The Return Of The God Level Assassin (WN) - Chapter 1142: INTRODUCING TEAM MOZU

Zhu Tong was born in a wealthy family, but the pampered young master suffered from a serious cleanliness addiction, and there were so many things that even God can’t stand it, so he was given a sickness and even coughed three mouthfuls of blood.

The day before his death, he was inexplicably bound to a system.

The system told him that he was actually a cannon fodder villain in a danmei novel who humiliated the heartthrob protagonist and suffered the consequences. If he wanted to survive, he had to find the only one in the novel, the white moonlight, who was not attracted to the protagonist and get full favorability from him.

In order to find him, Zhu Tong changed schools.

The new school was located in a remote small county with eight-person dormitories, a canteen for big pot meals, and only one public toilet in a teaching building.

Zhu Tong: In order to survive, he will endure!

- Description from Novelupdates

I thought I would live a better life in my second lifetime. Unbelievably, I’ve reincarnated into a slime that rolls around on the ground. Anyway, this is my precious new life, so I must work hard.

In every story, there exists the hero and the villain, the protagonist and the antagonist.And like every story, the hero always wins, and always gets the girl.But what happens now that I died and became a villain in the last book I read? Not even a proper villain, but one that the protagonist kills in the early chapters.I don't want to die again, and I don't want that simp of a protagonist to walk all over me. Maybe I should just become a better villain.I've always admired the smart badass villains that took on the protagonist. Maybe I can be one of them, maybe I can win—the first villain to win against the hero.I'll rewrite this story into one where I become the greatest villain. Call me sick or evil, but it's my time to shine.

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.