The Military Chef of a Ruined World - Chapter 96.2

Crossing the scene of domestic violence, Qiao Ji and Li remarry, and they are another litter of tigers and leopards. Han Qiao picks up a stick to beat the jackal.

She Wen Neng scolded from the street to the end of the street, and the street ruffian vixen who Wu Neng beat called her mother.

She opened shops, bought fields, bought houses, encouraged the hunter to forge ahead, and the three daughters raised all over the country.

Prosperity and wealth are in hand, and husband and wife are both in love. Who does not praise a good life in such a life!

Heng Yi, as an older youth, at the age of twenty-four, when Han Qiao smiled at him, he was moved and lost his soul.

What if she is a junior, holds a golden brick, and has been married before, he is still like a jewel like a treasure.

- Description from novelbuddy

It was only after Su Yayan's death that she realized that she was a malicious cannon fodder female character who became a scapegoat in a Mary Sue story.

As soon as Li Ye opened his eyes, he saw two three-meter-tall giants fighting each other.

“What sin did I do, I’m going to die just after transmigrating!!”

“Ding, feel that the host is in danger, activate the system, and reward the novice with a big gift package – 12 spell powers”

Since then, Marvel has added a superman who can fly, whose eyes can emit lasers, and who can…

“Hulk, from now on, I will be the strongest on Earth!”

“Thor, I lifted your hammer!”

“Ultra, it’s time to go back to the furnace and rebuild!”

“Hella, just because I beat you, doesn’t mean I want to marry you!”

“Purple Sweet Potato Essence, don’t run away! Don’t you snap your fingers?”

“Gwen, Wanda…we are all family”

- Description from novelbuddy

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.