MTL - Rebirth Starts From 2006 - Chapter 8 impossible

With her superb skills, Tang Ming has countless peach blossoms from small to large.

There is a President willing to contract fish ponds for her.

There are also overbearing male masters who are willing to make a fortune for her.

School grass keeps his body like jade for her, infatuated male leads are countless.

There are countless peach blossom debts, and the whole body is written with slag from top to bottom.

Until she encountered the system.

From then on, the road to ending slag, is getting farther and farther away…….

*School grass means the hottest guy in school.

- Description from Novelupdates

Thanks to the so—called God, I somehow ended up as Uchiha Itachi’s younger brother and Sasuke’s twin.Wild, right?If I had to sum it up, I’d say, “Losing Shonen Jump is one thing, but losing your integrity? Now that’s a tragedy.”But let’s be real—none of that matters when you’ve got the Gojo System from the get-go. Yeah, you heard that right. From the moment I landed in this world, I was set to flex on the entire ninja world.And just like that, Konoha got itself a brand-new, utterly bizarre Uchiha.

In the middle of a deserted island, a small boy wakes up with two sets of memories: one from his few years of life and the other from a man who lived to adulthood and achieved great things. When he least expected it, a powerful master appeared on the island and took him in as a disciple, revealing a shocking fact: magic exists in that world, and, thanks to it, humanity managed to conquer the galaxy.

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.”