My Multiple Identities Revealed After Marrying the Bigshot - Chapter 42 - If I tell a lie may lightning strike me

What would you do if your planet ceased to exist after a nap?

A naturally timid engineering student found himself transported to France before the grand revolution, only to become the older brother of the future Emperor Napoleon for some inexplicable reason. Now, he faced a crucial decision: would he seize this opportunity to create his own remarkable destiny or merely cling to this lifeline and drift along?

****EXTREMELY SMUTTY**CAUTION: CONTAINS ELEMENT OF TABOOA sudden heart-throb, a shattered climax—and 22-year-old shut-in Edward Hunt dies mid-masturbation, and transmigrated as the declining barons family's heir.From Lucien's birth he was left with childhood of starvation, his mother’s untimely death, and a desperate political situation which challenge his claim as the head of House Argrave and the baron's title.Now Possessing his body Edward was left with to deal with such mess.No sooner has Edward processed this cruel rebirth, an unfamiliar sound echo in his head:“WELCOME TO THE MILF EMPEROR SYSTEM.”Connecting....SuccessInitializing.......Success“FUCK THE MILFS AND GET STRONGER, CONQUER THE MILFS, CONQUER THE WORLD.From an Baron without wealth, failed to save its people, to the conquering the world just by fucking milfs.Read the novel to find out how he do it.MILF SYSTEM - TASK POINTS CHARTHandjob - 5 PointsBlowjob - 10 PointsSex - 50 PointsCreampie - 75 PointsThreesome - 100 PointsFoursome - 200 pointsSpank - 15 PointsAnal - 150 PointsOrgy - 500 pointsBDSM - 700 pointsNTR other people - 1000 points.A little slow-burn novel.

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.”