MTL - Mission Flow - v2 Chapter 328 journey

10 years searching for his lost sibling.

Shu Wan, the most outstanding daughter of a high-status family from a feudal dynasty, travels a thousand years into the future, becoming the new lady of the Fu family in the capital.------Her husband in name has gone overseas to explore markets, leaving behind a rebellious son whose name resounds throughout the capital.------Upon first meeting, the rebellious son speeds past on a motorcycle with his silver-white hair flying, “Isn't that my stepmother who's 6 years older than me? Skinny arms and legs, but with grand ambitions.”Before he finishes, Shu Wan leaps up and plucks him off the motorcycle with one hand, “Watch your mouth.”------Fu Yang is consistently at the bottom of his grade, especially with his Chinese language scores never passing 50.Shocked by his atrociously written exam papers, Shu Wan asks, “Are you even Chinese?”Fu Yang is defiant, “Aren't you a dimwitted academic failure yourself, what right do you have to criticize me?”Yet the next second, as Shu Wan smoothly writes down 'Ancient Prose Paragon' with a brush, it's Fu Yang's turn to be astonished.Isn't she a walking dictionary?------Fu Siyu returns from his overseas expansion earlier than expected, thinking he would come home to chaos.However, upon entering the door, he sees the usually defiant Fu Yang sitting obediently practicing his calligraphy with a perfect score exam paper beside him.And his reputedly timid wife, in a sleek black high-slit dress, confidently struts to the music, drawing the attention of everyone.But none of that is the focal point. The focus is on Fu Siyu's gaze, sharp as a knife, directed toward the dance partner's hand resting on Shu Wan's lower back, “Let go.”Note: The son is not the biological child of the male lead.

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.

The Red Dragon came from the vast wild wastes, coveting all the strength in the world. It once had countless titles: Mountain's Wrathful Flame, Infernal Calamity, Crimson Emperor, Ashen Dragon......The world trembled under the shadow of the giant dragons. He stirred up the craze of the magic industrial revolution; in the empire he established, Wyverns roared, artillery fired in unison, and steel beasts appeared in the sky and on the land, while disasters from another world rampaged everywhere.“Submit, or die.”Cassius spread his wings, blotting out the sun, and gazed down at the trembling humans, elves, and dwarves below, saying thus.......It is a story about a Red Dragon with a player template conquering, ruling, and transforming an alternate world.(Pseudo of DnD, The Fourth Calamity, Red Dragon)