Amongst Cultivators, I Stand Above All - Chapter 491 - You Know My Brother?

Lu Qingze, a people’s teacher, once transmigrated into a book and became an unfortunate imperial teacher.

Surrounded by wolves, either defect to the prime minister who has power over the government, or cultivate the young emperor into a generation of emperors through the ages.

Out of professional habit, Lu Qingze chose the latter.

No one is in awe of Lu Qingze, the emperor’s teacher who raised the young emperor with one hand. He has countless supporters of the imperial teacher. It is rumored that Lu Qingze has an ugly face, so he always wears a silver mask, lives in a secluded place, and rarely shows himself in front of others.

Only the young emperor knew what kind of pure and beautiful face lay beneath that mask.

After solving the trouble, Lu Qingze realized with hindsight that he raised the little cub to be a large wolf , and now the common enemy is gone, the little emperor started to move the people around him, and the next person who wants to fall to the ground is He; and now that the rabbits are dead, the dogs must be cooked!

- Description from Novelupdates

After retiring from the special forces, Ye Tian is hired by a beautiful boss as her personal bodyguard, leading to a colorful and adventurous life for him...

A door unfolded before him.Evil thrived, and whispers spilled from within.The resentful compound eyes flickered and vanished, the presence longing to burst out was blocked inside, and the alluring murmurs echoed in the ear.The sticky, pink brain mumbled something. A figure cloaked in a yellow robe watched from a distance. A dark green presence, smelling of blood, roared. A string of wondrous soap bubbles released friendliness—and many, many guests.They sincerely invited Lu Li to join this mad party.Lu Li stepped in, his stride resolute and unwavering.He had no reason to refuse.

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.