Evolution begins with an ant colony - Chapter 2: What it takes to survive

When disaster struck, Ling Mo knew that the kinds of zombies depicted in doomsday movies would in fact, be totally different from reality…

Normally, the most important thing to do during the end of the world is to survive, but when Ling Mo picked up his girlfriend from an abandoned bus, the trajectory of his life had gone completely out of control.

The cause of this was very simple. His girlfriend, mutated…

Wait, Shana, that sickle in your hand looks like its being pointed at my pants!

Senior sister! Stop trying to pounce on me the moment I’m distracted!

And little girl, is it really alright for you to just hide by my side and laugh?

Lastly…all of you, stop trying to bite me…ahhh!!!

- Description from novelupdates

Procrastinator extraordinaire, Fang Ning, had lost his consciousness after banging his head on a night of celebration. He woke up to a realization that he no longer had control of his body, as a System had taken it over. Will he eventually regain control of his body or will he be trapped in his body forever? How does he maneuver this situation? What’s in store for Fang Ning?

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.