MTL - Quick Transmigration: Reforming the Blackened Big BOSS - Chapter 1327 Immortals Are Not Immortals (85)

Shi Qian opened her eyes and looked at the man’s handsome face.

“You have to be responsible to me.”

The thin lips of a certain black-bellied evildoer slightly hooked, with a smile that was not a smile.

From then on, there was an extra goblin in the house of Lord Zhan, the great demon king of the imperial capital! The big devil turned into a faint king and spoiled the little goblin to the sky!

Some people: “It’s useless except for that face, it’s just a vase! I’ll be dumped by Master Zhan sooner or later!”

Not long after… the legendary god turned out to be that little goblin!

Why does the boss of the hacker army look a bit like that little goblin!

The founder of the popular game on the Internet is more like that little goblin.

The woman who defeated the number one expert in the ancient martial arts is also a bit like… a boss! Kneel down!

- Description from novelbuddy

“Crobat I choose you” said KogaStrength : Elite levelAs our new Ash/Oliver saw this he is feeling nostalgicNow that he thinks about it should he choose Pikachu or Charmander?************This is a translation of Pokemon : Wisdom series

Xu Xiuwen, who was battered and bruised, was reborn and found himself back at the farewell dinner after the college entrance examination. It was the year 2005. Facing the aggressive former love rival and the childhood sweetheart he once had a crush on, he decided to start a new life. After being reborn, he not only wants to recover the white moonlight that he missed in his previous life, but also builds his own business empire. Fame and fortune, career and love, he wants them all!

[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.