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... I'll teach you how to circulate your Eon Energy and to control them to every path of your body," Zhan Jing remarked as they stopped midway.

"Ok."

"Before that, I need to know your exact age," Zhan Jing continued. There were records of this training method. Each of them would be different according to the age because the younger they were, the weaker their body's condition would be. There was some adjustment that they had to do.

"I'm eight years and six months old, um," Y ...

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“Don’t touch there, it’s dirty…” Su Yanyun flushes. The man smiles slightly and wipes the mud stains on her feet.

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Overnight, Young Master Yi changes from being a clean freak who is unable to even get close to his relatives to being desensitized and doting on this little woman of unknown origins.

“Hubby, the baby in my belly is calling you!”

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Wonder Woman: Why are you Superman’s younger brother? Eric replied: On the first day of travel, I, who was also a baby, climbed into Superman’s baby capsule, pushed him out, occupied the nest by myself, and became a “son of Krypton”.

Superman: Why don’t you save the plane? Eric replied: I will not lift things by stepping on the air.

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MTL - The Picked Lion Touched PorcelainChapter 67
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Shen Sui’an penetrated into a book of dog-blooded beauty and became the white moonlight of early death that four scumbags could not seek.
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Search keywords: Protagonist: Shen Sui’an ┃ Supporting role: Gu Beimo ┃ Others:
One sentence introduction: Eating melons and watching dramas, rua lions, cool!
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I am Racist.…I mean, my name is Racis T.I was a stand-up comedian. The flop kind. The type who only got laughs when someone else was roasting him.One night, I was doing a gig at a shady, run-down bar—the kind where tattooed bikers drink motor oil for breakfast. I went in with my usual dark humor, but my jokes were getting the same reaction as my dating profile: complete silence.That didn’t sit right with my inner artist, who was already starving to death. So I did what any committed comedian would—I went darker.Turns out, one of my jokes (or all of them?) triggered a guy so hard that he pulled a trigger. Headshot. Instant death.But hey, look at this: A guy got triggered, so he pulled the trigger. That’s wordplay. But who cares? I’m dead anyway.All I wanted was a successful show, people laughing, and maybe a few girls swooning over my wit. I never cared about money. The millions I’d have made would have gone to charity—specifically, 0.001% of it. See? I’m generous like that.Anyway, death is death. My story should’ve ended there.But… if there is an afterlife, I had a simple wish: become a successful comedian, find a loving wife, and have just enough money to afford three meals a day… and maybe a humble little private yacht. Or a jet. But that’s it. Because, like I said, I don’t care about money.Unfortunately, wishes don’t work that way.Because, well—there was an afterlife.And it was absolutely not what I wished for.