Becoming a God Starts with Acting - Chapter 183: [Blizzard Manor] - Prophet’s part (30)

No NTR-IncestA Boy struggles with the problems of being raised in a family full of lewd older women.

Xuan Qing discovered a cultivation game on his phone that couldn't be uninstalled. When he clicked on it out of curiosity, he was astonished to find that the treasures and cultivation of characters in the game could be brought back to the real world.

PS: The male lead is the only extraordinary person on Earth, without brainless show-off and face-slapping plots.

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“Take it off.” In less than two minutes, he ripped off my short skirt and pinned me down on the bed. To get an Alpha to agree to collaborate with my father's company, I, as the bargaining chip, slept with this cold and ruthless Alpha. I thought that night would be the end of our encounter, but later on, I was forced to become his breeder. As time passed, I unexpectedly developed other expectations for him. Freedom was my only hope. However, I then learned that once I gave birth to the child, he would kill me. So I fled. When we met again, I was no longer the timid girl I used to be. I had become stronger and more beautiful. He regretted it and pleaded, “Don't go, Tori!”Bye, My Ruthless Alpha is created by Cynthia Lance, an eGlobal Creative Publishing signed author.

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.