My Talent's Name Is Generator - Chapter 221: Silver On A Mission

I transmigrated into the gacha game I abandoned for 10 years.But, the state of the heroes I raised is strange.

The overhead of the Tang Dynasty, the story of capturing the spirits.

“The stones on the other mountains are hard enough to carve and polish jade”.

To Prince Cheng, Lin Chengyou, Teng Yuyi is the piece of “jade” that he can not capture.

The proud son of the heavens is on the road to chase his wife to death.

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Lin Mu rescued a Samoyed.

Capable of eating, smiling, has a high IQ. Picks up anything you teach him quickly, a good helper around the house.

The only thing was that he doesn’t bark nor wag his tail.

Lin Mu took a ham sausage and coaxed for the thousandth time, “wag your tail, and this ham sausage is yours to eat.”

The Samoyed raised his eyes impatiently, and with a single shake of his tail, shook out nine.

Lin Mu: …… F*ck.

Afterwards, the fox that did not wish to reveal his name, Mr. Yan Xuanjing, said in an interview: “Now I regret, I deeply regret. At that time, I shouldn’t have pretended to be a dog to take advantage of him, shouldn’t have touched him, rubbed against him, eaten his food and slept in his bed. Now I have a home that I can’t return to and a wife I can’t sleep with, I regret, deeply regret.”

A learned and easy-going professional grudge-bearing Shou x A certain nine-tailed fox who refuses to say his name and was forced to go to the mortal realm without money Gong

- Description from Novelupdates

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.”