Reborn on Wedding Night: Flirting the Cold Bigshot into Blushes - Chapter 302: Julius Shaw, It Hurts So Much

[Warning: Mature Content R-18]Lots of Melons. Only NTR Netori - No Netorare.Alex was nineteen, a college student, and apparently the universe decided to curse him… with a system.[MILF Paradise System Activated][Notification: Nearby MILF detected][Alert: Desire levels rising][Ding! System online]Every MILF in his neighborhood was hopelessly drawn to him. Every glance, every brush of skin, every accidental touch made them want… more. And trust him, more was exactly what they were going to get.He got caught hooking up with his neighbor’s wife because of it. His parents kicked him out. And now? He was moving into the ultimate hotspot for horny, desperate MILFs: the infamous MILF Apartments.With the system buzzing in his head constantly, every MILF he met was a temptation he couldn’t ignore. Every encounter was a test of control… though control was the last thing he had. From the blonde bombshell next door in her soft maxi dress, to the yoga instructor with a killer ass… he was living in a paradise of desire. The system wasn’t subtle. It was relentless. It was teasing him. It was daring him. And it was making sure he was constantly… busy.Welcome to the MILF Paradise System.

“Master Ouyang, please smith a divine weapon for me!”

“Master Ouyang, you’re the only person who can forge a weapon with seven attributes. Please make my dream come true!”

“Master Ouyang, could you…”

“Ouyang my *ss! My surname is Ou!”

Ou Yangming was an orphan who was adopted by a reputable old blacksmith from a military camp. After working as a helper under the old man for years, he was given a chance to acquire the Military Fire—a trait allowing him to smith and restore equipment with the Military Fire produced from his hands.

Gifted with mental power, Ou Yangming controlled his Military Fire unusually well and was also strangely talented in martial arts. On top of it, he could also attach Unique Attributes into weapons with a hundred-percent success rate. Those who belittled Ou Yangming because of his background and age eventually honored him so much that they would do anything to get their hands on his equipment.

Little did Ou Yangming know that as he slowly unfolded the mysteries of the Military Fire and his mental power, he was advancing step by step on the immortal path to Heaven!

When I woke up, I found myself inside a spaceship.

I guess you guys think I’m talking nonsense here, but I also have absolutely no clue about what exactly happened to me.

I was really close to completely losing it, but fortunately, I managed to notice that this place was really similar to the world featured in a game I was playing recently.

Am I dreaming? Nope, it’s no dream. Maybe I actually got sent to a different world or something?

But didn’t those things usually involve getting sent to a magical world with elves, dwarves, dragons and whatnot?

In any case, I don’t know what caused this, but I guess I’ll just have to suck it up and live properly in this world from now on.

It’ll be okay. I got my trusty spaceship so I can probably make some money. It’ll work out! It has to!

This is the story of a man abruptly thrown into space along with his private spaceship. He runs around with it and saves damsels in distress along the way, flirts with said damsels, earns money as a merc-for-hire and uses his gaming knowledge to work his way into living freely and easily.

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.”