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... or Avenue went to resurrection, swallowing the ancient and modern future, and began to present itself, as if sheltering the group, the Avenue issued a warning sound, just like announcing his people!

In the direction of Immortal Realm, the three emperors of the unity suddenly turned up and down, rolling down the order of the law, sweeping the environment of Immortal Realm, and countering the supreme power of the Heavenly Emperor.

Some existences are too terrible. Once awakened, the ...

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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.

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Jiang Yun died in his original world, and his spirit traveled to a cultivation world as the Holy Son of the Sacred Land of Mist. However, his new body was severely injured from being attacked by demonic cultivators and having his Sacred Bones stolen.As he was in despair, a voice from a System, known as the Villain System, sounded. Initially, he was shocked because of his experiences, which seemed like the destiny of a protagonist. However, when he discovered that his junior disciple was the true Son of Destiny and had stolen his Sacred Bones, hiding them, and was a spy for the Demonic Sect, Jiang Yun realized he was being framed. The junior disciple created false accusations against him, causing other disciples to dislike and reject him, including senior and junior disciples who shared the same master.Without hesitation, Jiang Yun decided to become the Villain. He planned for survival, gathered resources, amassed forces, and acquired subordinates. Eventually, his master decided to remove him from his position as Holy Son. He then chose to leave the Sacred Land. When he encountered an Emperor Spirit, he learned that the world was about to undergo a dramatic change in the near future. Thus, he established a Sacred Land for those who were despised and abandoned by heaven, or for those who shared his ideals.

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The Peng Society for Gentlemen — a secret friend-making club for the homosexual men of the Great Xia Dynasty. Its services were designed to help its members along in their quest for their lifelong partners. Upon paying a monthly fee of fifty coins, members could get themselves listed in The Pengornisseur after providing a self-portrait, a mailing address, their age and hobbies, as well as a self-introduction. All members would receive a copy of the monthly publication, and they could communicate with one another in private using the information in The Pengornisseur.

Wu Xingzi, a bachelor about to turn forty, worked as the adviser to the magistrate in Qingcheng County.

Qingcheng County was a place with barely any resources. In other words, it was poor. In the list of counties of the Great Xia Dynasty, it had been ranked at the bottom for the past two hundred years.

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He might as well die.

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