There’s Absolutely No Problem With The Magic Cards I Made! - Chapter 92: Dekan Decides to Recruit Him

First-Generation God King Tang San, with a trace of divine consciousness, roamed the universe, searching for the world where his wife had reincarnated. Guided by that divine consciousness, he arrived at a place called Demon Monster Land, only to find that it was a world where humans were as lowly as livestock…

“Mr. Lei, rumor has it that you have a crush on me?”

With a cold icy face, the man ignored her question and continued reading his documents. He later decided to explain himself, “I swear to God I want nothing to do with you! The b*stard who spread the rumor is a dog!”

Snap! Suddenly, a pencil snapped in his hands while their eyes meet. The surrounding seemed to have frozen.

A few moments passed…

“Grrr woof!” Lei Xiao barked…

A soul named Wu Ling Feng transferred into a male magician character in DNF, that very moment Devil King’s journey officially began…

Enemies magic needs to be chanted, his doesn’t require such, it’s instantaneous magic. His second skill actually allows him to summon permanent dolls, whining Loli dolls, royal sister dolls, whatever he wants…

Loli girl : Onii-chan, don’t do that, it will be painful, ar…

- Description from Novelupdates

war, blood, and betrayal carved him into something else. A legend. A killer. A mercenary whose name struck fear into both criminals and so-called heroes alike.But now, the world had changed. Lines blurred between right and wrong, between justice and vengeance. Should he step into the light, wear the mask of a hero, and fight for a cause greater than himself? Or should he embrace the darkness that had always been his home, a place where morality was just another illusion?“Don’t box me in with your shallow ideas of good and evil,” he muttered, his voice calm but edged with danger. “I do what I want, when I want.”The air was thick with tension as he moved like a shadow through the dimly lit room. The writer had no time to react—one moment, he was scribbling nonsense about legends and myths; the next, a cold barrel pressed against the back of his head.The figure smirked beneath his mask, eyes gleaming with something between amusement and menace.“You wanna write fiction?” he whispered. “Then let me show you how real legends are made.”A single gunshot shattered the silence.As the writer’s body slumped over the desk, the man holstered his weapon, stepping into the faint glow of a flickering neon light.“It’s that simple,” he said, his voice unwavering. “I’m Deathstroke.”