MTL - The First Order - Chapter 1188 Kill

After living in a desolate land, where there wasn’t even a single blade of grass and hunger was an everyday reality, Min Sung finally returns to Earth: his home.

He just became the newly-crowned movie emperor when he died a tragic (actually, very stupid) death. On his way to cross the NaiHe bridge, he managed to evade Meng Po and not drink her soup. Thus keeping the memories of the life that he just had.But he would never have imagined that he would be reincarnated hundreds of thousands of years later. In the Interstellar era! If it happened to other guys, they would definitely want to be a mecha warrior. Don't most men dream of that at least once in their life? But sadly, that's not for him.There's only one goal in his mind - to be the number one star in the Interstellar era.With the knowledge and skills he got from his past life, he would definitely achieve it.But who was this annoying person who kept on pestering him?A certain prince smiled in a scary and crazy way: Cook food for me or else die.= a few months later =A certain prince leaned over and moved his face closer: I don't need food, I could just eat you.A bad tempered yandere gong X a reincarnated movie emperor shou*NaiHe bridge - a bridge that souls crossed to enter reincarnation**Meng Po - the lady on the Naihe bridge who gives out soup that lets the souls forget their memories, thus entering the cycle of reincarnation in a clean slate.

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.”