MTL - Who Told Him To Cultivate Immortality! - Chapter 90 It is not recommended for monks to come to the barbecue restaurant to eat

Accidentally, Ye Xiaochen became new generation of Heavenly Farmer (Shen Nong), the treasure in the eyes of deities of three realms.

Moon fairy’s rabbit eats only the carrots grown from his farm.

The heavenly troop which was formed from the magical beans, came out from his farm.

The ninth level elixir which was just released, he supplied the materials for it.

Ye Xiaochen’s goal is to become the overlord of agriculture, not only in earth but also in whole three realms.

I want the heavens to use agricultural products that I plant, I want all the sentient beings in three realms to eat food made from my vegetables, I want all the gods to give up the idea of only swallowing air and eat meals three times in a day just like a normal person.

- Description from Novelupdates

The unparalleled Pill Emperor is reborn into another life, practicing unique cultivation techniques and refining pills that others cannot. Occasionally, he would offer advice to those so-called masters of pill dao, while casually recruiting a few talented disciples to follow him.“Want a cultivation technique? No problem!”“Need a pill? No problem!”“The real question is, have you hung out with me?”In this life, Mo Wangchen is destined to reach the pinnacle once more, to dominate with his pills and reverse the heavens with his martial prowess!

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.