Weapon seller in the world of magic - Chapter 563: Marbas, the demon healer

Yang Yang starved to death once, so after rebirth, he had only one wish: food and clothing.

However, in the blink of an eye, Yang Yang heard his uncle say that he had to cut open his stomach to take out the eggs.

Yang Yang: … I advise you to be kind.

In order to protect himself, Yang Yang found out the identity of the father from the birth center, and he embarked on a road of no return.

Yang Yang: Duke, your family is in my hand.

A young unmarried duke: ? ? ?

- Description from Novelupdates

This is a story about exploring technology in a wizarding world.Probability, electromagnetic induction, nuclear physics and theory of relativity—all of this can be mastered through scientific exploration and learning.Richard had always thought so… until he transmigrates to a world similar to the Middle Ages and becomes a prince. In this world of wizard and magic, he embarks on a journey to explain magic with science. One day, a dragon takes him away.“This is not in line with aerodynamics? It does not satisfy the Kutta condition, Circulation Theory of Lift and Bernoulli's principle either? How can it fly? Is there a special power source in its body?” Richard could not help saying as he glances down at the huge dragon he was riding on. “Well, I need to research this.”“By the way, you said you kidnapped me to find a playmate for your daughter. That doesn't sound like a good reason, right?”“Roar!” the dragon hollers furiously and waves its wings, soaring into the sky.Will Richard be able to continue on his journey of exploration and unravel the mystery of the wizarding world?

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.”