I’m Going to Destroy This Country Manhwa Review: Baby Saint, Skeleton King, and Petty Revenge

Synopsis

So basically, it’s about a guy named Isaac who used to be the infamous Skeleton King—public enemy of gods and men—who gets reborn as a human baby in a powerful noble house at the heart of a Holy Empire. He remembers everything, including the divine betrayal that ended his last life, and decides: fine then, I’ll burn this country down…from the inside. The twist? He’s a literal infant saint wrapped in silk and praise, quietly sharpening knives under his swaddle.

My Reading Experience

I went in expecting edgy carnage and came out wheezing from laughter—and then, just when I got comfortable, the story jabbed me with a shard of genuine pathos. That’s the rhythm here: slapstick, scheming, sudden menace, repeat.

I binged the opening stretch in one go because the first chapters are a parade of “did they really just do that?” gags. There’s an early sequence where the baby saint gets doted on for… bodily functions. It’s played absurdly straight, yet you can hear Isaac’s internal monologue grinding its teeth: a warlord trapped in a nursery. That dissonance hooked me. It’s comedy, yes, but comedy with a mean streak that promises payoff.

Once the noble family politics kick in, I started reading more slowly to catch the little tells—the sideways glances between uncles, the reverent but calculating priests, the way gifts and tributes function like cold-war signals. Whenever the Holy Empire flexes its wealth, Isaac’s eyes flash with equal parts greed and contempt, and the panels suddenly feel ten degrees colder.

Did I nearly drop it? Twice. The series occasionally leans hard into one-joke side characters and runs the gag longer than needed. But then a viciously clever set piece lands—an “innocent” ritual that doubles as corporate espionage, or a tantrum that masks a power test—and I’m right back in. The net effect is addictive: low-stakes giggles rolling downhill into “oh no” realizations.

Characters I Loved (and the Ones Who Made Me Scream)

Isaac Eshua (our baby saint, ex–Skeleton King) The star of the show and a glorious gremlin. Isaac is petty, practical, and pathologically survival-driven. He weaponizes cuteness like a spy uses a cover identity; the rattle is a prop, the smile a mask. What I appreciate most is how the story makes his pettiness feel strategic. He doesn’t blow up bridges; he under-prices the toll, then buys the river.
The Eshua Family The clan is a web of old money and older grudges. Uncles who pat the infant heir one minute and measure his coffin the next. A grandmother whose lullabies sound suspiciously like stock forecasts. The family’s love language is “asset.” Watching Isaac insinuate himself into their rituals—accepting gifts, blessing banners, “accidentally” overhearing—was deliciously tense.
The Holy Empire’s Golden Boys and Gilded Wolves From sanctified prodigies to saint-candidate rivals, the church’s youth roster is a spectrum: some sincere and terrifyingly talented, others arrogant with a smile. The showier they are, the more Isaac stores their names for later. I found the Pope’s circle especially fun: every kind gesture hums with implied leverage.

Characters that frayed my patience: a handful of attendants and minor nobles who exist for one gag—drooling over the baby, panicking about diapers, speaking in the same comic cadence. On their own they’re amusing; in clusters they can flatten a scene’s tone. Thankfully the story usually cuts away before the bit exhausts itself.

The Art Vibes

Palette and lighting Soft, luminous colors sell the “holy” aesthetic—gold filigree, blues and whites that look painted with incense smoke. When Isaac’s thoughts turn predatory, the color grading often shifts: shadows stretch, whites cool to silver, gold burns hotter. It’s a nice visual barometer for his mood.
Character design Isaac’s baby form is weaponized adorable—plush cheeks, oversized eyes—but the artist never lets you forget there’s a monster in there. His smiles sit a millimeter too high; his gaze lingers a beat too long. Priest regalia and noble costumes have an ornate, almost textile-like detail that frames the political theater beautifully.
Action When the panels snap to violence, they go crisp: clean angles, readable motion, decisive impact. Magic sequences swirl with ribboned light, while “holy arts” glow in geometric halos. It’s not a gorefest, but when the story wants a moment to hit, it lands with surgical clarity.
Comedy staging Chibi drop-ins, deadpan reaction boxes, and impeccable timing. The visual gags rarely feel lazy; they’re paced like sitcom beats tucked inside a palace drama.

Worldbuilding I Didn’t Expect to Care About (But Did)

This manhwa treats wealth, ritual, and reputation like hard magic systems. Tribute caravans are siege engines. Blessings are press releases. Feast seating charts are battle maps. The Holy Empire’s bureaucracy feels alive; signatures and seals matter. Isaac’s genius is exploiting those systems with a criminal’s brain: he turns sacraments into smuggling routes, matchmaking into mergers, and saintly miracles into market shocks.

