Getting a Technology System in Modern Day - Chapter 416 Economic Shockwaves

[Warning: The title might be named this way, but we’re actually NOT on hiatus.]I’m a third-rate writer, Yu Il-Shin.So don’t think that I’m actually a god; it’s just a name.One day, I experienced the much-anticipated awakening, but my newfound skill was… kinda weird?…In the small world connected through my mobile phone where the little, weak ants were getting killed regarded me as their god?

Reborn in a world where martial arts reign supreme, Li Qian becomes a menial disciple of the Divine Sword Sect, assigned as the bell ringer.When ringing the bell, the sacrificial weapon system accidentally awakens, binding his life to the bell as his life-bound sacrificial weapon. As long as he rings the bell, he can enhance the sacrificial weapon.Moreover, the sacrificial weapon has one crucial characteristic.As long as the bell remains unbroken, the host is immortal.From then on, a path of eternal martial arts unfolds before Li Qian....Many years later, when the Divine Sword Sect faces a crisis of extermination, countless disciples kneel before the bell platform.“We beseech the ancestor to take action.”

Like most candidates, Zlatan's dream was a simple one. To pass the hunter's test, join a guild, hunt monsters and reach the A-class.Eventually, as he dreamed of, he achieved it hundreds of years later. Having sacrificed more than he could take in, using the most unthinkable and brutal measures, he became an S-class Hunter instead.Obtaining the Copper Flame back then after the Aura Awakening Ritual, that was his greatest flaw. Taking a span of 80 years to reach a D-class. Still, Zlatan Elmore became the most powerful hunter to exist.Falling on the battlefield against a Two-horned Dragon, he suddenly awoke as his 30 year old self. Given another chance at life, he didn't only have his memories but he's also given a Blank Scroll. This mysterious scroll doesn't only speak, its omniscient!

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.