MTL - Weird Deep-sea Game, I Can Fish Without Limit - Chapter 8 The stronger the person, the easier it is to become stronger

At the age of eleven, the youth Ye Xuan's soul traveled through time to the distant Mythical Era, becoming an Undying monster emerging from the Emperor's Burial Ground, influencing one era after another. Yet behind Ye Xuan, an invisible force manipulated everything. Struggling to take control of his fate, Ye Xuan exhausted all means, but just as he was on the brink of success, he was betrayed by his disciple and wife, causing his soul to slumber for ninety thousand years.When Ye Xuan awoke, he found himself back in his own body and had become the son-in-law of the Emperor Immortal Sect, treated by others as a fool. The story begins from here.Eternal Emperor Soul, returned overnight.From then on, an emperor rose as a son-in-law, ushering in an invincible myth that dominated through the ages!Simplified version: The foolish son-in-law, soul returned, rose in one morning, invincible through all ages.Show-off version: “I am invincible; do as you please.” — Ye Xuan.Meme version: That year, my hands in my pockets, I knew no rivals.

The Mad Cultivator follows the tale of Ye Kong, a rude and vulgar thug from modern day China. While collecting protection fees, he was sent to another world! By the time he realized what was going on, he was possessing the body of an idiot. Watch as Ye Kong struggles against fate to climb the road to immortality!

- Description from Novelupdates

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.”