Rise To Stardom - Chapter 176: Step By Step

This game has two choices: become a reincarnated hero in another world or receive a duty as a god who guides such people. A man chooses the latter and becomes Raymund, the god of hope. He was tasked to send heroes to grant people's prayers in the mortal world.

After his heroes complete various missions, Raymund can choose a new one from the afterlife. That means he can make a harem of badass women!

A gorgeous formidable warrior? A cute loli wizard? A sexy ninja, maybe? Or perhaps a lovely woman with a unique job class? The possibilities are endless.

However, getting his heroines to complete missions is no easy feat. Raymund still had to think hard and make the right decisions.

So, will Raymund and his women be able to answer those prayers?

Lin Yuan traversed to an urban romance novel. His identity is a Gao Fushuai and he is also a villain. Fortunately, he can make choices to get corresponding rewards. Note- Gao Fushuai means tall, rich, and handsome (Mr.Perfect).

Ruel finds himself thrust into a brutal post-apocalyptic world, bound to a bizarre “Milf System.” This system demands morally questionable acts – NTR, seducing milfs, and claiming other men's wives – as the sole means of gaining strength and essential survival skills.The brutal reality of this new world awakens Ruel's hidden lust and dark desires. He swiftly abandons any semblance of morality, embracing the system's perverse demands with growing fervor.Driven by an insatiable hunger for power and pleasure, Ruel revels in the ravages he inflicts, using his newfound abilities to dominate and conquer.His journey transforms him into a ruthless force, where survival is intertwined with the satisfaction of his darkest urges, leaving a trail of broken relationships and conquered women in his wake.

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.