MTL - Bringing The Farm To Live In Another World - v10 Chapter 156 agree

Pre-Reading Note:Please be advised that some chapters in this book may contain a higher word count. However, this does not compromise the reading experience; the story remains captivating and enjoyable throughout. Dive in and enjoy the journey!Qingmei, “My husband is proficient in medicine and is a compassionate healer. He is the most famous physician in Yuzhou City!”An Jing, “My wife is gentle and virtuous, a great cook, and a beautiful woman…”Beneath the moonlight,two swords clashed with each other as two figures exchanged blows.Qingmei asked, “Husband, aren’t you a doctor?”An Jing questioned, “Madam, aren’t you a graceful lady from a noble family?”

Lin Mu rescued a Samoyed.

Capable of eating, smiling, has a high IQ. Picks up anything you teach him quickly, a good helper around the house.

The only thing was that he doesn’t bark nor wag his tail.

Lin Mu took a ham sausage and coaxed for the thousandth time, “wag your tail, and this ham sausage is yours to eat.”

The Samoyed raised his eyes impatiently, and with a single shake of his tail, shook out nine.

Lin Mu: …… F*ck.

Afterwards, the fox that did not wish to reveal his name, Mr. Yan Xuanjing, said in an interview: “Now I regret, I deeply regret. At that time, I shouldn’t have pretended to be a dog to take advantage of him, shouldn’t have touched him, rubbed against him, eaten his food and slept in his bed. Now I have a home that I can’t return to and a wife I can’t sleep with, I regret, deeply regret.”

A learned and easy-going professional grudge-bearing Shou x A certain nine-tailed fox who refuses to say his name and was forced to go to the mortal realm without money Gong

- Description from Novelupdates

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.”