Cultivation: I Can Add Descriptors To My Body - Chapter 154 - : Illusion Jade Slip

Konoha’s blue beast: “I want to prove that even if you don’t know ninjutsu or illusion, you can become an excellent ninja. This is the whole of my life. This is my way of ninja!”

The Roaring Emperor of Clover*: “I want to prove to everyone that no matter whether you are a poor ghost or an outcast, you can achieve great things!”

Hao Fan: “If there is any relationship between these two other than being equally inspirational, it is that my buddies were unlucky enough to transmigrate and become Rock Lee first. Because of physical defects, they couldn’t control Zach to perform ninjutsu, and then protested to the system. Afterwards, he transmigrated into Asta who couldn’t use magic…”

- Description from novelbuddy

Kyle woke up in a land of fantasy and magitech. The usual 'I died and woke up' bullshit, skip all that.

Except he used to be a crime lord, and society here is missing that extra kick.

Perfectly average.

That’s how I would describe myself.

I spent most of my life being just that.

Average test scores with mostly C’s and B’s, average athletic abilities, average appearance, average social life, and average family background.

I wanted to be different, that's why I decided to be a pornstar.

dunno but somehow I awakened the ultimate pornstar system-

will I really be able to become the greatest pornstar?

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.