MTL - Peerless Battle Spirit - Chapter 49 God of War

Song Zhong’s parents were the geniuses of the sect. But they were apparently killed while on a mission when he was barely 6. As he apparently did not excel in any of the 5 elements, in fact, all 5 elements are in balance in his body. Thus, our fatty is deemed to be trash and does not deserve the respect his parents had.

He was once Head of the Immortal Sects.

Jiang Zheliu resisted the world’s destruction, protecting the people single-handedly. After losing all his spiritual energy, his hair turned white overnight.

All that remained was a millennium passed in vain, and a grave disease.

He distanced himself from the Cultivation World, went to Zhongnan Mountain to collect herbal medicines and grow flowers, as if to retire.

Until….. Those little demons he had once saved, his cherished juniors, even those devils that he had suppressed innumerable times, all came knocking at his door, each more excited than the next gripping his hand:

“Qianbei, what type do you like? Can you not be so rigid on your requirements?”

Jiang Zheliu: “……？？？”

Wenren Ye is newly appointed Devil Lord of the Devil Realm.

He is cold-hearted, devilishly handsome, and when he was younger he suffered a humiliating defeat at the hands of a certain Head of the Immortal Sects.

Still obsessed with this defeat, Wenren Ye hurried through the night to Zhongnan Mountain, but all he saw was white-haired weak Immortal Sects Leader, with droopy eyes, sick to the bone, with freshly coughed up blood staining his lips.

His obsession was still alive, but his heart was also thumping.

- Description from Novelupdates

I was possessed by the game (forced).

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.