Blessed to be the Villain - Chapter 40: Arthur’s distress

Mira is determined to be a botanist—no matter how dangerous or violent it may become. Mira made two requests upon entering the multiverse: a botany class to further her research and to be dropped off in an isolated forest far from the violent god-rearing system BS going on. She was granted both—but not in the way she expected. The system abandoned her in a hellishly dangerous forest—where she earned a rare class that excelled at killing things.

“Even if Yama wants a person dead, Almighty Ye can bring them back to life!”The one in a century miracle doctor, Ye Qianli, fights the King of Hell, King Yama, and the Grim Reaper with a silver needle in one hand. She winsevery battle and never fails.In a transmigration, she becomes the princess of a dynasty. It was a pity that she's not doted on by her father and mother. She is even framed by hercousin who wants to destroy her goddess body, snatch her man, and steal hermoney.Scram!With the godly doctor possessing her body, she becomes ferocious.Cultivating a divine cultivation technique and refining divine pills, she tramples on bitches and slaps their faces, I'll let you know what it means tobe the favored daughter of heaven! She can produce worldly treasures herselfand picks up treasure everywhere she goes. It just makes one envious andjealous.In a unfortunate sequence of events, due to an intense poison, she “offends” a cold and handsome man in a moment of desperation.Legend had it the revered one in the dynasty, the Prince Charming of theeducational institution. If he catches her, he would want to torture and killher. What should she do?

My name is Joo In-gong. The name that my parents gave me meant ‘protagonist’ of the world. Really?

[Longevity + Discipleship + No Female Lead + Lighthearted Humor with No Tragic Moments]When his master picks food, he spins the table there;When his master chants spells, he chats without a care;When his master takes rest, he sings a lively song;When his master lies late, he bangs the pot along;His master lives on long, but his life is rather short;His master lays him down on the hillside, as a sort;His master lifts a cup, but he won’t take a drink;His master shares a tale, but he won’t stop to think;His master holds a feast, but he leaves the table wide;His master calls his soul, but he’s nowhere to abide.Spring returns to the hills, with blooms so bright and fair,Yet master and disciple are parted, one in heaven, one elsewhere.