Underneath the jokes runs a steady critique of institutional faith as brand management. Miracles are monetized. Sainthood is a KPI. It’s a spicy choice, and the story mostly balances irreverence with thoughtful world logic. When it swerves into solemnity—trauma, memory, the cost of survival—it earns the hush.

Pacing, Tropes, and Tone Whiplash

Pacing Early arcs move briskly, powered by punchline engines and short cons. Mid-arc politics slow the tempo; the story starts laying pipes for longer payoffs. If you thrive on immediate catharsis, those chapters may feel like idling. My advice: trust the runway. The payoffs are fun precisely because the setup felt frivolous.
Tropes embraced Reincarnated genius baby? Check. Noble house snakes? Check. Church prodigy rival? Check. But the series plays them with a wink and—crucially—lets Isaac be mean. Not edgy-cool, but small, vindictive, practical. That choice keeps familiar beats tasting new.
Tone Yes, the comedy is loud. Think “soft watercolor vibes of a nursery scene” followed by “a smile that suggests arson.” If you dislike tonal pivots, this might be rough. Personally, I like that the story dares to be stupid-funny one panel and ice-cold the next; it matches Isaac’s double life.

Memorable Moments (mild early spoilers)

The “praise him, he pooped” scene that secretly introduces a power threshold. It’s puerile, it’s brazen, and it telegraphs that Isaac is optimizing even the most embarrassing metrics of saintly growth. I laughed, then cackled at the implications.
The tribute avalanche at the estate. Mountains of silk, rare ores, and chests of gold—an apology wrapped as dominance. Everyone beams; Isaac’s eyes narrow. The whole scene plays like a diplomatic arm wrestle, and the art sells the weight of it.

My Final Take

Would I recommend it? Absolutely—if you have a tolerance for irreverent humor braided into political fantasy and a protagonist whose moral compass points to “win.” The comedic exterior hides a sharp, systems-level revenge story. You’ll come for the baby bits and stay for the boardroom warfare disguised as blessings.

What might hold you back: - Side characters can skew one-note, especially in gag clusters. - The tonal oscillation (sacred to slapstick) won’t be for everyone. - The plot occasionally hand-waves logistics with “because Isaac,” which can feel like sly authorial winks or shortcuts, depending on your mood.

For me, the formula works. The art is consistently pleasing, the worldbuilding is sneakily robust, and Isaac is a compelling disaster: petty, patient, and somehow relatable in his grim little mission to turn sanctity into leverage.

If you liked The Greatest Estate Developer for its shamelessly practical MC or enjoy antihero schemers who treat institutions like puzzles, slot this high on your list. If baby protagonists make you roll your eyes, sample a few chapters before committing.

FAQs

Is the manhwa ongoing?

Yes. As of August 2025, the adaptation is ongoing with regular releases. Schedules can wobble; expect occasional gaps.

Is there a source novel?

Yes. The manhwa adapts a Korean web novel widely known under the same English title, associated with the author SAN.G (산지직송). The adaptation sticks close to the spirit—irreverent, scheming, petty—while smoothing some transitions for visual storytelling.

How dark does it get?

Darker than the baby antics suggest. You’ll encounter political violence, sacrilege played for satire, and flashes of the protagonist’s monstrous past. While not graphic to the point of horror, it’s squarely older-teen-plus.

Is there romance?

Not in the foreground. Flirtations and dynastic matchmaking appear because the setting demands them, but the engine is revenge and power maneuvering. The emotional throughline is Isaac versus institutions, not Isaac plus a love interest.

What’s the art/style like?

Bright, holy palette with golds and blues; clean, readable action; ornate costume work; and expressive comedy staging. The shift from soft, saintly lighting to cold shadow during plotting is especially effective.

Does the comedy undercut the stakes?

Sometimes. A few scenes reach for a gag when a beat of silence would hit harder. That said, the best arcs use humor as misdirection, letting the punchline hide a knife.

Who will love this?

Readers who enjoy villain-adjacent MCs with ruthless pragmatism
Fans of political scheming, economic warfare, and institutional satire
Anyone who appreciates tonal mashups: nursery chibi one page, Machiavelli the next

Who might bounce off it?

Readers allergic to infant/reincarnated-child setups
Folks who prefer grounded, solemn fantasy without meta humor
Readers frustrated by one-note side characters or occasional plot conveniences

Final score?

An 8/10 on my personal scale. It made me laugh out loud, surprised me with sly worldbuilding, and delivered a protagonist whose petty brilliance feels fresh. If the supporting cast deepens over time, this could climb even higher.