The Villainess Enjoys Her Seventh Life as a Free-Spirited Bride (hostage) in a Former Enemy Country - Chapter 4: If you break off my engagement, would you be happy?

With her superb skills, Tang Ming has countless peach blossoms from small to large.

There is a President willing to contract fish ponds for her.

There are also overbearing male masters who are willing to make a fortune for her.

School grass keeps his body like jade for her, infatuated male leads are countless.

There are countless peach blossom debts, and the whole body is written with slag from top to bottom.

Until she encountered the system.

From then on, the road to ending slag, is getting farther and farther away…….

*School grass means the hottest guy in school.

- Description from Novelupdates

A story following a young hunter named Jay. He has grown up in a world where dungeons, monsters, and humans with leveling systems are a cultural norm. At the age of 20, he awakens a skill that allows him to steal the abilities of monsters. While others are stuck with a specific skill set, he continues to grow stronger after every battle.

Follow Jay's journey as he learns more about his unique situation in a world that's grown blind to the real dangers of modern-day dungeon diving.

A man who had emerged from the world’s most secure prison—God of Death Island, known as a super-powered being called the God of Death, had grown tired of the bloody storms abroad and now, like a hidden dragon, he had returned! But due to an accident, he became the contract husband of a beautiful CEO! From then on, he ruled the city, crushed the petty and wicked, and embarked on the tyrannical journey of an urban legend!

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.”