Healing System - Chapter 212 Trial of the Golden Dragon Sect (16)

Getting the [Boosted Gear] is expected for Issei. What if he gained it a month early and another one as well? Let the Games Begin... IsseiXHarem (if it wasn't, it wouldn't be DXD). Now has a TVTropes page! Getting the [Boosted Gear] is expected for Issei. What if he gained it a month early and another one as well? Let the Games Begin... IsseiXHarem (if it wasn't, it wouldn't be DXD). Now has a TVTropes page!

A 20-year-old genius medical student transmigrated to a book she read during an experiment and became a female supporting character named Mo Li.

A man who was locked up to cultivate immortality finally achieved it, becoming immortal and reaching the very peak of existence.But to achieve immortality, he was forced to give up one thing he loved the most, and that was sex. He was a man whore before he was set on the path to cultivating immortality. He could seduce any woman during his time as a mortal.But now that he has achieved immortality and has omnipotent, he wants to go back to his old ways, finding pleasure in tasting different types of women.______________________A/N - This WN is focused on sex, there is a story but it is very slow, MC's focus will be on women since this is a sex story, as for the plot, it really doesn't matter, being omnipotent means no matter what the antagonists do, it is useless, but there will be something to look into when it comes to the plot as I don't want to make it boring to you readers.WARNING.This novel consists of extreme sexual content, for example, hardcore BDSM, sharing, public display, gang bang, corruption, manipulation, and every other kink that I want to put in.If you are uncomfortable with any of the following, do not read.

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.