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Living In Another World With A Farm

If he wanted to boss around, he could do whatever he wanted. I would continue to farm, but if he tried to attack me, then he would not live to see another day. Zhao Hai was a shut-in until he was transmigrated to another world with a farm and taken over the body of a fallen noble. The land that the noble had was one that could not grow anything. He also had a fiance who was the heir to a principality. To make matters even worse, he was talentless in martial arts and magic where he couldn’t even learn both. “So what if I can’t do magic? I have my farm. Let’s see you try and attack me! I’ll let my bugs out to devour all of your military rations! I’ll put pesticides in your water source and grow weeds on your land! Let’s see you try and attack me after that!” “What? You’ll hire assassins to kill me? Try and do that when I’m hiding inside my farmhouse. Once that is over, I’ll rid your country of all your food sources! Your citizens will come after you instead of you coming after me!” The shut-in had a slightly foul personality. This is a story of how he, and his farm, became a nightmare to the people of a world of swords and magic.

Ming Yu · Oriental
Classificações insuficientes
7218 Chs

The Mastiff clan (1)

10,000 word update, support!

Compared to Zhao Hai's group, Weyers 'head hurt even more. They were facing a dangerous situation. This wasn't something they wanted to see, but they had no choice.

Weyers sat in his tent with a large glass of milk wine in front of him. In fact, he had already drunk five glasses, and this was his sixth.

Mendus wasn't doing any better. In truth, he had already begun to drink his eighth glass of wine. Only Yale was still rather normal, but he too sat there, not saying a single word.

The news that Bogu had brought back was truly too shocking. They had never thought that the old camp that the herculean divine ox clan had lived in for generations would be lost. How could they accept this?

Fortunately, Weyers was a man of moderation. He didn't drink too much. After Downing the sixth cup of milk wine, he stopped, but he still didn't speak. No one had spoken since the three of them entered the tent.