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... beast's physical abilities.

It was the job Ain used to have while playing Asra.

Thanks to the ferocious claws and the endless stamina, she'd turned countless users into light.

A big wolf and a small one looked at each other.

When their eyes met, the big wolf laughed.

He'd realized that the opponent was a lot weaker than him, and, at the same time, a small fire wolf.

「Hyun! Can you help me?!」 Ain quickly asked Hyun through the party conversation.

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The cold star reflects the halberd, the moon shines on the bow, and the dragon bird and the snow are startled at night.

Outside of Qianshan, Banzhi’s fame is in the hometown of Yinhua Huoshu.

“I, Rong Taotao, will one day be the master of those nine stars.”

That year, a young man with a small schoolbag, a natural scroll on his head, and a Fang Tianhua halberd said this on the rooftop.

Easy and funny, welcome to the pit.

The work “Nine Stars Poisonous Milk” has been completed in 4 million words, and you are welcome to read it.

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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.

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