Ending Maker - Chapter 98: Cross (1)

As the number one pill alchemist of the immortal world, Mu Chen had always believed that it was because he had single-mindedly focused on concocting pills that led to him to neglect disciplining his disciple. Which in turn, caused his disciple to be led astray by the seduction of devil cultivation, leading to the three realms to fall to disaster. After his rebirth, Mu Chen resolved to properly teach his disciple, give him the very best resources, earnestly love him, carry him close to his heart, teach him by way of example, and didn’t let him grow corrupt.

“Mr. Xu, are you really a Heavenly Master?”

“As genuine as they come, more real than gold!”

“I’ve heard that your reputation in the supernatural circle is really bad, even to the point where a ghost once called the police saying you were threatening him?”

“Impossible!”

“It wasn’t me!”

“Don’t talk nonsense!”

Xu Yang clenched the Thousand-Year Peachwood Sword in his hand, and said, “What’s the name of that ghost? Would you dare to let him confront me face to face?”

(PS: This book is also known as ‘This Heavenly Master is too Vicious’, ‘Scaring Ghosts Makes You Stronger’.)

-Welcome back home~Shall we start with a bath today, or eat first?-Isn't there a third option?-Nope, so let's eat first. I made omelette rice today.-Speaking of omelette rice, there should be that 'maid magic', right?-I really can't handle you... moe moe kyuu~ make it taste good~ moe moe chu~-And what about a heart with the fingers?-I'll give you a head with my heart!The maid finally lost her patience and slammed the omelette rice onto Lin Shuang's head.Lin Shuang: That feels better.

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.”