Guide to tame my villainous husbands - Chapter 1448: Revival (2)

Mochizuki Touya, a 15-year-old boy, who got zapped by a flash of lightning due to a freak accident caused by God, wakes up and finds himself face-to-face with God.

A pill, a tiny capsule encased in a biologically harmless water-soluble shell; A shell whose very existence is a result of a century of research and technological advancement. A manmade synthesis of Chemicals and product of complex processes.

And in the end, a means to an end.

A way to deliver a concoction of other Chemicals for an agenda; Vitamins for nutrition, medication for treatment, or… perhaps more.

We trust that what we eat won’t do us harm, and trust that those who are responsible for its creation had the best of intentions. But in the end, it is difficult or perhaps impossible to truly tell what lies within a pill.

That is until one day I entered a research institution as a test subject. All I did was swallow a pill I was told to be a health supplement.

Traveling through the Naruto world and becoming a member of the Uchiha clan, the third ninja war is about to start in a year or two, so panic.

At a critical moment, the golden finger goes online, and a character is drawn to obtain a random ability of the character, then am I not…

“Champion Mayweather’s shoulder-lifting defense, the flying cross-body for cooking a fish feast, Master Ma’s lightning five whips, Jack Ma’s skill guarding the road…

What kind of spicy chicken skills are these? “

- Description from novelbuddy

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.”