The Frozen Player Returns - Chapter 560: The Magician and the Thorns (1)

An internet troll who wanted attention, the reader criticized his favorite web novel, saying: “The protagonist is dumb and the author is stupid.”

Wake up and an unknown door has appeared in your home… Behind each door is a completely unfamiliar world.In the nightmare world, Jiang Cheng relays the news from the Hunk to the Fatty, adding his own spin to the story.The Fatty almost cried in fear hearing it.“My whole family will be strung upside down for blood-letting if I die here?”“That’s what I heard.”“Then, how come you don’t look scared at all?” The fatty widened his eyes.Jiang Cheng turned around and replied in a very formal tone, “Because I’m an orphan.”

“This twisted world needs to be reset. That's what V2 is for!”-------------------------------------------------------------Waking up only to find that she's reincarnated into a world very reminiscing of a game that she used to play, Yuki is suddenly thrust into a worldwide conflict. To ensure the longevity of her newfound motherland, Yuki will have no choice but to flip this war upside down. If only to finally has some closure for past life also.So buckle up, strap your helmet tight, and keep your rifle loaded and on safe. This is not your bog-standard story about overpowered characters on a battlefield, no. This is a story about warfare in all its bloodied glory, the leader that calls the shot, the soldiers that execute them, and the nation that's backing them up. And along the way, sprinkle those a healthy dose of beautiful maidens, lily/futa romances, and build a harem.This is not gonna be a quick and decisive run, no. We're in this one for the long haul. Hail, Ironblood!

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.