My Simulated Road to Immortality - Chapter 1518 - 1320: The Beginning of Immortal Creation

“I'm one game away from reaching the master rank! I'll do it tomorrow, though. A true gamer knows when to refresh his mind and increase his victory chances!”Adam smiled in anticipation as he went to sleep on this special day.However, he could never have imagined the surreal awakening that awaited him.“What's wrong with my voice?!”“Claws? A tail and horns, too?”[Welcome to the demon realm. You have been selected to reincarnate as a Lord. Conquer this realm of fire and ashes, become its uncontested ruler... or die trying.]Reincarnated as an imp in the cruel demon realm, at the borders of the mythological demon Baal's territory, his life seemed doomed from the start.However, determination sparkled in his eyes as against all odds, he defiantly proclaimed.“No matter who decided to make me start as an imp, watch as I turn into a veritable devil. Even Baal won't hold a candle against me in the future!”Equipped with his unique talent, he started his lord's journey, ready to evolve and prove to those strange realms that demons were more than violent and deceptive creatures... at least he would try.

I transmigrated into the gacha game I abandoned for 10 years.But, the state of the heroes I raised is strange.

Gao Yang was an orphan who, at the age of six, crossed over to a “parallel world” and began living in a warm family of five.When he turned eighteen, Gao Yang accidentally discovered the truth about this world: it wasn't a parallel world at all, but a mysterious realm, and the loved ones and friends around him were all terrifying “Monsters”!Gao Yang, upon uncovering this truth, narrowly escaped death and, at a crucial moment, gained a system called “Luck” .The longer he survived, the stronger he became! And so, a deadly game of sheep and wolves unfolded...

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.