MTL - The Alchemist God - Chapter 1241 Magic also has a way

Zhang Feng downloaded a game.The next second.A ferocious monster lunged at him.[Please choose your enhancement]1: Vision +0.12: Growth Constitution (Constitution +1 per hour)3: Fighting Memory————The main world has no magic, only my unique law.

In the eyes of outsiders, Yan Ruxu’s conditions are extremely good: good looks, high education, a high salary, and a high position, but there is a fatal flaw: she is divorced, with a three-year-old child. Yan Ruxu didn’t care what others thought of her, she just wanted to raise her son well and live her own life.

- Description from Novelupdates

Have you often come across a game where you start with a bonfire, surrounded by ice and snow, with resources all manually transported, and monsters attacking at any time...Xia Hong wakes up to find himself in such a world.The ice and snow rage on, beasts rule the land, civilization is lost, and all people and things that once existed have been invaded into powerful and bizarre entities, leaving humans as a humble race surviving in the shadow of winter, on the brink of extinction.Fortunately, Xia Hong possesses a camp system that can upgrade infinitely.[Small Bonfire]—[Iron Furnace]—[Solar Cauldron]...[Wooden Post]—[Training Ground]—[Martial Arts Hall]...[Bamboo Fence]—[Black Soil Wall]—[Iron Wall]...[Monument Stone]—[Notice Board]—[Hero's Monument]......As Xia Hong slays the beasts and exterminates the bizarre entities, gradually gathering humans, dispelling the winter, and opening up territory, the mysterious veil of this world is slowly unveiled in its entirety.

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.