MTL - My Chief Husband, Too Mensao! - Chapter 101 The power dog filthy her cheating plagiarism

Hong Heeju is a sign language interpreter who has become mute due to severe depression.For three years of their arranged marriage, she and her husband never exchanged a single conversation.One day, her life takes a harrowing turn when she’s taken hostage.‘Don’t hang up! This isn’t a phishing call…!’However, her husband, who was even worse than a stranger, coldly disconnected the call.– “Call me when a body is found.”***You $%#£! He’s such a jerk!Overwhelmed with anger, Heeju decides to threaten her husband anonymously.The problem is that he was a well-known spokesperson for the Blue House.– “Can’t you send threats on time?”“That…”– “Here I’m anxiously waiting for my blackmailer’s call.”“What do you…”– “Are you playing around with someone else besides me?”“…?”Wait, is this the same sociopath husband I knew?——–TL/N: ‘Blue House’ was the official residence and office of the President of the Republic of Korea from 1948-2022.

Akira Tsukihara was a romance author who despised love. Though she wrote best-selling novels filled with idealistic romance, she harbored nothing but contempt for the genre and the readers who adored it. Love, in her eyes, was a lie—an illusion that blinded people from the true forces of the world: power, betrayal, and ambition. One night, in a fit of frustration, she cursed love itself... and woke up trapped inside one of her own stories.Reborn as Aira, a nameless peasant girl in the Kingdom of Seraphis—a world she had meticulously crafted—Akira quickly realizes that reincarnation isn’t the fantasy dream she had written about. She isn’t a noble, a princess, or a heroine blessed with beauty and power. She is a nobody. A commoner, struggling to survive in the harsh realities of the medieval world she had once designed as a mere backdrop for her grand romances.As Aira, she faces starvation, endless labor, and the crushing weight of insignificance. But Akira was never one to accept fate. If she couldn’t escape this world, she would rewrite the story on her own terms. She would carve her name into history—not as the lovestruck heroine of a cliché romance, but as the mastermind who would bend the world to her will.In a land ruled by noble bloodlines and political schemes, where the romance tropes she once loathed play out before her eyes, Aira sets her sights on one goal: destroying the very ideals of love that had imprisoned her in this wretched world.Even if it means becoming the villain of her own story.

After 10,000 years of intense, solitary cultivation inside the Immortal Palace, Ancestor Li Shen finally steps outside —only to realize the world has changed, his sect is broke, and the juniors are clueless.Naturally, he does what any enlightened master would do:He starts throwing spirit stones at the problem.Need cultivation pills? Buy them in bulk.Sect disciples weak? Dump divine weapons on them like party favors.Enemy sects causing trouble? Bribe their ancestors into early retirement.Soon, Li Shen isn’t just revered as the most powerful being alive —he’s the richest, loudest, and most dramatically dressed cultivator to ever walk the continent.With a golden flying palace shaped like a reclining dragon and a pet phoenix that doubles as a chef, Li Shen’s new path to immortality is paved with cash, chaos, and really questionable decision-making.Will he reach true enlightenment?Will the Heavens finally notice him and file a noise complaint?Find out in this completely serious tale of wealth, wisdom, and way too many spirit stones.

I am Racist.…I mean, my name is Racis T.I was a stand-up comedian. The flop kind. The type who only got laughs when someone else was roasting him.One night, I was doing a gig at a shady, run-down bar—the kind where tattooed bikers drink motor oil for breakfast. I went in with my usual dark humor, but my jokes were getting the same reaction as my dating profile: complete silence.That didn’t sit right with my inner artist, who was already starving to death. So I did what any committed comedian would—I went darker.Turns out, one of my jokes (or all of them?) triggered a guy so hard that he pulled a trigger. Headshot. Instant death.But hey, look at this: A guy got triggered, so he pulled the trigger. That’s wordplay. But who cares? I’m dead anyway.All I wanted was a successful show, people laughing, and maybe a few girls swooning over my wit. I never cared about money. The millions I’d have made would have gone to charity—specifically, 0.001% of it. See? I’m generous like that.Anyway, death is death. My story should’ve ended there.But… if there is an afterlife, I had a simple wish: become a successful comedian, find a loving wife, and have just enough money to afford three meals a day… and maybe a humble little private yacht. Or a jet. But that’s it. Because, like I said, I don’t care about money.Unfortunately, wishes don’t work that way.Because, well—there was an afterlife.And it was absolutely not what I wished for.