Moto Sekai Ichi'i no Sub-chara Ikusei Nikki - Chapter 59.7: Idle Talk - Teaching a Failure.

Working hard and living frugally, Wen Qian accidentally obtained Spatial abilities, followed by dreams about natural disasters. So instead of buying an apartment, she stocked up on supplies, changing from a city office worker into a countryside food blogger. Then, Wen Qian noticed that reports of disasters around the world were on the rise…

Dying and then meeting a giant God in the image of an Impostor from Among us in the afterlife was certainly something I didn't expect would happen.Getting reincarnated by it, was something I expected even less.And awakening in a world where heroes and villains run rampant, was certainly the cherry on top on this whole matter.But well, nothing I can do about it.

This was the great era of vast warships and the Star River, a time when the multi-universe was shattered and countless Cosmic Fragments were scattered across the void, forming the boundless Shattered Starry Sea.Immortal Domain Dao soldiers, mechanical gods, golden giants, wizard Dominators…An endless array of strange civilizations.Starry Sea Oddity, Genetic Potions, exoskeletal armors, Floating Land Origin…Treasures that could be found everywhere.Spectral Shuttle, Spectral Airship, Spectral Warship, Escort Ships, Battleships, Star-Annihilating Starships, hyperdimensional mother ships…The clearly stratified Xinhuo warships.Song Chi held a Zhu Tian Ruins Market in his hand and engaged in interstellar trade with the countless peoples of the Starry Sea.What? Titanium Crystals are worthless in your Star Domain? I’ll take them all, damn it, this is a strategic resource!You call this a chunk of iron? This is Mixed Elemental Copper, the ultimate Enhancement resource!Ordinary ship cannon? Isn’t this a golden Star-Annihilating Cannon? Quick… I’ll buy it!…Stretching across the stars, starting from the flame of human civilization.

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.