Last King of Kings - Chapter 25: On last minute

Life Mission – a game that has become reality.

Only I know the end of this world.

One day our MC finds himself stuck in the world of his favorite webnovel. What does he do to survive? It is a world struck by catastrophe and danger all around.

His edge? He knows the plot of the story to end. Because he was the sole reader that stuck with it. Read his story to see how he survives!

Luo Xuange finally defeated the martial arts leader to dominate the rivers and lakes, and died of poisoning before he had time for thousands of years.

When he woke up, he had been reborn on the body of a little girl in another world. Not to mention one more marriage contract, the object is still a woman.

In order to help the little girl fulfill her last wish and make money to support her family, Master Luo decided to enter the entertainment industry and become the most dazzling star.

Question 1: Do you have any specialties?
Master Luo: I can fly over the eaves and walk the walls, knives, guns, swords, and halberds, and I can also play chess, calligraphy, painting, dancing, and singing. Are these my specialties?
reporter:……

Question 2: I heard that you and An Yinghou have been dating for more than a month, is this true?
Master Luo: False, we have been married for more than a year.
reporter:! ! !

Content tags: strong entertainment industry ancient wear today sweet text
Search keywords: Protagonist: Luo Xuange, An Ruoshui ┃ Supporting role: ┃ Others:

- Description from novelbuddy

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.”