Back to the 80s: Raising my Wolfy Boyfriend - Chapter 102: Someone Bullied Her Child

Cosplayer Liu Mang accidentally crosses through time and arrived at the Eastern Han Dynasty wearing Aries Gold Cloth. (Saint Seiya!) He arrived on top of the walls of XiaPi right when it was about to fall to Cao Cao.

“Don’t kill me bro; I’m not working for boss Cao!”

“Hey! You’re slashing the wrong person! Boss Lu’s underlings are there! Not me!”

He accidentally saved Lu Bu who was tied up by Song Xian. He accidentally became the son in law of Lu Bu. He accidentally changed the history of the Three Kingdoms period.

When aluminum casted Gold Cloths are worn by generals like Zhang Liao and Gao Shun during the Eastern Han Dynasty, glistering on their bodies… When the soldiers in the camps are sporting mechanical crossbows… When crossbreeding of rice plants appeared on Lu Bu’s territory…

Liu Mang knows that a world belonging to Lu is coming.

- Description from Novelupdates

Welcome to Freia. A continent where evil magi ruled. Until firearms came, that is. Now the people live free of those demons…

More, however, must lurk beneath the surface.

Claude, a transmigrator from another world, finds himself in the midst of this changing world, attending ‘middle school’. Or, as he calls it, ‘boot camp’. His destiny was to graduate and join the military, but the future is seldom so simple.

His life, and the world, is set on the path of upheaval and chaos the day he finds a cookbook.

A magical cookbook.

- Description from novelupdates

“If I do it all over again, give me excellent physical talent, and give me excellent skills, I will definitely be like those historical NBA superstars.”

Lian Dao originally thought that the above imagination would only appear in dreams, but he didn’t expect that such a “good thing” would suddenly happen to him one day.

- Description from novelbuddy

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.”