Dungeon Battle Royale ~ Since I became a Demon King, I will aim for World Domination - Chapter 137: Curry and Rice ②

Accompanied by all kinds of crisis and despair, was the arrival of mankind’s first significant superhero.

Transmigrated into a trash body of general's daughter as female lead? Peh! Too mainstream! Transmigrated to be a villainess? Common! What about transmigrating and ending up as cannon fodder? Have read it before!

# consort # food # therapeutic #hishighness # dramaqueen

Yu Niaoniao transmigrated into ancient times and became the eldest daughter of an official’s family. Her father didn’t love her mother? No matter. As long as he gave them basic necessities! Her younger siblings didn’t take her seriously? That’s fine. Brats who don’t listen will be beaten a couple of times. There was no stir-fry in ancient times that was edible? Don’t panic, she’s a chef.

Suddenly, a shocking rumor burst out in the capital. It was said that the eldest daughter of the Yu family was privately involved with Duke Lang, and was even pregnant with his child! All of that was merely rumors! However, before she could come forward and clarify it, an imperial decree came, bestowing marriage upon her and Duke Lang!

Yu Niaoniao felt like she had been struck by lightning, and her whole body was numb. Who was Duke Lang? He was like a living King of Hell who held great power and killed people without feeling! He was so fierce that children would stop crying in his presence, and the faces of all the officials would pale when his name was brought up. Faced with the dangerous man walking towards her slowly,

Yu Niaoniao trembled in fear. “Sob, sob, sob… I was wrong! I’m not pregnant!” Only to hear Duke Lang say, “ That’s fine. It’s not too late to get pregnant now.” Yu Niaoniao was speechless!

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.”