Beginning with the Ubume Bird - Chapter 365 - 2 Who is Cao Yongchang

What is the experience like after transmigrating into the novel’s foreordained miserable cannon fodder?

Su Zui, who had only ever treated other people as cannon fodder, expresses——

Your father is still your father.

Winning just by laying down, system silently gave his family’s host a call: Papa 666.

Boss: Be good. A single parent family isn’t good for the child. Call me papa number two.

System: ???

Even though the roles assigned are all definitely touching and inevitably miserable cannon fodder, this does not hinder Su Zui’s path on oppressing main leads to the point they question their life.

- Description from Novelupdates

The world dare to ask, what is God of War?

“It is with the flesh dominates the world, fists burst into the starry sky, palms crack the sky, destroy all the way, push the eight wastes and Liuhe horizontally!”

“It is with a brave heart, passing by the bustling, swallowing loneliness, fearless and invincible, eternal immobility alone!”

For both, for… God of War!

This is a young man with a mysterious life experience. In order to obsessively in his heart, he crossed the heavens and the world, traveled all over the world, with a pair of bare-handed stories that tear thousands of legends… The rise of the God of War, all the way!

- Description from MTL

Lives are a currency, and Noah Vines is rich.Reincarnated into the body of a poisoned magic school professor, Noah is given more than just a second chance at life. Every time he dies, his body reforms. With infinite variations of runic magic to discover and with death as a painful soul wound rather than a final end, Noah finally has a chance to wander the lands of the living once again. And this time, he plans to get strong enough to make sure that he never has to wait around in the afterlife again.

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.