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... in telling his wife, how powerful the talismans that were given to her by Song Yan were, he repeatedly asked his wife and daughter-in-law to bring those talismans along with them no matter what! While Yan Guo and Yan Niu told everyone including Song Dong Ming about the way Song Yan dealt with the parasitic demons that were inside the bodies of the four corpses and how she saved the three medical examiners that were corrupted by the parasitic demons.

Yan Guo also told how Song Yan dealt w ...

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There is no One Punch Man, no Conan’s nirvana when he arrives at the scene, no system, no golden finger, the only fun in life is to go fishing with Tian Kongkui, the little albino girl next door, and occasionally deliberately score zero in the test Ben Yukiko’s mother was angry.

Wrote “Walk in the White Night” famous in the world?

Sorry, too much homework, no interest, finish writing and go fishing.

How about singing “lemon” and breaking arms with Kimura Takuya, or taking part in “Love Letter” to take away the male lead role of Takashi Kashiwahara?

Please, don’t you sleep well for a while, and go fishing in the afternoon.

“School will be closed tomorrow, Tian Kongkui, remember to put on the most beautiful little white dress. I will also put on a tie and a white shirt. After meeting at three o’clock in the afternoon, I will leave on time.”

“?G? Are you going to participate in the JunonsuperBoy star draft?”

“Idiot, let’s go fishing together.”

……

“People are in Tokyo, don’t fall in love”, “From the countryside of Tokyo to a national idol”, “I’m a primary school student, that’s all”, “Madam, can you sit far away from me?” “It’s better to buy karaoke money Bait, so I sang a cappella on the side of the road”

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On an unknown day, when you walk down the stairs, you may accidentally walk into this —— arcade nightmare!

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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.”