Infernal Hero - Chapter 864 Demon God Killing Wheel

Shu Shi has been the villain in the book from time to time and had to play by the plot in order to become the protagonist in another book.

According to the plot, he must eventually die under the heroine’s sword.

When he was about to die, Zhan Qingchen stood up with her sword and asked him what his last words were.

Looking at the indifferent beautiful face, Shu Shi, who was lying in a pool of blood, was timid.

He pulled Zhan Qingchen down hard and gave her a forced kiss!

“This is the last time we meet anyway!”

Shu Shi closed his eyes in satisfaction.

Zhan Qingchen hated men so much and now her chastity had been taken away! This kiss was the best revenge for his nemesis!

After this he would be reincarnated and become the real ‘Favored son of heavens!’

But what Shu Shi did not expect was that Zhan Qingchen actually used the treasure to save him from the gates of death!

Now that they were sitting in silence, the atmosphere had become extremely awkward.

Zhan Qingchen: “Explain, why did you kiss me?”

Su Shi: “…”

[Warning: Mature Content 18+, Harem, No NTR!]He was only ten years old when his world turned to ash. Hidden behind a door, shivering with helplessness and fear, the boy peered through the keyhole and watched his parents die. He never knew who killed them. He never even saw the faces of those who took everything from him.The terror was too much for a ten-year old boy. His mind shattered, erasing that night from his memory. And then everything was blank, darkness in front of his eyes as he lost consciousness.When his eyes opened again, a man stood before him, a stranger with a gentle smile and eyes filled with something strange… pity? Or something else?“What happened here boy?”“Happened where?”“You don’t remember, do you?”“Remember what…? Where is father? My Mother?”“I guess this is for the best.”“Good boy. Your father was my dearest friend… and now, you are my responsibility. From now on, you will be my son.”“You have no one left, boy… but I can make sure no one ever takes anything from you again.” The man said gently.And then that man forged him into something inhuman. A weapon honed to perfection, a shadow lurking in the underworld. The mere whisper of his name - Draugr, A ghost that never truly dies, sent grown men into cold sweats, their legs trembling beneath them.The boy soon outgrew his master and carved his own legend in blood. But all this while he never stopped searching—for the ones who killed his parents, for the truth, for revenge.And finally, after fifteen years of silence, he was close. The last clue he needed was just within his grasp.It was so close, yet just an inch out of his grasp. He was ambushed, a trap he never saw coming.Wounded, bleeding out, fighting for his life against an army of men and women eyeing to claim his life, he should have died. But fate had something else stored for him.Barely holding onto life, he stumbled into a girl—fragile-looking, yet completely unafraid of the monster before her. She didn’t run. She didn’t scream. Instead, she smiled.She saved him. Took him to a hospital. And as he lay unconscious, she made her plans.But when he woke up… He had lost everything, He remembered nothing.Not just the truth of his parents' murder. Not just the years of searching. Not just the enemies and allies he'd made along the way. Not even his own name.Twenty-five years of his life—wiped clean.Now, in a world that fears his very name, with ghosts of a past he can no longer remember hunting him in the shadows—he must decide: Is he still the Draugr they all fear? Or is he just a man searching for the pieces of himself?And who is the girl who stole his fate and bound it to hers?

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.

I was not a perfect person, not an easy teammate to get along with, and I could not even be considered a good person at all.However, no one in this world could deny that I was the greatest basketball player, not even God!