I Screwed the Novel's Plot - Chapter 62 Ch. 62: Memories [7]

The notion of destiny is mysteriously unfathomable! Some fight to the death but fail to grasp it, ultimately regretting their journey on the path of immortality. Yet there are those who are born with great destiny, not only blessed with innate talent, their luck is defying the heavens. Heavenly Grade Techniques, rare treasures, Elixirs, no matter where they go, they encounter them! One day, the treasure-hoarding Clan Leader sent a message, “There are too many treasures, our Family’s Treasure Vault can’t hold them all!” Upon hearing this, Lin Tianming couldn’t help but smile wryly. “It seems like treasures have eyes of their own, always finding me when I go out, but this isn’t what I intended at all!” PS: This book is also known as “I don’t want to be the son of Qi Luck!” “I really don’t want to pick up garbage anymore!”

In the residence of the Duke of Zhenguo, the legitimate young miss, known for her icy demeanor, had transformed overnight.She, who usually regarded no one, woke up to confront anyone she saw with a few harsh words, using her frail body to intimidate so much that no one dared to touch her.Afterwards, this legitimate young miss began taking on retainers, nurturing powerful officials, engaging in commerce, and recruiting troops… Every act so shocking and audacious, it defied the norms and provoked fear in all who spoke of her!Yan Wanqing was seen as an enchantress and a disaster by the people, a thorn in the flesh and a nail in the eye that the ministers wanted desperately removed, an entity everyone shunned as if she were a venomous snake.Only the Crown Prince Mingyue, descending from the divine altar, in the dark, godless alleys, grasped her neck and repeatedly asked her, “Will you marry me or not?”

There is an ugly beast that violates women in prison.

A treacherous beast that is feared and called a “Butcher”.

That’s me.

I was once a human but now I can’t even remember my own name.

I can’t speak, and I don’t understand a word they say.

It is in this deep loneliness that I am pouring my essence into the women everyday.

I pour my burning rage into them.

Over and over again, until they conceive.

From morning till night. Until the women’s souls withered.

To show them that I’m an excellent stallion and an obedient domestic animal.

But my soul has not perished yet.

I will break free from this prison soon. And when I do, it will be your last.

Every human who betrayed me, every demon who altered me, I will trample down like an ant.

And it won’t stop until I’m satisfied.

The dawn of the beast is near.

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.