MTL - All Things Wrong (Retrograde Gaming) - Chapter 3169 Windfall

Mimizuku, a small girl with chains on her wrists and ankles and the numbers “332” branded onto her forehead, wanders into the Forest of Night seeking to be eaten by a monster. However, when the ruler of the monsters, the mysterious and beautiful “King of Night,” refuses to eat her, she tries to formulate a way to convince him otherwise.

[Fiction from the 1980s] Su Wen read a popular novel about son-in-law in the 1980s. The hero is a tough guy with a sense of security, but at the same time he is a bit dark-bellied and sullen.

It was the style she liked, so with a wave of her hand, she rewarded one million reading coins—and then she became the hero’s scumbag ex-wife.

In the book, the original body, as the head of the family who recruits a family at home, does not want to stand up for the family, but is a love brain. Don’t want to have huge golden thighs, but was instigated by the little white flower heroine, and fell in love with the scumbag from the next village.

After Su Wen came through, she hugged the male lead’s golden thigh tightly, and worked hard to make money and become rich. As a result, the younger sisters were too competitive, crying and shouting to recruit a son-in-law at home like the older sister, and they gave birth to a baby with the surname Su.

So, Su Wen started the rhythm of choosing her son-in-law every day, all of them are handsome and talented. One body is better than the other, and the family background is better than the other. It’s so hard to choose!

Someone who was left out aggressively blocked her behind the door: “Am I handsome? Is my figure good? Is my family strong?”

Su Wen: “…But they are my sister-in-law.”

“My whole body is yours. I will give you the passbook, and I will give you my life.”

The next day, Su Wen woke up and looked at more than twenty passbooks, lost in thought…

Eshwar is the name of the author who transmigrated into his own novel after his death. Eshwar’s death was caused by his own magic which he had yet to control. Why? because I didn't think I would seriously die!!!!

Anyway.... my novel's protagonist is a selfish person. why you ask? because I wrote him and I wanted him to be like me. Muhahahaha, ha.

I reincarnated into my novel!

and that to as a villain who dies in the first half, will I stand still and die?

Of course not, I may have reincarnated as a villain but its not like I will live like he did.

I'll live my life as I want! and kill all the other villains.

Why? because I love the world I created, hahaha, ha.... (real reason: I love to fight.), who else will get the chance to look at the world they have created?

System I created is messed up for some reason and is doing everything on its own!!???

we'll see how it turns out with everything messed up, well(sigh...)

Oh, but because i have reincarnated as a villain, I got a new problem and that is,

I'm handsome (sparkles), I have to say, handsome people have their own problems.

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.”