MTL - The Demon King Always Thinks I’m Secretly In Love With Him - Chapter 58

An intoxicated An Xiaoyu boldly places her hands on her hips: “Hey, handsome, this girl is here to rob you. This road is opened by me, this tree is planted by me, if you want to cross, leave some toll money!”The man approaches aggressively, trapping An Xiaoyu against the wall with no escape.He whispers in her ear: “Money, I have none. How about offering yourself instead?”An Xiaoyu is completely dumbfounded.She just accidentally robbed the wrong person, and now he's haunting her?What? He wants her to take responsibility?“Handsome, a forced melon is not sweet!”“No worries, I like bitter melons!”“You, shameless!”“Can't have a wife with too much pride!”“……”An Xiaoyu: “God, please let me go!”Ahem, 1v1 sweet romance + love over time, guaranteed to make you laugh until you have abs!

Blue Learley, a seventeen-year-old girl, lived in a small town with her parents and two brothers. Everything was going as usual until that fateful night when her life changed forever. Demetrius Easton, the merciless werewolf king, got his eyes on her and wanted her as his bride. When her own parents sold her to him, she had no way of escaping him and no one to turn to for help.***“I don’t want to stay away for too long. Sometimes I fear the bird might fly away.”“The bird doesn’t have a home. The outside world is dangerous for it. And besides, the bird has already found its freedom inside,” I said. “The bird won’t fly away.”‘So you don’t have to cut its wings since it did not grow them in the first place. It’s okay. The bird likes the cage anyway.’

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.”

A world full of magic and wonders, where dragons stand for metals, sprites stand for farming, knights cultivate qi, mysterious wizards dwell. In this world, a man who had transmigrated into the body of a baron, follows the prompts of mysterious symbols to change his destiny.

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