MTL - Part-Time Taoist Priest - Chapter 2 Ancestral middle finger

“I’m very talented, and I get twice the result with half the effort.”

“I am a genius that is rare to see in a hundred years, extraordinary in ten years, and holy in thirty.”

“My blood is against the sky, and I was born to be a king.”

Watching a group of geniuses arguing, Han Xu slowly closed his eyes and basked in the sun before falling asleep.

Diligence, perseverance, talent, resources, and opportunities are indispensable for the cultivation of others.

And he just needs to wait quietly for the skill to download.

A life without cultivation should be so unpretentious and boring.

- Description from novelbuddy

After finding out that her boyfriend was cheating on her, Qiao Sisi slept with a handsome stranger she picked up at the bar, only to wake up and realize that he was Zheng Zeyi, the cousin of her deadly rival, Yang Yueyue. She fled the room in a fluster, and put the embarrassing drunken fumble behind her.

Unexpectedly, the cold, roguish Zheng Zeyi came to her with a proposal—enter into a contractual engagement with him! It was a tempting offer Sisi could not resist, and it came with other perks. He could help her get a foot in the door of the prestigious Jinyu Company. It was a dream come true for an aspiring jewelry designer like her!

Sisi threw herself into the career opportunity of a lifetime, and as she exchanged barbs with Zeyi, she felt the first stirrings of attraction to him. Meanwhile, the resentful Yueyue was determined to thwart both her ambition and her blossoming relationship with her cousin.

I once believed I was the heroine of a modern fairytale, blessed with beauty, wealth, intelligence, and a powerful legacy. Men adored me, women envied me, and I was engaged to the most desirable man, Cole Fay. My life seemed perfect, a dream where I held the starring role. But on my eighteenth birthday, that illusion crumbled. The truth hit me hard: I wasn’t the protagonist, nor even the villain or a side character. I was just cannon fodder, a disposable part of someone else’s story. But when fate recognized the cruel joke of my life, I was granted a second chance. This time, I’ll write my own story, living for myself. And this time . . . I will never love you again.