Pet King - Chapter 161: The Wrong Generation

A fully immersive game known as “Game of Gods” had swept the world by storm.

It was an online game about elves, magical beasts, and gods, and players could choose to play as one of the vast selection of classes and skills.

As soon as Occam logged into the game, he was rewarded with a 10x point system.

Since he was too lazy to move around in the game using various active skills, he decided to pour all of his points into the passive skills.

He fully leveled a ton of passive skills that could allow him to defeat a boss without even moving, skills such as Counter Attack, Sacrifice, Stun, Evasion, Magic Damage Nullifier, and more.

When the players witnessed how Occam defeat his foes, they all had the same reaction. “What the hell? He doesn’t have to move and he’s literally a God!”

I transmigrated into the body of the Villainous Young Master.Why am I a fake while everyone else is real?!The real Young Master wants to oppress me. Even my fiancee wants to break off our engagement.Bring it on, then!Just when HuMing was about to beat up the b*tches and scumbags, the gazes of the girls around him became increasingly strange.“Didn’t we say only to cooperate?”“Well, we’re just here for our payment.”The gentle smiles on the girls’ faces made HuMing weak on his knees.

Is money really everything in a life?

An Yin, a delicate beauty caught in a risky charade, pretends to date playboy Bo Cheng to escape her troubles—until she meets his brother, ​Bo Shaojin: the ruthless, untouchable CEO whose icy dominance rules both boardrooms and high society.Their first encounter crackles with sizzling tension. Shaojin’s piercing gaze lingers on An Yin, his brother’s “girlfriend,” as she trembles under his scrutiny. But when their paths collide again—her, half-dressed and panic-stricken in his bathroom; him, a storm of restraint and hunger—the line between duty and desire shatters.As An Yin’s fake relationship unravels, Shaojin’s ironclad control dissolves. Drunk on obsession, he corners her in a midnight confession, his hardened facade crumbling as he vows, “I won’t touch you…” But his hands whisper promises his words deny.