MTL - I Became the Cannon Fodder In the Novels of Female Cultivators - Chapter 318 I am far from the fairy

Nine heavens and nine earths, there are many souls.

The strong stand in the nine heavens, like shining stars, while the weak creep on the ground like tiny ants.

The young boy Bai Ye accidentally unlocked the mysterious heavenly soul, cultivated supreme soul skills, guarded the soul and sword, rushed into the nine heavens and swept the stars, and the legend began…

- Description from MTL

The tale of Oliver.
An orphan boy from a Mine, in 19th century Europe, filled with Magic.

A lonely soul, which was placed under the care of the Lord Protector’s Manor, ended up having her lover stolen by the family’s eldest daughter and dying tragically the day before her wedding.

Somehow, she was reborn in the family as their 14-year-old first wife’s daughter, Ning Xueyan, with a startlingly familiar face.

Step by step, she will ruthlessly scheme to seek revenge as well as uncover the mystery of her tragic death.

Her former fiancee, the flirty crown prince and the bloodthirsty prince, will now bear witness to a vengeful Ning Xueyan becoming the peerless lady of her generation…

- Description from Novelupdates

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.