MTL - True Martial World - Chapter 1654 Front eyes

Coming from the modern era, she was sent to a strange world. The body she possessed previously belonged to a young woman whose family was thrown away by their clan. However with the “Dan Fu Zong”, the inheritance from her old world, she steps on the path of cultivation, hoping to one day become an immortal.

- Description from Novelupdates

Rudel Arses, the first born of one of the ‘Three Lords’ of the Courtois Kingdom, is from a corrupted family, but at 5 years old, he saw a dragon in the sky and his dark future as a villain changed. He was considered an idiot, but was that true? How would his effort to become a dragoon change the kingdom?

When the pure lotus provoked her, she slapped her instantly, “It's just a pair of worn-out shoes. If you want them so desperately, take them and wear them.”President Jones intruded with a cheeky face, “Wife, even if they're worn-out shoes, I'd only let you wear them.”“Scram!”...【One man, one woman】Four years ago, she left in fury with the bun in her oven. Four years later—“Uncle, I noticed that your face has a gloomy look, it looks like you have excessive liver heat. It's obvious you lack a wife. Do you want to get to know my mommy?”The president who remained aloof from women looking at his mini-me, his eyes deepened. He immediately packed up the mother and child, and brought them back home, pampered them to the point of annoying everyone.Someone asked, “President Jones, isn't this a bit too unreasonable?”The president smirked coldly, “You expect me to be reasonable when pleasing my wife?”This is a story about an overbearing President Jones, who's fiercely dominant, and unreasonable in pampering his wife.

[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.