Martial Cultivator - Chapter 626: Battle in the Rain

A former sporting rifle shooter genius transforms into the ‘Juvenile Butcher’. While originally supposed to have received the death penalty, he was instead fortunate enough to have entered a secret and highly regarded armed force, throwing himself into the ‘Nirvana Project’.

From the age of 7, Qiao Qiao realised that her family wasn’t quite the same as her friends’ families.

Her father, dressed in all white, said, “Our girl should learn to cultivate immortality with me!”

Her mother, dressed in battle armor, said, “Our girl should train her body to protect herself!”

When discussing it, they decided to solve it with a duel outside.

Her brother secretly asked, “Qiao Qiao, do you want to be in the entertainment industry with me?”

Then, her brother was kicked out of the house by her parents. She prayed that he was okay out there. 

Qiao Qiao sighed. She was really worried about this family.

She silently collected mech building materials. There was no other way, if she learned how to use mechs, she would be able to get a good job. Unfortunately, her unreliable parents didn’t understand.

It seems like the burden of supporting this family was handed over to her.

- Description from Novelupdates

As a wandering soul trapped in endless cycles of reincarnations, Claus must decide what to do in his current life.

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.