Weapon seller in the world of magic - Chapter 597: A mysterious savior with name, "Allen?"

Interview (YGZ – Father, ZZ – Mother, ZW – Son)

1. What is something you carry everywhere with you?

YGZ: A gun.

ZZ: I prefer being indoors, specifically inside a lab.

ZW: Anything that has access to the internet.

2. What is your favorite hobby?

YGZ: Shooting.

ZZ: Experimenting.

ZW: Hacking.

3. What is your worst fear?

YGZ: My wife’s cooking.

ZZ: My lab burning.

ZW: No access to the internet.

4. What is your spirit animal and why?

YGZ: A Bigfoot – has hands to hold a gun.

ZZ: An eagle – has good vision, useful for observing.

ZW: A Spider – can spin a web.

5. What is your biggest regret?

YGZ: Letting my wife escape after our first night.

ZZ: My son being a genius. I chose YGZ to be the father of my child because I thought he was a limbo.

ZW: Not reuniting my parents sooner.

The 13th disciple of the Great Mount Hua Sect. One of the Greatest Third-Generation Swordsmen. The Plum Blossom Sword Master, Chungmyung.

After slicing the head of the peerless Heavenly Demon, who threw the world into chaos, he slept an eternal sleep on the peak of the Hundred Thousand Great Mountains. Jumping over a hundred years, he comes back in the body of a child.

But… what? Mount Hua declined? What the hell are you talking about!?

It’s only natural to want to live if you’re going broke.

“Decline? Even though I’m here? Who would dare!”

Plum blossoms eventually fall.

But when the cold winter passes and spring comes, plum blossoms shall bloom again.

“But I’m gonna die first before Mount Hua gets revived! If you’re gonna go bust, might as well do it right, you bastards!”

The beginning of the Plum Blossom Sword Master, Chungmyung’s solitary struggle to save the thoroughly declining Mount Hua Sect.

In the waves of steam and machinery, who could achieve extraordinary? In the fogs of history and darkness, who was whispering? I woke up from the realm of mysteries and opened my eyes to the world.

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.