Stop Messing Around, Mr Bo! - Chapter 2100

The female protagonist of this book is a zombie (probably!) The male protagonist of this book is an air (maybe, but you can’t see it?) The system of this book is a bastard (like to open a mouth too much?) Anyway, this is a story about zombie with a memory, going back to the past, but accidentally turning this book into a story of a savior! (Huh? What? There is a killer? No, believe the author, she really did not kill, really! (No wonder!)

The heroine said: The title of the book and so on are all fake!

- Description from Novelupdates

{NO SMUT}Noa lost his virginity to the Doom God and transmigrated into a game he had played for over ten years.Instead of being the protagonist, he found himself as an extra—a mere background character, fated to die before even making an appearance.To make matters worse, the game’s main character was also an extra who had read the novel about this world.However, Noa's power came after having sex with the Doom God, her blessing granting him 1,000 lives.And armed with 10 years of gaming experience, he was set on changing his future.Though Noa had 1,000 lives to spare, dying over and over had a price…The system was cruel, issuing his existence to every corner of Velrox and slapping a sweet bounty on his head.Suddenly, everyone in the world became interested in his identity, wanting him dead.With enemies on every side, Noa not only intended to screw up the plot, but he also had to survive the impending perils, as the world was set to be destroyed in five years…

⚠️ CONTENT WARNING ⚠️This story is targeted towards young adults and it contains Mature Content such as:- Vulgar Language- Graphic Depictions of Violence and Gore- Graphic Depictions of Sex and Nudity- Potentially Offensive Religious ThemesYou must be at least 18 years or older in order to read this story, and by reading it, you do so at your own risk. Reader's discretion is advised.

The protracted ’witch hunting’ had faded into silence with the end of the Seven Years’ War, and the mysteries of the East Coast had begun to conceal themselves, yet gunpowder was on a rapid rise. Mo Qishang, who should have been utterly confounded, stood at the crossroads of destiny in the name of Arthur. He stared in astonishment at the charging knights, the wizards atop the high towers, and the bizarre wilderness. He felt the sharpness of the longsword and the recoil of the firearm, both clear and unfamiliar. At last, he excitedly shook his robe and, with a smile on his face, said— “Do not believe what I say, for to believe is to exist!”