My Backyard is the Tang Dynasty - Chapter 421: Bombing aftermath!

Have you ever wondered what it would feel like if your dick exploded? Or if voodoo or black magic actually worked?Axel got a crash course in both after leaving a one-star review for a trashy smut novel where the hapless author-san offed a minor villain. Little did he know that this particular author had some serious power.Suddenly, Axel found himself in the body of the very villain he was lamenting, right at the moment when everything was about to spiral into chaos.Now, with a second chance at life (and a brand-new set of problems), Axel must navigate the wild world of villainy—complete with explosive consequences and dark magic—if he wants to rewrite his story before it ends in disaster.

The protagonist, a renowned gamer/YouTuber aka [TorchDancer] is a master of the game “Tril Trilo Trilogy.” When offered a chance to playtest the prequel, “Part 0,” he jumps at the opportunity. But a twist of fate plunges him into the game itself, transforming him into the series’ ultimate villain, Frank Wonderstein. Trapped in a monstrous body, he must navigate a dangerous world, unraveling the secrets of the game and his own destiny. Can a hero become a villain? Or can a villain find redemption? Well, you’ll just have to read to find out.

Born different in a family where everyone has black hair and golden eyes, the boy was labeled a cursed child; yet, he didn't let despair swallow him. He would live on and understand the reason why he was different and what made him unique.Follow him as he embark on his journey of self discovery. This is the Chronicles of the Cursed Child, the one who will later be known as the Primordial Heir, the Elemental Lord.

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.