I’ve Led the Villain Astray, How Do I Fix It? - Chapter 10

What does it mean to be invincible?

Many Sword Gods exhaust their entire lives attempting to cultivate a single supreme sword intent, yet Yang Xiaotian has cultivated fifteen!

For millions of years, no one has been able to cultivate the Primordial Heaven Destiny, but Yang Xiaotian has cultivated fifteen of it!

Throughout countless eons, no one has been able to cultivate the Primordial Universe Holy Fruit, yet Yang Xiaotian has cultivated fifteen!

Across the vast expanse of time, only the rulers of heaven and earth could cultivate the Eternal Divine Body, yet Yang Xiaotian has cultivated not only the Eternal Divine Body but also the Primordial Heaven Destiny Divine Body, the Primordial Universe Divine Body...

For more R-18 lewd and depravities check out my Patreon https://www.patreon.com/YuujiEveryleafAn old man dies, torn by regret. Due to his high karma, he has “near-limitless possibilities for reincarnation”. He chooses to reincarnate in a fantasy world as a voluptuous futanari succubus with big tits and an irresistible smile.1st place winner of ScribbleHub's Metus Writing Contest.

This story is set during the end of the Sui Dynasty, a time where multiple powers struggled for supremacy and power.

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.