I’m Not Going to Be Bullied By a Girl - Chapter 921: The Correct Way To Use Red Wine

Want to get super vision? Then let’s get some eagle blood.

Want to get super power? Blood of the Bear works great.

Are you going to surpass humans? Exactly, I have vampire blood here.

Do you want to be the ultimate creature? Very well, I have a drop of the blood of the ancient gods here.

…………

Become the headless mayor of the ancient, chaotic city of Arkham, where the gods breed.

Starting from blood therapy, Ross built an extraordinary shelter, a forbidden library, and a museum of the ancient gods.

Ross: We Arkham are full of talented people, and our folk customs are simple, hey! Don’t run! Haven’t visited Arkham Sanatorium yet!

Farming flow, invincible flow, behind-the-scenes black hand flow, Cthulhu.

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“One more round of ten rounds! This time I must draw Professor McGonagall’s Animagus!”

Draw a card!

Cash out!

Who is it?

“I am the great astrologer – Trelawney!”

【Divination +1】

Excited tears welled up from the corners of Tom’s eyes.

Facing the magnificent magical world, Tom deeply felt that the power of Muggles was limited, so he decided to shout out that sentence:

I’m not a muggle anymore!

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【Children, remember this. Among the fortunes of heaven and earth, three parts are the essence of literature, seven parts are martial, and one part determines the fate of the realm!】【...10...3+7+1... Hey? Ancestor, something seems off?】

Let someone else go to war, you, lucky Austria, go get married! What the god of war can give you, the god of love can also give you.

The smoke of the Napoleonic Wars has dissipated, and the Vienna system that once brought peace to Europe is riddled with holes. Beneath the seemingly peaceful appearance, there is a vortex of the times with undercurrents, the tranquility before the storm.

The air is filled with the steaming mist of sweat, and the choking black smoke makes it hard to breathe. On the elegant dining table, a group of soldiers and fat men in suits are pushing each other, feasting on the feast called the world, hanging on the wall Van Gogh’s self-portrait with waltz in his ears.

Suddenly the music turned into a march, and the picture also turned to the battlefield. Soldiers marched in a neat line, walking towards the machine gun barbed wire.

A shell fell on the ground, and after the smoke passed, countless cavalry rushed to the artillery position.

Accompanied by a loud noise, a wooden plane flew close to the ground, then pulled up rapidly, broke through the clouds, and shone brightly.

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