MTL - Alluring His Wife: The Evil King’s Fifth Consort - Chapter 971 Assassination

“Reincarnated into the World of Magic as a demon, the last thing Davis expected was to grow up right amidst the arms of angels. Ever since the group of philanthropic angels took pity on his miserable birth and adopted him, Davis has been forced to keep his evil identity a secret while he signed in to the system.

“”Ding! The Host has signed in at Angel’s Pond, ‘The Saint’s Halo’ is rewarded!””

“”Ding! Devil’s blood activated. Sign in error. ‘The Devil’s Curse’ is additionally rewarded!””

“”Ding! The Host has signed in at God’s Throne, ‘Gold’s Holy Axe’ is rewarded!””

“”Ding! Devil’s blood activated. Sign in error. ‘The Devil’s Manifistation’ is additionally rewarded!””

After a thousand years of quietly signing into places in the City of Angels and being rewarded with double the rewards, Davis’s true identity finally came to light! Now as a true Devil, Davis had both the world of angels and demons surrendering at his feet!”

[R18 novel with a lot of sexual content]Artem never expected to take on the role of a villain, let alone transmigrate between harem novels. Bound by a system, his task is clear: steal the heroines from all the protagonists’. From Chinese Cultivation and Korean Gate to Japanese Isekai Fantasy, VRMMORPG, and beyond—no heroine is off-limits, and no protagonist is safe!

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.”