Black Tech Internet Cafe System - Chapter 844: Minor God from an Alternate World, You Did You Best!

She is the slow-witted idiot of the Prime Minister’s Residence. Everyone bullies her. He is the most respected and unfeeling Prince, with frightening ability and absolute envy! Together, they are conferred an imperial edict of marriage.

She acts stupid and tries to decline in every way possible while he despotically escorts her into the wedding…… everyone ridicules the match, but no one knows that the “idiot” has transformed from a loser into a talent.

After the marriage, when they encounter the Empress Dowager examining the room, they act in concert with each other and pretend to be two mandarin ducks deeply in love. Afterwards, she laughs, “The performance has ended. Your highness, please return.”

He laughs softly, “Since you’ve got onto this Prince’s bed, don’t even think of getting off.”

- Description from Novelupdates

Follow Tristan Hale on his journey to become the G.O.A.T. in football. After a life-changing car accident, Tristan is transported back to his youth, where he seizes a second chance at greatness.

The entire globe has transmigrated overnight!

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.”