MTL - Fanatic Divine Cultivator - Chapter 632 Thank you beauties ~ 2 more! For flowers!

Lu Chen had a dream, an incredibly long dream.. The dream world was familiar yet at the same time unfamiliar. Singer, actor, freelance writer, he actually went through three sections of different lives in a dream world! When he woke up, Lu Chen thus embarked on a bright road of becoming a perfect superstar!

I, the protagonist, was just an ordinary NEET, but suddenly I was reincarnated as a tiny white snake in a fantasy world where legendary creatures and gods exist. Not only that, but I awakened in a cave as the offspring of a terrifying Medusa Serpent.Armed with only my human knowledge and my indomitable mental strength, I'm forced to use cunning tactics and rapidly evolving skills to survive against far stronger monsters and humans... So begins the survival story of a former shut-in with incredible willpower, living as one of the lowest-ranked beasts in a world of magic!ᆖMusic suddenly started playing in my head.I'd been waiting for this moment for so long.'Snakes! Assemble'....

Pretending to be Jiang Lai’s boyfriend to meet her parents, but was given a house and a car by routine, and she wanted to do the fake show for real?

Never expected to encounter a gun battle, a close call, awakening the infinite inheritance system.

[A set of courtyard houses at the foot of the imperial city, is it inherited? 】

[LV5 pistol arc shooting, is it inherited? 】

[Bajiquan Grandmaster, do you want to inherit? 】

National martial arts and marksmanship, language and musical instruments, culinary and acting skills, high-rise buildings, island territories, everything can be inherited.

Slowly, Qin Yan discovered that he had actually traveled to a world where film, television and drama merged.

A Xiang, Carambola, Gao Wen, Andy, Shi Miao, each heroine appeared on the stage, starting a domineering life.

- Description from novelbuddy

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.