MTL - Female Queen Quick Time Travel: The Wife is a Husband Lover - Chapter 927 Lovely woman at the door (7)

“F**K! I'm dead!”That was the first word I muttered after regaining my memories from Earth.Reincarnating into a world of cultivation should’ve been a blessing. Adventure, immortality, power—what’s not to love?But then I remembered what my family did.My sister just broke off an engagement with a crippled young master—definitely a future protagonist.My mother ripped a Dao Bone from my cousin and gave it to me—guaranteed future revenge arc.And me? I’m already a third-rate villain: bullying weaklings and flaunting my Bai Clan name.Worst part? Despite the Dao Bone, I’m still trash at cultivation.My only hope?The System... which I’ve had for years.“I just never realized... It was in English!”

Sixty Years ago, one middle aged man brought a Qilin that looked like a pug and a mandarin duck that looked exactly like a duck, walking into the Imperial City of the Central Plains for the first time.

At 3 years of age, her father went missing. At 15, the muscle in her hand snapped. At 16, her mother passed away in a car accident. At 19, she was framed by her uncle. At 22, she was burned alive by her newly- wedded husband and her best friend. Perhaps it was God’s sympathy that allowed her to return to the time when she was 15 years old to re-live once more. The previous lifetime of being low- key and having forbearance resulted in betrayal and misery. In this lifetime, she must be lofty and domineering to let those who have bullied her suffer a terrible end!

- Description from Novelupdates

[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.