MTL - Reborn National Male God: Jiu Shao, Please Advise! - Chapter 2522 Ye Xiubai × Ye Chuyang: Variety Show (38)

Standing before you is the Quicklime Martial Saint, the founder of the Taiyang Fist, the Flower Folding Master of Dinghu, Half-step Master Invincible Under Heaven, the First Sword of Xuanmen, the Judicial God, and Taiyi....After the end of the Dharma, a time of grand corruption descends, the world devoid of spiritual essence, and the system of Dao fruits takes precedence.Embracing Dao fruits, ascending step by step, thereby possessing the power of gods and saints, transcending the ordinary to achieve holiness.'Just like this,' Jiang Li said while summoning a dog, 'Heavenly Dog, bite him.'

“I thought I was becoming powerful, but it never occurred to me I was inching closer to the abyss.”

***

The Blue Planet: Earth.

Shane was living a beautiful life. He was a topper in his university. Girls flocked around him like birds and bees. His friends treated him as some God.

Everything was good until he was electrocuted.

If you are wondering if his adventures have ended, you're wrong. This was just the beginning.

The next moment he opened his eyes, he became something he never dreamt of—a system. Wait, why wasn't he a host instead?! Wouldn't people enter into amazing fantasy worlds with a cool system after dying?

Why did he have to wake up in a white room?!

He thought everything would be fine even after becoming a system. What could go wrong when he just had to sit behind the desk and handle different hosts?

Boy was he so wrong.

He could use Dark Cosmic Energy! Something only demonic beings could use!

What was going on? He was a human being in his previous life! How the heck could he use demonic power?

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Sneak peak~

“D-Destroy….” Shane's mind buzzed as he thought of something, “Y-You don't mean…. I-I have to destroy an entire world?”

“No,” When Ed said that, Shane's shoulders relaxed as if he had been unburdened, only to freeze again after hearing the next words: “You have to destroy worlds.”

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.