MTL - The Strongest Legend of Dragon Ball - v5 Chapter 240 Super Saiyan Mei Long

Everyone says he is an iceberg, but only Maya Spencer knows he is a volcano, and moreover, a volcano that is passionately unlimited for her, an indulgently pampering volcano.

Yu Linglong is the shu (born of a concubine) daughter in a general’s family. Since her mother was only a tribute dancer, her position is the lowest of the low. She used to live with her mother outside the father’s residence, and they only received some monthly money from him. He didn’t bother seeing them. But when her mother dies, she moves into the general’s residence.

An edict bestowed marriage.

A noble daughter with three strikes: no talent, no looks, no virtue.

A trash wangye – disfigured, disabled, seriously ill.

Everyone says: Perfect match!

Bridal veil down–she wore a shallow smile. Leisurely and calm. Having experienced life and death, she only wanted to lead a quiet life.

Going up to the wedding hall–he had a slight smile on his face; a heart as cold as ice. He suffered all kinds of humiliation, but there will be a day when he will stand above all beneath the heavens.

–He is my husband. To bully him is to bully me. To insult him is to insult me. To hurt him is to hurt me. If someone were to hurt me, I would have to get to rid of them!

–Benwang doesn’t believe in supernatural beings and doesn’t seek heaven. If she were to die, benwang would turn this entire world into purgatory and sacrifice this whole country to her!

- Description from Novelupdates

[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.