Apotheosis – Ascension to Godhood - Chapter 4 (2)

The once greatest Saint underneath the heavens has been reborn after one hundred years. He cultivates with mighty skills, and he fights to once again reach the top of the world!

Don’t compete with me when it comes to concocting pills, 100% effectiveness means nothing to me.

Don’t compete with me when it comes to cultivation speed, I won’t be responsible when you die from embarrassment.

Don’t compete with me when it comes to experience, as I’m an ancient ancestor.

The existence of Jiang Chen is destined to ridicule thousands of geniuses…

In 1919, Donnie's soul traversed into the United States.To start off, Donnie, just a soldier who had recently stepped down from the battlefields of World War I, was framed by his superior. Before the Prohibition era began, he took over a bar in Atlantic City. With the perspective of a transmigrator and ruthless tactics, he gradually became the largest bootlegger in America.In the roaring twenties, Donnie delved into bootlegging, ran beauty pageants, built his career, and stormed Wall Street.Decades later, when people studied modern American history, they found that the name 'Donnie Block' was one they simply could not ignore!!!Additional Tags: ACTION, TRANSMIGRATION, GENIUS, KINGDOMBUILDING, URBAN, SHOWBIZ, POORTORICH

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.