MTL - Wasteland Commander - Chapter 176 Newly added magic weapon! (Please subscribe)

Pre-Reading Note:Please be advised that some chapters in this book may contain a higher word count. However, this does not compromise the reading experience; the story remains captivating and enjoyable throughout. Dive in and enjoy the journey!Qingmei, “My husband is proficient in medicine and is a compassionate healer. He is the most famous physician in Yuzhou City!”An Jing, “My wife is gentle and virtuous, a great cook, and a beautiful woman…”Beneath the moonlight,two swords clashed with each other as two figures exchanged blows.Qingmei asked, “Husband, aren’t you a doctor?”An Jing questioned, “Madam, aren’t you a graceful lady from a noble family?”

Anger. Pain. Desolation.

When her father passed away, her mother married into a large family. She thought it'll be a new beginning of her life, but it only brought her an substitute marriage to a disabled husband her step-sister didn't want.On the second day of their marriage, the noble and aloof man said indifferently, “Divorce or live as a widow, choose one.”She pulled off his suit pants and touched his firm and sexy thigh, “I choose the third option!”Latter, she used her medical skills to healing and saving people, including her disabled husband, who turned out to be a hidden billionaire!Nobles and celebrities sought medical advice, flocking to her like ducks.Those who humiliated her regretted it deeply, begging for mercy on their knees.The billionaire smiled proudly, “My wife is a treasure, only her husband knows it!”She rubbed her waist and gritted her teeth, “Didn't you say that you wanted a divorce and warned me to stay away from you?”

[Longevity + Discipleship + No Female Lead + Lighthearted Humor with No Tragic Moments]When his master picks food, he spins the table there;When his master chants spells, he chats without a care;When his master takes rest, he sings a lively song;When his master lies late, he bangs the pot along;His master lives on long, but his life is rather short;His master lays him down on the hillside, as a sort;His master lifts a cup, but he won’t take a drink;His master shares a tale, but he won’t stop to think;His master holds a feast, but he leaves the table wide;His master calls his soul, but he’s nowhere to abide.Spring returns to the hills, with blooms so bright and fair,Yet master and disciple are parted, one in heaven, one elsewhere.