Starting With Contract Pets - Chapter 10 - Contract Book

The first time I realized that I ‘couldn’t die’ was during a practical training exercise in my third year as a hero cadet.A beast suddenly leaped out of the bushes and tore into my neck.‘How did I come back to life?’Yes, I came back to life. I didn’t die.And now, after hundreds, even thousands of years, I was still alive. Only I had survived.“But now… it’s finally over.”After wandering for millennia, I thought I could finally put an end to this long existence…“Dale! Dale Han! How dare you sleep during my class? You’ve got some nerve, don’t you?”“…Huh?”But what awaited me at the end of my long existence wasn’t a period, but a repeat sign.

A boy that was imprisoned for millions of years has regained a mortal body.

He became a disciple of the declining Cleansing Incense Ancient Sect where its patriarch used to be his disciple. Now he will bring this sect back to its former glory.

This is his journey to reach the apex and take revenge on those who had imprisoned him.

This is his story of meeting old friends and making new companions.

This is his path of traversing the Nine Worlds and becoming the next ruler of the Heavens.

Several milennias have passed and the golden age of experts have passed. A master whose disciples once were the most exalted Immortals among the 9 worlds have all left him. With his mortal body, mortal physique and mortal life wheel. . . he shall sweep the 9 worlds and take what is rightfully his.

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.

An internet troll who wanted attention, the reader criticized his favorite web novel, saying: “The protagonist is dumb and the author is stupid.”