Tempest of the Battlefield - Chapter 177: The Ultimate Strategy

Luo Qing Chen is a wandering spirit that died thirty thousand years ago, roaming the Chaos Space

In order to not turn into dust, she is bound by an ice cold system to travel through time and space to complete missions.

Girls that pretend to be weak?  Slap them without explaining.

A silly cannon fodder?  Helping them amass treasures.

Meeting a real male god?  All of them will pamper.

System: Dear masters, what do I do if my host even dares bully the heavens?  Waiting for an answer, it’s urgent!

A certain male god: Change systems.

System: ヽ〔?Д?〕丿

Kevin Duke, an 18-year-old martial artist, by accident, is reborn an becomes a high school student who was kicked out of the family. Since then, this king of Kung Fu in school has been sweeping all kings of enemies. The whole world is shaking behind him. P.S. This book has been prepared for many years. it's a total wonderful story. The author has related writing experience for more that 8 years. Recommend heartly!

The outbreak of an unknown virus infection has turned the city of Hanghai into a living hell. The people infected have turned into scary zombies. Three months ago, Qin An’s wife divorced him and told him that the virus was about to spread and that Hanghai city was about to become a quarantine area, leaving him with a pile of supplies. Three months later, he has slowly healed his wounds from the divorce, and now he’s thinking about how to live.

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.”