The Laws of Cultivation: Qi = MC^2 - Chapter [B4] 19 — Push Back

Strange not only becomes the Sorcerer Supreme after being reborn and possessing that body, but he also forms unexpected bonds with the Avengers, takes part in epic battles, and manipulates time and reality to prevent critical alterations in the timeline. However, despite his power and wisdom, his life is constantly interrupted by duty, leaving him no time to enjoy the youth he longs for.Just when he thinks he has gained complete control, in his sacrifice for the world, he is reincarnated again—this time in the Harry Potter universe, where he is reborn as Stephen Flamel, the adoptive grandson of the legendary Nicolas and Perenelle Flamel. Now, with a second chance to enjoy his childhood, Stephen embarks on a new adventure in a world full of magic.Notice: It contains yuri from a secondary character who shares prominence with the main character in later chapters.And no, it is not NTR. No problem.English version of my main work. On my Patreon I will upload the translations every day until I reach one chapter a day. I will post 5 chapters in advance on patreon. You can also watch the chapters of the Spanish version, and maybe you can use a translator. Remember that the worlds where the story takes place are not mine, they belong to their respective owners, only this story is mine.I'm not very good at English, so I have to use the help of ChatGPT for corrections. Please be patient.

She was a peerless genius in the 24th Century – all she needed was a silver needle and she could practically bring anyone back from the dead.

The protracted ’witch hunting’ had faded into silence with the end of the Seven Years’ War, and the mysteries of the East Coast had begun to conceal themselves, yet gunpowder was on a rapid rise. Mo Qishang, who should have been utterly confounded, stood at the crossroads of destiny in the name of Arthur. He stared in astonishment at the charging knights, the wizards atop the high towers, and the bizarre wilderness. He felt the sharpness of the longsword and the recoil of the firearm, both clear and unfamiliar. At last, he excitedly shook his robe and, with a smile on his face, said— “Do not believe what I say, for to believe is to exist!”

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.