My Evil Stepson System - Chapter 160 . Burying Max’s Corpse.

A crunchy and crispy chicken. The stretchy cheese on pizza, and eating ramyeon at 1 in the morning! I only wanted to eat delicious food. So why is my life in danger because of bulimia*?!

There’s a place where I can fulfill my most cherished dream of eating everything I want!

The virtual reality game Athenae!

I’m just eating well but isn’t this a bit weird?

The true value of food

(Acquired +1 STR)

The stat went up.

Note: *Raw says 폭식 결여증 which literally means deficiency in binge eating. I’m assuming this is the Non-purging Type of Bulimia.

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Spend life energy to infuse martial arts, and you can perform unlimited deductions.

Shen Yi’s mortal body only has a lifespan of less than a hundred years. Fortunately, he can gain his remaining lifespan by killing demons.

In the troubled times where evil spirits are everywhere, the long sword is revealed, causing the liver and gallbladder of these creatures who have lived for thousands of years to burst!

From [Eagle Claw Technique] to [Eight Desolations Splitting Heavenly Hands], from [Demon Subduing Fist] to [Golden Body Prison Suppressing Dharma Appearance]!

Shen Yi occasionally ponders, how come this lifespan is getting longer with more use?

He put the sword into its sheath, raised his eyes to the sky, and heard that there was a Jade Palace above the clouds. It was filled with thousands of saints, each of whom had experienced endless years.

This time I came to heaven just to borrow a million years from the immortals to prove my path to immortality.

- Description from novelbuddy

After mistakenly contributing all of his attribute points to the drop rate, Xiao Shi found that every time he killed, he would get an item.

Slapping a mosquito to death, drop a pill.

Killing an evil spirit, drop a secret book.

Slashing a martial artist to death, drop the opponent’s cultivation tips.

….

When killing, Xiao Shi was shocked… “How did I become invincible?”

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.