This Game Is Too Real - Chapter 709: The Fertile Saline-Alkali Soil

At the beginning, he acquired a piece of land worth billions, but Su Ming used it to cultivate crops!Row after row of cucumbers, plant after plant of chili peppers, shoot after shoot of bamboo shoots… …Everyone couldn’t understand: “Having a billion-dollar land and using it for farming? Su Ming, what’s wrong with you?”Yet, Su Ming just smiled mysteriously.Do you really think, naively, that the cucumbers I grow are just ordinary cucumbers?The joy I find in farming is something you can never imagine!

Right after getting the first-class chef’s certificate and before that certificate had been in her hands long enough to warm up, she woke up. Not only did she age ten years, she also gained two children…

—

At this time, her new daughter, who had lost two of her front baby teeth and spoke with a lisp, pointed at the TV screen and called out, “Dad!”

On the screen, the Film Emperor Meng Yan was extremely handsome and charming. Towards the camera, his gaze was overflowing with gentle and tender feelings. He raised up the hand that was holding hands with captivatingly beautiful bride. She was wearing a diamond-beaded wedding dress. At the bottom of the TV screen, the headline news was displayed in large font – Meng Yan and the rising starlet’s wedding of the century.

T/N: The second part of the summary is misleading. This isn’t a novel where the transmigrated main character clings onto the film emperor’s thigh.

He doesn’t want to be wanted for bounty, or be a pirate, but if there’s no other choice, he can only become a pirate…..

Let the world turn upside down!

- 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.”