The Primarch of Liberty - Chapter 93: Angron

Chi Xiaochi: fourth-rate citizen at birth, three-time award-winning film emperor, second-rate temper, first-class looks. He crawled his way out of hell on hard mode to become a winner at life.

The Geng family announced to the upper-class society of Bing City that their adoptive daughter was not who they thought she was. They did this because she tried to become more successful by networking her way up. In the end, they kicked her out of the family.

The Geng family’s first daughter was multi-talented, gentle, and one of the most famous ladies in Bing City. On the other hand, their adoptive daughter, Wen Xin, was talentless, unsuccessful, and utterly inferior to their first daughter.

After leaving the Geng family, Wen Xin started on her new journey. She became a miracle doctor who helped Madam Mu in Jing City, a grand prize winner in a piano competition, a master-level composer, and the owner of the largest comprehensive laboratory of Physics and Biology…

Her multiple identities were revealed one after another, and news about her kept going viral. She was showing those who looked down on her that they had gotten her all wrong.

“Look! That’s the woman who wouldn’t leave my idol alone…”

“Sorry, but I’m already in a relationship!”

One day, her jealous significant other couldn’t take it anymore. He stopped acting cold and wrapped his arm around her waist.

“When are you going to announce who I am?” he asked in a soft voice while his gaze shifted downward.

……………………………………………………………

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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.

“Just once, I want to make it through the first stage of screening…”