MTL - You Are My Rare Passion - Chapter 8054 Is there any reward?

Qin Yi was reborn half a month’s time before the apocalypse. In this life, having already seen the true colors of her scumbag sister and father, she swore to let them have a taste of their own medicine—an eye for an eye. She disguised herself as a man and kept improving, getting stronger day by day. Common people hailed her as «Prince», making countless people bow in homage.

One month after getting married, her lord husband went hunting for monsters and returned as a corpse.In shock, Penelope realizes she has been reincarnated into a novel.However, before she could even accept the fact that she was reincarnated, the affairs of the estate piled up!“The price of turnips has dropped again.”“The people of the estate need at least three months’ worth of emergency supplies to survive the winter.”“Firewood…?”“Water…?”Wait, hold on… I don’t know anything about managing an estate!• • •“I need to hire a wizard to work in the estate.”“He’ll work for exactly 100,000 gold.”It seems like there’s no escaping this, so she ends up getting help from the Archmage… but something about this guy seems suspicious.“Do you want to touch it?”“What? What do you mean?”“My hair. Didn’t you keep staring at it because you wanted to touch it?”The guy, who was the most powerful Archmage and the sweet dog-like secondary male lead, seems to have lost his mind somewhere along the way.Should I just escape from the estate?

Life Demon, Order Demon, Knowledge Demon, Fate Demon, War Demon…When various bizarre powers invaded, the world was clearly divided into two distinct sides.Some worship them as gods, walking upon the earth as their spokespeople.Others choose to drink a glass of strong liquor on scarlet nights, and raise the hunting rifle in their hands

[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.