Fortunate Eighties: The Bewitching Female Rival Who Tamed Her Husband with Skill - Chapter 17 - Blast people

Ye Yun traveled to the Star Railway World and obtained the “Shop of All Worlds” system.Through this system, Ye Yun can sell items from across different worlds and invite guests from other realms to visit the Star Rail.His first encounter is with a space traveler named Stelle, and soon... many new experiences begin to unfold.Each time the shop's turnover reaches a certain amount, Ye Yun receives a reward from the system.

With peerless medical skills in one hand and unmatched Kung Fu in the other, bearing the memory of the Medical Divine, I dominate the city as the god it kneels to. I am here, so I decide your fate between life and death! I am here, so I am the heaven that dictates your destiny!

The empire encompassed endless twinkling stars, but in this dark and terrifying distant future, there were only endless wars.......Gu Hang became the governor of a wasteland planet, where previous governors had all been executed for failing to deliver the tithe on time.Monsters and Low Energy Storms rampaged, survivor factions schemed against each other, technological regression, low productivity, the resurgence of Evil Gods, Green Skin Orcs taking root and sprouting...“Don't panic just yet, let me check the panel below.”[Military Tokens], [Heroes], [Technology], [Events]...Starting as the planetary governor, he would build fleets that traversed the Star Sea, suppressing all alien forms, heretics, traitors, and demons of chaos!Although I formed battle groups on my own, funded Battle Nuns, diverted the imperial tax, and disregarded deployment orders... I knew I was fiercely loyal!Traitors? This is clearly the Third Empire!

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.