Apocalypse Cheater - Chapter 232: A Borrowed Fate

Emperor Zi Yu used 5 strikes of his axe to split mountains and unify everyone underneath the heavens. He partitioned the land into 9 areas, thus establishing the Nine Cauldrons which eventually became known as the 9 prefectures.

The first time they met on a blind date, Ji Sang agreed to Fu Yisi's proposal to get married.The second time they met, they tied the knot at the civil affairs bureau.The third time they met, just back in the country, Ji Sang looked at the man who came to pick her up and decided she wanted him to be her model.Ji Sang thought her husband, whom she married through an arranged marriage, was a gentleman on the outside but cold and indifferent on the inside.But unexpectedly, the man turned out to be so sultry and scheming!Fu Yisi: 'Do you like jawlines, hmm?Fu Yisi: 'Want to touch?'Fu Yisi: 'Am I good enough? You can check yourself.'Ji Sang is a giant in thought but a dwarf in action, rendered powerless by his teasing. She imagined it countless times until one day after an argument between them, Dr. Fu leisurely took off his shirt.'Didn't you want to shoot me? I'll let you shoot to your heart's content.'A socially anxious and aloof photographer x A cold-faced, quiet, sharp-tongued but kind-hearted Dr. Fu.

Reincarnating into another world without having to start from the bottom was certainly a good thing.

However, what if the first place you appear is inside a coffin?

This is what Qin Yuan experienced.

While he had boundless strength, he was already at the end of his age so he had to seal his body.

The only thing he could do was to leave with a Spiritual Body whose strength was extremely limited.

The good thing is that there is a system that suddenly appears.

Ding

[Collect Karma Points.]

[You can buy anything with Karma Points.]

[Use 100 Karma Points to purchase a one week life extension.]
...

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.