Cultivation! My Augmented Statuses Have Unlimited Duration - Chapter 866 - Fengdu’s First Lady (2)

All the people in the Tarot Empire know that the third young master of Le family is the most domineering, arrogant and beautiful Omega in the Empire. I don’t know how many alphas want him, but they dare not marry him. Now, under the order of the Imperial Marriage Center, this overlord flower will marry General Xu Yao, who is known as the ruthless Hell’s King of the Empire.

Tsk! It’s going to be fun!

So after X days of marriage…

Xu Yao: Butler, my wife hasn’t bullied you these days?

Butler: No, Madam is very kind, but he seems to think that you are a bit rude, he asked me to give you this paper.

It’s written:

~ Little Red Flower Agreement ~

Don’t swear a day, reward one little red flower.

Keep reading every night, reward two little red flowers.

Do good deeds, reward three little red flowers.

Get three hundred little red flowers, you can pa pa pa!

Xu Yao: Pei!!! You think Lao Zi is a dog in heat and wants to do it with you?!

After a month…

Xu Yao: Hurry! I still need three more, whose family is bankrupt this time? I’ll send a charity money, hurry! ! !

Cheerful, kind and virtuous wife vs Black belly and pampering husband, 1vs1, HE

- Description from Novelupdates

I am Racist.…I mean, my name is Racis T.I was a stand-up comedian. The flop kind. The type who only got laughs when someone else was roasting him.One night, I was doing a gig at a shady, run-down bar—the kind where tattooed bikers drink motor oil for breakfast. I went in with my usual dark humor, but my jokes were getting the same reaction as my dating profile: complete silence.That didn’t sit right with my inner artist, who was already starving to death. So I did what any committed comedian would—I went darker.Turns out, one of my jokes (or all of them?) triggered a guy so hard that he pulled a trigger. Headshot. Instant death.But hey, look at this: A guy got triggered, so he pulled the trigger. That’s wordplay. But who cares? I’m dead anyway.All I wanted was a successful show, people laughing, and maybe a few girls swooning over my wit. I never cared about money. The millions I’d have made would have gone to charity—specifically, 0.001% of it. See? I’m generous like that.Anyway, death is death. My story should’ve ended there.But… if there is an afterlife, I had a simple wish: become a successful comedian, find a loving wife, and have just enough money to afford three meals a day… and maybe a humble little private yacht. Or a jet. But that’s it. Because, like I said, I don’t care about money.Unfortunately, wishes don’t work that way.Because, well—there was an afterlife.And it was absolutely not what I wished for.

Doomsday was approaching…