MTL - Young Master Quan, How Have You Been? - Chapter 158 Beyond the halo

After binge-playing a game for seventy-two hours, the single-player streamer Yang Yu, who made his living selling game guides, quietly passed away in his bed.Unaware of his own death, he was invited by a deity to conquer an RPG game, and was persuaded into choosing the hardest civilian starter.Couldn't even defeat a single slime after leaving the novice village? Want to learn a taunt skill but have to actually verbally taunt? And the gacha only yields trash?Faced with numerous hardships, he actually... got excited.A true gamer never fears challenges; they only fear the game being too easy.As his sparse panel began filling out, Yang Yu felt an unprecedented satisfaction swell within him, and he became addicted to making waves, unable to stop himself.'Hey? There seems to be a lone hero up ahead. Watch as I turn him into a unit of combat power! Damn, I’ve been spotted. Hero, don't run away!'

The war in the kingdom intensified, and the orcs from the North were ready to take action. They traveled through time and became the ninth son of an earl. He was not qualified to inherit the title, but accidentally obtained the daily intelligence system. With the help of the daily intelligence system, he began to build a territory and obtain the title.

[Daily information has been updated]

[1: Renn was wandering around the Lucerne town market today and accidentally bought a life fruit from Mijie’s pulp shop. After taking it, he officially condensed the life seeds]

[2: In the northern part of your territory, there is an extremely rich iron mine among the Golimbo tribe]

[3: In ten days, your territory will be attacked by tauren]

[4. After seven days, there will be a group of unicorns looking for food in the west of your territory]

【5：…………】

[6: Engel Dressrosa seems to have some troubles, coming from the limitations of his own strength]

【7:……】

- 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.