MTL - Mini World Of Endless Fun Awaits - Chapter 22 Yu Kuangtu

In the end of the world, the fittest survive.

Come back from rebirth, seize the opportunity, just want to survive in the hopeless end times.

Three months before Mu Nan returned to the apocalypse, he sold all his savings to accumulate supplies, hoarded everything he could hoard like a hamster, and then huddled in his own house and lived a low-key life, carefully waiting for the apocalypse to come step by step…

- Description from Novelupdates

Konoha’s blue beast: “I want to prove that even if you don’t know ninjutsu or illusion, you can become an excellent ninja. This is the whole of my life. This is my way of ninja!”

The Roaring Emperor of Clover*: “I want to prove to everyone that no matter whether you are a poor ghost or an outcast, you can achieve great things!”

Hao Fan: “If there is any relationship between these two other than being equally inspirational, it is that my buddies were unlucky enough to transmigrate and become Rock Lee first. Because of physical defects, they couldn’t control Zach to perform ninjutsu, and then protested to the system. Afterwards, he transmigrated into Asta who couldn’t use magic…”

- Description from novelbuddy

Lin Xing has the ability to turn back time.Whenever he faces a life-threatening danger, he would return to the past.He falls to his death, and returns 5 seconds earlier.He is killed by a falling object, and returns 1 minute earlier.He is struck down by a dump truck, and returns 20 minutes earlier.Then one day... he finds himself having returned to one year ago.

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.