Becoming the Strongest as a Game Dev - Chapter 72

The young Xiao Yi bore a mysterious seal within him, yet due to his father and siblings’ injustice, he was sent to the remote Nanhuang and became a son-in-law to the Fang Family. On his wedding day, the seal inside Xiao Yi was unlocked, and from then on, he controlled the Eternal Celestial Tomb! Many of the strongest beings from all the heavens and worlds were buried within the Celestial Tomb, and Xiao Yi, who now commanded the tomb, began his life’s journey of gaining strength through grave-robbing! “You think you’re a martial arts genius? Let me dig up a Martial God’s grave and we’ll see!”“You consider yourself an alchemy expert? I’ll dig up a Medicine Saint’s grave and then we’ll talk!”“You’re the son of a divine emperor? I’ve got plenty of divine emperor graves here!”“You’re the number one scoundrel in the world? ... You win, I’m out!”

“O, Hero!” With that cliched line, Kazuya Souma found himself summoned to another world and his adventure–-did not begin. After he presents his plan to strengthen the country economically and militarily, the king cedes the throne to him and Souma finds himself saddled with ruling the nation! What’s more, he’s betrothed to the king’s daughter now…?! In order to get the country back on its feet, Souma calls the wise, the talented, and the gifted to his side. Five people gather before the newly crowned Souma. Just what are the many talents and abilities they possess…?! What path will his outlook as a realist take Souma and the people of his country down? A revolutionary transferred-to-another-world administrative fantasy series starts here!

“I can definitely become an immortal,” she said.He looked her up and down, sneered, “You can indeed become an immortal, a Lazy Immortal.”She breathed a sigh of relief, fully self-assured, “A Lazy Immortal is still an immortal.”He was speechless. Great, very powerful, who says a lazy person can't become an immortal~

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.