MTL - Douluo: If You Cut Me, You Will Lose the Treasure, Bibi Dong is Addicted - Chapter 60 As a figurative doll, Lin Yi got the real version of Bo Saixi's maid

Saintess wants to turn me into a sword spirit; the master wants me to be a rebel disciple; the blindfolded sword fairy senior sister wants to make me her slave; the fox from Qingqiu harbors ill intentions; the little dragon girl always drools over me; the princess wants to keep me in the deep palace...All I want is to cultivate immortality, so why do they always have designs on me!? Many years later, someone asks Lu Jin'an what kind of Dao heart supported him to get this far? Lu Jin'an glances at his charming and alluring wives and sighs faintly：“I just wanted freedom.”

She is the wife completely ignored by him, yet also the woman he most cherishes. Ultimately, she forces her husband to divorce her by taking on the identity of a lover!She steals vital information and, carrying this man's premium seed, successfully makes her getaway!Six years later, father and son have their first online confrontation. The little bean successfully infiltrates the man's system and sighs at her, “Mom, this person is so dumb. Is he really my dad?”Mu Yiliang pats her son's head and says reassuringly, “He was so terribly fooled by me back then, which shows his IQ is very low. Luckily, you inherited mine!”Unbeknownst to them, the man on the other end of the computer has already listened to the conversation between mother and son. He sneers coldly, “Very low IQ? Mu Yiliang, let's see where you're going to run this time!”

You thought being reincarnated as an extra-side character was bad? Imagine being thrown into the body of a villain who is disowned by his own family and discarded by the author.

[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.