Misguided practice of sinister cultivation techniques: Slander! The problem lies with you all, not me! - Chapter 375 - 244: Old Demon Duan with a Medical Practitioner’s Compassionate Heart (Subscription Request)_2

In the world of war games

Red Comet: “Amuro Ray, what kind of ability is it to bully recruits, come out and face me if you have the ability!”

Lin Youde shook his head: “What you’re looking for is Amuro Lei, what does it have to do with me, Li Abao?”

Go offline and return to the real world, to Konaku.

Lin Youde looked at the steel giant in Gnaku and couldn’t help sighing.

“Gundam is so handsome~!”

Correspondent: “Dr. Lin Youde, I have your sortie order.”

Lin Youde sighed: “Have it started again, stupid soul bound by gravity.”

Entering the cockpit of the red steel giant and opening the open door, Lin Youde said seriously.

“You guys, are you going to start a war again?”

“I just want to play games in peace!”

“Lin Youde, Gu Tie, attack!”

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The end is coming, and the world will perish!

An accident on a trip brought Zhou Jia to this world trapped in Jiuyou ahead of time, struggling to survive.

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The young lord of a small and weak country saves a dragon beside the sea one day.

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.