The Big-Shot is Pampered after She Becomes the Villainness - Chapter 525 - : Internet Trolls

From ancient times to the present, it is rumored that there is a spiritual realm in the world.

Regarding the theory of the spiritual realm, celebrities and scholars in the past dynasties have different opinions. The poem records:

“From Qi to Tang, Zishan?

“The spiritual realm is indescribable, and it is difficult to ask for forgiveness for ghost workers.”

- Description from novelbuddy

Han Yun was spoiled from childhood.

He survived past his emperor dad and crown prince elder brother, and became an emperor.

He didn’t know how to govern the country, but he was lucky—there was a Grand Preceptor who “assisted” him, spoiling him even more than his father did.

After just a few years, this puppet emperor died. When he awakened, he had transmigrated into the modern world, becoming a third-rate model struggling alone without any loving parents.

Just when he thought he had become a little cabbage that nobody wanted and no one would ever spoil him again, a certain ancient monster of a Grand Preceptor who had lived 1,000 years appeared again… and looked to be doing quite well for himself.

The utterly impoverished little emperor had tears in his eyes: “Beloved subject! Zhen (royal We) have missed you so much!”

Grand Preceptor: “Your Majesty, this minister has waited for you for a thousand years.”

- Description from Novelupdates

Benedict was transported to a world of cultivation and awakened the Invincible Domain system. Within this domain, he was invincible!

[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.