The Famous Millionaire - Chapter 39

What is the most important thing about rebirth before the apocalypse? Grain storage? No, it’s trying to find the most important person in the past life! Reject the so-called relatives who have evil intentions!

The land of Aleisterre is a world of might and magic, sword and sorcery, where wandering knights and mysterious gods shape the fate of kingdoms. Wang Yu, a resourceful and unorthodox protagonist, finds himself inexplicably pulled into Aleisterre, a place steeped in ancient powers and political intrigue. With little understanding of the magic and faith that underpin this realm, Wang Yu is thrust into conflicts he never sought out—yet must navigate carefully if he’s to survive.Official blurb:Dragons' wings cut through the sky. Knights charge forward, magic tearing apart everything before them. Wizardry distorts the fabric of reality itself. The steam revolution stirs in one kingdom; the endless seas echo with ancient, distorted calls. Gods rule from high above, and the dark abyss leads deep underground.Wang Yu, from Earth, arrives in this unfamiliar world of fantasy.Straightforward and practical to the extreme, Wang Yu hates politics, despises intrigue, and prefers to approach everything head-on. In his own way, he leaves his mark in this mad, chaotic world.“I don’t care to listen to or understand my enemy’s story.”“I'm the tank, and you're the carry. Together, we'll be invincible.”“A man’s got to have a sense of himself, more than anything else.”Armed with an iron hammer and unbreakable will, he smashes through every obstacle in his path.

Kang Min-hyuk, the loser of the checkpoint, gained a high-level magical civilization and everything changed.

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.”