Post-apocalyptic World: Stockpile Ten Billion Supplies at the Beginning - Chapter 86

As the owner of an ordinary bookstore, Ling PingAn’s biggest wish was to muddle through life and do absolutely nothing.

That year, she made a run for it while pregnant. He was a powerful figure in the Malacca Strait, commanding respect in both legal and illegal circles. He allowed no one to cross him. So, at the engagement party when she was 25, a stranger in black claimed that the bride had taken his virginity and insisted that she take responsibility and return his... child.“Do you also want to marry me?” she asked him. Although the wording was wrong, they were both getting married, so he agreed to “marry” her. Having a child and taking the wife's surname seemed like no big deal to the big boss. Surprisingly, he decided to retire and become a stay-at-home dad, shocking his brothers!

There are gods in the sky, there are people on the earth, and there are no immortals in the world.

Three thousand years ago, the gods descended.

The cataclysm of the world, the aura weakens, and the immortals disappear;

One hundred and fifty years ago, the gods descended.

The rich Chipa Plateau and the invincible Panlong Ancient City have all been turned into loess;

After another hundred years, I, descended…

But the starting point to unravel all the mysteries, and even the key to survival in troubled times, starts with being a good dude;

Start from learning to hide the front and defend the clumsiness;

Start with an adventure;

Starting from reversing the established fate;

Most importantly, start by entering the dreamland of the gods.

- Description from novelbuddy

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.”