Little Tyrant Doesn’t Want to Meet with a Bad End - Chapter 17: Digging My Grave

On the way to a company workshop, we fell into a world of immortal cultivators while still in the car.

Those with spiritual roots and unique abilities were all called to join cultivation sects, living prosperously.

But I, having neither spiritual roots nor special abilities, lived as an ordinary mortal for 50 years, complying with fate until my death.

That’s what I thought.

Until I regressed.

Every novel has a slag character, the one who decides to abandon the protagonist at his lowest, most helpless point, either because he can’t stand the poor guy’s circumstances or for other reasons. But after the protagonist wins his way in life again, they’re the ones who beg with broken sobs to be taken back.

Still, water once spilled can’t be recovered again.

Yet the unlucky Shen Jiayan has been bound to a Water Recovery* System to do just that.

*water recovery – comes from an idiom that means “spilled water can’t be recovered” (English equivalent: there’s no use crying over spilt milk).

- Description from Novelupdates

In a fantasy world where martial artists can split mountains and creeks with a wave of their hand and break rivers with a kick, there exists a little restaurant like this.

The restaurant isn’t large, but it is a place where countless apex existences will rush into.

There, you can taste egg-fried rice made from phoenix eggs and dragon blood rice.

There, you can drink strong wine brewed from vermillion fruit and water from the fountain of life.

There, you can taste the barbecued meat of a ninth grade supreme beast sprinkled with black pepper.

What? You want to abduct the chef? That’s not going to happen, because there’s a divine beast of unfathomable level, the Hellhound, lying at the entrance.

Oh, that chef also has a robotic assistant that killed a ninth grade supreme being with a single hand and a group of crazy women whose stomachs were conquered.

- Description from Novelupdates

I was killed in a car accident while trying to avoid a stalker.

Is this a reward for dying a miserable death?

I was reborn as a character in a novel that had, not a golden spoon, but a diamond spoon.

I thought I could live my life over again.

Until I found out my brother was a budding psychopath.

“Sister, how about this doll? Do you want it?”

“Leave it.”

“What about this doll?”

My younger brother ties people up so they can’t move, and insists on them being dolls.

Even I am destined to be killed in the hands of my brother.

‘Let’s leave my little brother to the heroine of the novel before that day comes!’

But… my brother killed the heroine…