Divorce Only Makes a Son-in-Law Stronger - Chapter 183 - 182, everyone gets a slap!

Once, Mu Anhan walked out on the man who loved her to madness—only to die and discover the price.Reborn, she clings to Gu Xiaozhan’s sleeve and whispers, “One more baby?”The tabloids sneer: “She’s nothing but a baby-maker, soon to be dumped.”Then her masks fall—perfume empress, top hacker, miracle doctor, AI genius, design prodigy.Now Nobel laureates queue at her gate.At night she curls in his arms, red lips teasing.Gu Xiaozhan lifts an eyebrow, voice low and scalding: “Ready for round three?”

Welcome to NecroCorp – Where War is Always in Stock!“Now with 15% off main battle tanks, because peace is bad for business.”Hello, traveler!Looking for a bone-forged sword? A modular mana cannon? Perhaps... a discounted main battle tank for your next kingdom raid?Oh wait, you're not a customer, you're a reader.Right. This is probably where I give you my “tragic backstory.” Fine.I used to be human.Then I died.Now I'm a Lich with a factory in a dead dungeon, a skeleton workforce that doesn't need lunch breaks, salaries, and a magical system that rewards me for selling stuff. So, I did what any sane undead would do: I started an arms corporation.Now I sell weapons to orcs, goblins, elves, humans, anyone with a grudge and a pile of magic stones. Need siege engines? Got 'em. Crossbows that reload themselves? Yup. Flamethrower golems? In development.But here's the trick: you can’t sell weapons if there’s no war.So when the world started calming down... well, I may have encouraged a few border skirmishes. For marketing purposes. Nothing personal. War drives demand, after all.So, if you're here for drama, explosions, undead capitalism, and morally questionable business strategies wrapped in bone and steel, you’ve come to the right dungeon.Just don’t ask about the warranty.There isn’t one that lived to tell and ask about it.

In the house, there is an adorably mischievous sweet wife, she is cunning and sly yet delicate.She can be dominant, submissive, or a lolita; adorable, mature, or quirky.She is witty and lively, tearing apart scumbag men and women with ease.The spring breeze gently blows for ten miles, the time is right, and I love you~When she picked up her intelligence again, she found everything had changed.When she discarded her soft-heartedness, she realized she could no longer be hurt.When she rolled up her sleeves, ready to work hard, she found that the aloof male god had entangled himself with her.He said affectionately, “All you need to do is behave, let me handle the scums.”

I am a female secretary of an overbearing president in a typical dog blood drama text.

The kind of person who doesn’t have a name at the end of the day, and could only be called “secretary”, one who wears a tight fitting black dress and a pair of 10cm high heels every day, running around in front of the president, humbly praying for the president’s attention, and hating the heroine.

In fact, I really don’t. If I like the president, I’ll be struck by lightning.

I’m getting more and more sick of the president lately. Except for the outstanding appearance that the author forced on him, this person is really useless from head to toe, low in EQ, and low in IQ.

A legendary business genius who is all-powerful, but he doesn’t even understand anything, chickens know more than him.

I had to reject all of his unreasonable demands every day, and on the way, teach him relevant knowledge of economic law and finance, and gradually…he became a master.

I’m so tired, I really want to quit my job.

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