MTL - Gou Cultivates Immortals In the Chaotic World of Demons and Martial Arts - Chapter 407 Descend Boundary (seeking subscription)

Newly crowned Film Emperor Feng Jing; good looks, good stature, good acting, good character. Except he has one unshakeable rule—any night show he stars in cannot go past 12 o’clock. The media, with ulterior motives, chases after this little crazy secret of his. Yet remaining unconcerned about how the outside world falls into turbulent times, Film Emperor Feng still stands tall and unmoved.

Jiang Ran recently felt that her dog has become somewhat strange. Ordinarily when she kisses, hugs, and raises her dog up high, her dog would always be especially happy and lovable. Now whenever she kisses, hugs, and raises her dog up high, however, her dog was horny…

- Description from Novelupdates

Catastrophe erupted, it was the end of the world.

Survivors were surrounded by the impregnable wall, a new order was established…

The desire for power, faith, and darkness pervaded each other, layer upon layer of brands imprinted in every corner of the heart.

The virus wreaked havoc, were these humans’ true colors?

“I unexpectedly survive, I want to live.” –Du Dian

Following the death of his popular online persona, seventeen-year-old Suzuki Mato decides it's time to retire from professional VR gaming. However, his plans are abruptly cut short when he's kidnapped from his high school and forced to be a guinea pig for Genaco Gaming, the world's largest esports and entertainment company. Armed with nothing but his wit and a new online persona, he's thrown headfirst into the virtual reality of “Live No Evil,” a VRMMORPG littered with overpowered bosses, secretive NPCs, and backstabbing gods. His mission? Find a way to conquer this new world and get back at the company that took over his life, all while avoiding 'Parallel' -- a condition that would make it impossible to separate his real and virtual personalities. Because in a world obsessed with VR gaming, Parallel means death, and Suzuki just doesn't have time for that...

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.