Rekindled Hearts: The Tycoon's Reluctant Love - Chapter 201 - 200: She Kicked Him Out of the Live Stream Directly

A tribulation lightning strike allowed her to be reborn with a mutated space. Parents are deceased, but not to worry, she has an agricultural expert grandfather. People bully her, but that's no problem, as she is a cultivator. The space is barren except for a single broken sapling that only consumes precious metals. The sapling indignantly asked: Others eat grass and give milk, what about you? The little immortal sapling spat and said: Here, remember to exchange it for some RMB.

What is my 1000-year-old monster self to do when I’ve failed my immortal ascension? Time travel — accidentally — and wind up back in my 9-year-old body, needing to re-cultivate, of course. But after that? Get REVENGE! Muahahahaha! But the idiot who killed me — also accidentally — was the main character of the dumb harem Xianxia I transmigrated into. But wait. Wasn’t he only 7 or 8 at this point in time? Well, since I can’t harm a child or the main character without suffering in some way, then I’ll just have to raise him better, faster, stronger, and loyal! Muahahahaha!

“From today onwards, you will become the Envoy of one of the Main Gods in the Dimensions of Gods. You will travel from one world to another and through that, you will attain what others will never obtain in their entire life.”

The moment these words echoed in Fang Li’s head, Fang Li’s life was destined to be extraordinary…

- 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.”