Fantasy: I! Accept disciples and become stronger! - Chapter 550

There were women approaching me, who had decided to die.

She thought she was dead but she woke up inside a novel – to an extra who will die a year later.Not wanting to die like this, Alexa decided to tame the male protagonist in the form of a dog. Two years from now, the male lead will return to his human form. In the meantime, she was thinking of leaving the Grand Duchy after receiving the right pay for doing them a favour.The problem is that when the male lead returns to his human form, he forgot all his memories.“You have to remember me, okay? There’s no point in looking so cute. Promise me!”She told him many times because she didn’t want to mistakenly die by the male lead’s hands, who became a villain.But,“You told me to remember, so I remembered everything. Alexa.”Ysildus unbuttoned his jacket.“If there’s no other way to return that favour then I have to pay it with my body.”A cute puppy that grew up into a weird wolf.Damn, what did I raise?

Standing before you is the Quicklime Martial Saint, the founder of the Taiyang Fist, the Flower Folding Master of Dinghu, Half-step Master Invincible Under Heaven, the First Sword of Xuanmen, the Judicial God, and Taiyi....After the end of the Dharma, a time of grand corruption descends, the world devoid of spiritual essence, and the system of Dao fruits takes precedence.Embracing Dao fruits, ascending step by step, thereby possessing the power of gods and saints, transcending the ordinary to achieve holiness.'Just like this,' Jiang Li said while summoning a dog, 'Heavenly Dog, bite him.'

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.