To My Dear Mr. Huo - Chapter 808 - I Want Them to pay the price

This novel is also known as Don't Mess with the Dark Princess

When trash becomes a genius—one word: Fierce! Two words: Two-faced! Three words: Too heaven defying!

She is the foremost and outstanding armament refining master. Passing through a dynasty, and became a publicly humiliated and bullied Third Young Miss. Ancient beasts, too outrageous? Obediently become a docile pet, or I’ll make you into soup!

Ninth rank talent, rare talent in a thousand years? She was born with a godly constitution, crushing all geniuses!

Peak level Profound Grade Armament, beyond priceless? Sorry to embarrass, but the bowl she uses to feed the cat is already at the God Grade….. she possessed a pair of eyes that could see through everything, yet she couldn’t see through—him!

Merely exposing his demonic smile, Prince Mou lightly loosened his belt: “Can’t see through? Do not fret, you can slowly view when you return to the room. I’ll allow you to scrupulously inspect from head to toe.”

- Description from Novelupdates

Char lived alone in the closed beta test of “Fantasy World” for thousands of years. He had already experienced 177 data wipes. In this span of time, he had already successfully charmed all of the NPC beauties, challenged all of the bosses single-handedly, gathered all of the divine weapons and used hundreds of methods to complete the online game as though it was a replayable console game. Just as he was losing the ability to differentiate whether he was a player or an NPC, the public beta started for “Fantasy World”. As such, a player who was even more terrifying than a boss was born.

One day, the stuntman found that acquaintances and unfamiliar people were looking for him through various channels. Even someone from a certain department of the country came—

[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.