PREVIEW

... ious operation guides to help these primitive people understand how to operate.

Cultivators, as the top-tier individuals among the populace, possess the finest intelligence, agency, and operational skills, making it easy for them to understand these things.

Generally speaking, everyone sets their photo as their avatar and a nickname as their ID.

If a nickname is repeated, they add a prefix, such as "Honest and Lovely Cao Xiaojun," "Chaste Cao Meng De," or "West Wasteland ...

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Untolerated by heaven, a boy was restricted by the most powerful spell.

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“You slut! You cheated on me! I want a divorce!”

“Do it willingly, or I will expose your shameless acts to the public!”

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Caught cheating by her husband, best friend, and mother-in-law, Shen Yin wanted to explain herself but could not.

She had never expected that her surprise for her husband would go so wrong.

However, when she returned home to find her husband and her best friend in bed, she realized that it was just their ploy!

Signing the divorce papers, Shen Yin left with resolve, and made a grand return five years later as a beautiful forensic doctor with a son, here to torture scum and to woo new lovers! One day, her child whistled at a man with a Maserati, saying, “You don’t have to wait for my mom, sir. She’s gone to register her marriage!”

The man alighted and picked him up, growling, “I’m your father. Address me as such!”

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Who was Shen Yin marrying when her baby daddy was right here?!

Gritting his teeth and dashing to the civil office, he scooped Shen Yin and threw her over his shoulder as he carried her away, smacking her painfully on the butt as he did.

“You’ve gotten bold… but don’t think you can marry anyone else behind my back! I’ll straighten you out tonight, in bed!”

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My name is Yan, and since I was a child, I’ve been able to see some strange things.For example—In elementary school, our new neighbor Aunt Tan had a pair of all-around genius twins, who were like the “precious little geniuses” with halos above their heads. They could recite the English-Chinese dictionary backwards at three, master both Chinese and Western musical instruments by five, and hack into a country’s database by seven…Growing up next to such prodigies, my life was inhumane, tragic, and constantly subjected to comparisons.To escape the comparisons with these “other people’s children,” I specifically applied to a private boarding school for middle school.On my first day, my deskmate was a small, thin girl with bangs, wearing an old uniform, and her voice was as faint as a mosquito’s.Three months later, she woke up from a nap with a “rebirth” halo above her head.She moved effortlessly among the cold academic genius, the wolf-like school bully, the fierce boss, and the gentle childhood friend, leaving me, a lonely onlooker, utterly amazed.By university, I thought I had finally escaped this abnormal world.But as soon as I stepped into my dorm room, my footsteps froze.My roommates each had halos like “ancient times to modern,” “post-apocalyptic superhuman,” “will die if not spending money,” and “ghost king revival.”I clutched my little blanket and applied to the counselor for a room change, but to no avail.Over time, I gradually got used to it. “Handover systems,” “management systems,” “book transmigration,” “infinite worlds,” “three-and-a-half-year-olds,” “interstellar live streams,” “red envelope groups”…The types of halos kept increasing, and I was able to calmly ignore all of it, focusing on my own life.Every morning, I skillfully helped my “ancient to modern” roommate, who was being blacklisted online, dodge campus paparazzi and secure seats for class.At noon, I assisted my tycoon roommate in distributing today’s haul of luxury skincare and designer bags, tasting the city’s top private chef’s custom lunchbox, and exclaiming with emotion, “Darling, can I really accept these?”In the evening, I enjoyed the flowers and plants cultivated by my superhuman roommate on the balcony, tasting a mutated cherry tomato and commenting, “I feel refreshed and purified.”Late at night, when my ghost king roommate quietly climbed back through the window, I peeked out to ask, “You’re back a bit late today, didn’t bring anything back, did you?”My name is Yan, and I am not the protagonist of this world.