MTL - Lucky Wife at 50s - Chapter 150 150, a dream is so sweet

The Priest of a nameless God, Kyle.Forsaken by the ones he once called his companions.

A nuclear war ushered in the prosperity of human evolution! The higher the bloodline level, the stronger! The young Mo Tian, ​​awakened at the beginning of the S-class King Kong is not bad blood, incarnates the big muscle tyrant, killing all the way! If you are reasonable with me, be reasonable, and if you are not reasonable, you will be blown away!

The blood of King Kong is not bad for the first time to return to the ancestors…the second time to return to the ancestors…the Nth time to return to the ancestors, the blood of Pangu! (The killing is decisive, the extreme way pushes the flow horizontally, if you are not a virgin, do not enter if you are not happy)…

- Description from novelbuddy

[Female strong, 1v1, sweet text, male protagonist paid for the phone bill]

She was the big villain who made the raiders of all planes feel the fear, tearing up all the systems in a fit of rage.

Because it was too boring to be trapped in a small world, Qianyan grabbed a system and started a new mission.

The first plane: The queen worked hard to help the emperor to conquer the country, but was framed and sent to the cold palace and died of illness.

The original owner’s wish is that the children will live in peace, and Qianyan will directly abuse the scum and become the empress!

The second plane: The original owner’s wish is to protect the elder brother and prevent him from being disabled.

Qianyan: Is he not healthy? The original owner, are you satisfied?

The original owner: Satisfied… (really not forced at all)

The third plane…

Qianyan found that there was an acquaintance following her in almost every plane, and she wanted to be with her at every turn.

But she just wants to do tasks and careers, and doesn’t want to fall in love!

- Description from novelbuddy

[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.