MTL - Doomsday - Chapter 8 Night talk

I, the mighty Telepath Starlord, got banished into the mortal world. The days in the mortal world are much better than those in heaven! Everything is here — money, authority and most importantly stunning beauties! I am from a rich family. Yes, I am indeed wealthy now. The kind of wealth where you would not want to displease me. Domineering CEOs, military big shots, business geniuses, you name it — I know them all! I know everything you are thinking about. You can’t defeat me anyway, how are you going to go against me? A century in the mortal world is only equivalent to a hundred days in heaven.

Behind the successful man, there was often such an ex-girlfriend. She was beautiful and nice, but favored the rich and disdained the poor. She abandoned him in the most difficult period of the man’s career, left him with a huge psychological shadow so that he no longer believed in love.

In the novel, such an ex-girlfriend usually may not get a good ending, used to set off as the true mistress of the cannon fodder. Unfortunately, Ren Qiao transmigrated into the book and become the ex-girlfriend who dumped the male lead, but the male lead still went against the counterattack…..

- Description from Novelupdates

Han Yi accidentally crossed into the Cultivation World and became an outer disciple of the Xuan Dan Sect.

Sects, Immortal Countries, Sacred Places, Heavenly Demons—the dangers in the Cultivation World were everywhere.

Fortunately, Han Yi had a Skill Panel.

Alchemy, Formations, Talismans, Divine Abilities, Magic Skills...

Just work hard, and everything will be alright.

……………………………………………………………

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What happens when, in the midst of struggling to keep up with life, you suddenly discover that you were a princess in a past life? Now, you're just a waitress with a drunken mother and a pile of bills to pay. But deep down, you know one thing: you’ll find the stupid jerk responsible for ending your royal life, no matter what it takes.Alexia POV:Then there are the spoiled, narcissistic rich jerks who think their daddy's car gives them a free pass to treat women like objects. Not today, Satan. These guys are like walking perfume ads with egos bigger than their bank accounts. I swear, they should just marry themselves—they're clearly their own type.When one of those jerks lands at my table, I can smell the entitlement from a mile away. I don't even wait for the inevitable sleazy pickup line or the “accidental” brush of their hand against mine. Nope. I pawn them off on one of the other waiters faster than you can say “unpaid rent.”