God Of Crafting - Chapter 184: Trouble at the gate (1)

Oops! The foolish real young master had run away!!!The title of the book…Micah had everything anyone could possibly envy, a gentle mother, a supportive father, and two doting older sisters. His family business dominated the capital with its high-technology products, and he was raised with a silver spoon from birth. Life was perfect. Until one day everything crumbled when a young man appeared, claiming to be the real young master.The classic case of swapped at birth…Panicked and heartbroken, Micah, the fake heir, fought desperately to hold onto his family and fortune.From Bad-mouthing and spreading rumours to initiating misplaced hatred toward the real young master, he plotted financial pitfalls and implicated his family business in progress. Not to mention his backstabbing and selling the classified information to a rival company.“What the actual f..?”Micah stared at the book, seething with anger.He was practically a villain out of a melodrama.He would never be like that! Which vengeful ghost had written this book?!“Where is my knife?!”He needed to show this so-called author the true meaning of vengeance!Even if he couldn’t get his hands on him, at the very least, he could undermine all the nonsense that was written in his book! Whether would he really be this mentally handicapped as described in the book remained a mystery, but please could someone explain the rest of the book to him?Those madmen!Those Degenerated Gongs!How could they torment the cheerful sunny Shou and twist him into an obedient meek little puppet just to satisfy their sick desires?!“I, Micah Ramsy, swear to protect my new brother from those psychos and hungry wolves!”Thus begins the journey of the fake heir, hell-bent on keeping those scums away from his sweet brother.

Emily Molson, PA to Derek Haven, CEO of Haven Group has nightmares every night, that prevent her from getting a good night's rest.Derek Haven, on the other hand is lucky to get any sleep at all. The two of them work close together but have no idea that they have the same problem.Then one night they end up in bed together and a miracle happens.

Morn transmigrates into a fantasy world where demons run rampant, vampire families stand tall in the darkness all year round, werewolves that are preparing for something in the darkness, and angels who occasionally descend into the human world.

As a cardinal of the Orthodox Church, Morn had been bound to the nine-to-five system after he arrives in this world. As long as he’s at work, he can obtain a large number of rewards by checking in.

Therefore, having been in the ten years of the Orthodox Church, he becomes an invincible existence. Although he is the strongest in the Orthodox Church, he has one flaw—he never works overtime.

Your Holiness, Cardinal Morn personally went to the Dark Forest and killed all the dark cat demons.

Your Holiness, Cardinal Morn just returned from the Bloodthirsty Demon Abyss with the head of the Bloodthirsty Demonic Dragon

Your Holiness, this is bad! Dracula I brought his army of vampires here to take revenge.

Pope: “Quick, get Cardinal Morn.

B-but Cardinal Morn has knocked off. He has a rule that he works 9-to-5. He never works overtime

Pope: We’re doomed. Our Orthodox Church’s 300-year history shall end here.If you find any errors ( broken links, non-standard content, etc.. ), Please let us know so we can fix it as soon as possible. Thanks!

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.”