I Don't Want to Get Hurt, So I'll Max Out My Defense - Chapter 749: 750: The Mysterious Treasure Appears

With her superb skills, Tang Ming has countless peach blossoms from small to large.

There is a President willing to contract fish ponds for her.

There are also overbearing male masters who are willing to make a fortune for her.

School grass keeps his body like jade for her, infatuated male leads are countless.

There are countless peach blossom debts, and the whole body is written with slag from top to bottom.

Until she encountered the system.

From then on, the road to ending slag, is getting farther and farther away…….

*School grass means the hottest guy in school.

- Description from Novelupdates

“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’.)

Yuan Ye and film emperor Fang Shaoyi were married for ten years. After a stamp from the Ministry of Civil Affairs, they got divorced and their red booklets became green booklets. Back when they had gotten married, they had proudly announced the news to the whole world. After their divorce, though, neither dared to speak up, determined to hide this development.

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.”