Skill-Eater: Prison World Saga - Chapter 128: Fireside

Bai Xiaocheng was hit by 200 million, really 200 million, one? Pan Kochang?

- Description from novelbuddy

In the cutthroat world of Westeros, where power is a game and everyone's fate is a pawn in a deadly chess match, Gendry is a nobody with a secret that could change everything. A bastard with the blood of the Stormborn coursing through his veins, he's been thrown into the scorching heart of a blacksmith's forge. Here, he'll face the trials of iron and fire, learn to hide his true identity, and carve out a path through the treacherous whirlpool of power.As the shadow of the Spider spreads across King's Landing, Gendry's fate takes a dark turn. Can he survive the deadly game of politics? And will he find his own glory amidst the forge's flames?

“F**K! I'm dead!”That was the first word I muttered after regaining my memories from Earth.Reincarnating into a world of cultivation should’ve been a blessing. Adventure, immortality, power—what’s not to love?But then I remembered what my family did.My sister just broke off an engagement with a crippled young master—definitely a future protagonist.My mother ripped a Dao Bone from my cousin and gave it to me—guaranteed future revenge arc.And me? I’m already a third-rate villain: bullying weaklings and flaunting my Bai Clan name.Worst part? Despite the Dao Bone, I’m still trash at cultivation.My only hope?The System... which I’ve had for years.“I just never realized... It was in English!”

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.