MTL - Surprise! The Supposed Talent Show Was Actually–?! - Chapter 162 Building

Luke a 13-year-old boy lover of all kinds of novels, series, and manga, dies and is reincarnated in Wednesday's world with above-average psychic powers.As he immerses himself in the world of outcasts and monsters, he will discover that it is not as simple as it seems. Luke in his new life is a descendant of the famous writer Edgar Allan Poe and must deal with an old family grudge.

All my life, I never once know what it is to be a family. My parents did not care about me and didn't let me start with my siblings.Even when I diagnose with Terminal Illness by the doctor, they did not care about me.The only thing that accompanies me in this lonely hospital bedroom is the game called Second Life. Sadly, all good things must end, and so is Second Life.I decide to stay inside the game until the end and wait for me to release my final breath.However, I'm reincarnated to another life when I open my eyes. I promise to enjoy my Second Life in this world.Now, if only this woman stopped calling me a villain for a second, that would be great.

Black belly, online IQ

Reborn in the magnificent world of cultivating immortals

Everything is based on ‘stability’, and everything is settled before moving, and when moving, there is a thunderbolt, and after moving, there is no sound.

Hidden cards, refining elixir, practicing escape, and practicing spells.

Drugboy official group: 547741836

- 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.”