Misty World: Start with SSS skill - Chapter 383 Where Is The Gate?

[Linguistics Skill: Lv0 (7/10)] [Apothecary Skill: Lv1 (15/100)] [Knight Breathing Skill: Lv2 (36/200)] [Knight Breathing Skill Experience Point +1] ------ In the year 3077 of the Berta calendar, during the era of confusion before wizards had reached the throne, he brought them ’Straight A Student Panel.’ He stepped into the sorcerer world, perfected sorcerer knowledge, like a bright moon dispelling the mists of the era. He was Ivan Marichardon, a pioneer of knowledge, he blazed trails for the way of the sorcerer.

If Ke Xun could do it again, he would have never left his house to go out and flirt with guys, even if it would mean getting beaten to death.

Weren’t they supposed to have just been taking shelter from the rain in a museum and looking at some erot*c paintings while they were at it? Why…did they enter the world inside a painting?!

Mu Yiran: Every single one of us is acting out a role in the painting.

Ke Xun’s eyes lit up: How do we get into an erot*c painting?

Mu Yiran gave him a long, drawn-out look: Shut your eyes and lie down.

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With the rising power of humans, who can come close to being a Blessed? Deriving their powers straight from the Gods, the Blessed are the forerunners of humanity, super humans with peak mortal prowess, ruling all over mankind from the shadows.

Waking up to find himself reincarnated back as his 21-year-old self, Alexander Gray finds an alternate path to life, one that transcends beyond the way of the Blessed and touches upon the infinite untapped human potential.

Follow the mortal Alexander Gray, as he walks a path exclusive to himself, journeying to find immortality and godhood. All the while being surrounded by gods themselves, aka, his wives.

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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.