MTL - The Landlord And His Wife - Chapter 149 : hatred

Ark travels to a world of cultivating immortals where men are inferior to women.

In this world, the uprights are women, the villains are women, the cultivators are women, and even the creator gods who created the world are women. ?

As a pretty boy who is coveted everywhere, Fang Zhou is under a lot of pressure.

Girls want to play with him, but also want to catch him back to play.

For the sake of his own life, Fang Zhou had no choice but to turn into a steel hunk and resist to the end. ?

“Go away, that stinky woman, don’t disturb my cultivation!”

………………

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What’s worse than finding out you’re that Louis XIV when you’re a baby?

Of course there is, for example, it’s still a magic version.

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By a series of freakish accidents, she provokes the feared and mysterious “God of Night”.

When someone bullies her, he says, “Only two types of people bully my wife: those who haven’t crossed her path, and those who have already died. Which do you want to be?”

When someone questions her, he says, “Everything my wife does is right! Those who disagree can have a little chat with me!”

When he goes home, he pleads in a low voice, “Wifey~ Can I not sleep in the study today?”

“You can consider sleeping on the streets.”

“Well, I’ll sleep in the study, then.”

At night, he abducts his freshly-showered wife into the study. She shrieks, “Sheng Nanxuan! What are you doing?!”

“Sleeping… in… the… study!”

The next day, his wife dashes out of the room with tears in her eyes and a sore waist. That isn’t what she meant by “sleeping in the study”…

Let someone else go to war, you, lucky Austria, go get married! What the god of war can give you, the god of love can also give you.

The smoke of the Napoleonic Wars has dissipated, and the Vienna system that once brought peace to Europe is riddled with holes. Beneath the seemingly peaceful appearance, there is a vortex of the times with undercurrents, the tranquility before the storm.

The air is filled with the steaming mist of sweat, and the choking black smoke makes it hard to breathe. On the elegant dining table, a group of soldiers and fat men in suits are pushing each other, feasting on the feast called the world, hanging on the wall Van Gogh’s self-portrait with waltz in his ears.

Suddenly the music turned into a march, and the picture also turned to the battlefield. Soldiers marched in a neat line, walking towards the machine gun barbed wire.

A shell fell on the ground, and after the smoke passed, countless cavalry rushed to the artillery position.

Accompanied by a loud noise, a wooden plane flew close to the ground, then pulled up rapidly, broke through the clouds, and shone brightly.

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