Bitcoin Billionaire: I Regressed to Invest in the First Bitcoin! - Chapter 199: Archibald’s Deeds

Reincarnated into the Douluo Continent, inheriting the Emerald Scorpion Martial Soul, with no other options—what should you do if you’re forced to play with poison? Chen Ming declares: “If I’m going to play with poison, I’ll make sure to excel at it. As a transmigrator, even playing with poison, I’ll set an example worth following.”(Anti-Tang San, multiple female leads, no affiliation with the Spirit Hall, self-created divine position.)Raw Title: 斗罗：翡翠毒皇

From the depths of a deep and blissful slumber, Chu Yu awoke to the vague sense of someone beside her. Among four of five men that she saw sleeping around her when she awoke, one in particular, caught her eye.'Who is he?'With his unrivaled elegance and the air of supremacy around him, he gazed upon the princess and asked, “What's wrong, Princess? Did you have a nightmare?”And with that, an uncontrollable chill rose up her spine that made her shiver despite the warmth of the room.Is it a joke? Or is it destiny?

The “S-rank Hero Factory” that raised 1,000 S-rank heroes.

The graduates’ manufacturing machine.

The strongest support.

These are all words that refer to me. But could this actually be the world of that game?

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.