MTL - The Beautiful Wife of the Whirlwind Marriage - Chapter 1449 Start quarreling

From a caste based high school, bottom-tier Naomi Masatsugu is caught up in a summon of his class to a different world. However, as soon as they arrived the king said, “This guy is unnecessary because he only has clumsy skills ” and it is concluded that he is to be forced to administer the orphanage, which no one wants to do. Unfortunately for the orphanage his skills were cheat skills that cause the girls to cling to him.

In order to “defend” the girls that depend on him, he must operate the orphanage while overcoming the powerful people, authorities, and former classmates that surround him.

Fang Heng was transmigrated to a parallel world and his soul was forced into the body of a man who had just committed suicide.Huh? What? Every human here was being forced to join a game? Those who refused would be killed?Wait? This suicide dude was a pro gamer?He had the highest S-rank talent sill, the Zombie Clone?Damn! The S-rank skill evolved! My zombie clones could auto hunt![Your zombie army has crafted Wooden Axe x720 when you were offline. You have received 1921 experience points for the Basic Crafting skill.][Your zombie army has chopped down 27,821 trees and gathered 128,973 pieces of wood while you were offline. You have received 2,171,921 experience points for the Basic Wood Chopping skill.]Just as the rest of the players were struggling to survive in the zombie apocalyptic game, Fang Heng's zombie clones were starting to clear every resource out of the forest.Hm... What an interesting game!

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.”

I can see ghosts. Even the ghosts inside games. But then…”Ah! Not there, over that way! My family heirloom is hidden there.” The ghosts in the game keep revealing hidden pieces to me.