Star Martial Era: The Way of Star Light Cultivation - Chapter 516 - 219 Flying Sword Star Artifact_2

[Target Of Misfortune: Rank SSS (Level: 1)]

This skill changed my life. I a poor nobody despised by other had gained this opportunity.

Using the skill of mine, I will rise to the top. And no one will stop me.

“There are no heroes. In life, the monsters win.”

...

In 2106, [Mayhem Online], a fully immersive VRMMO game, was released. Soon, it dominated the world's economy when people could exchange the in-game currency with real-life currency and vice versa.

In the year 2107, Flynn Grey, a 22-year-old college dropout with an ambiguous history, joined in the fray of billions of people that had already started playing [Mayhem]. Hoping to uncover the game's secret and earn a fortune, he spent months on adventures without fruitful results.

For better or worse, Shura, Flynn's in-game character, ends up in a great Wyvern's den, acquiring a hidden class and a monstrous race. Join him as he defeats his past and paves his way into becoming a true legend in both worlds.

Sheng Tang raised a little pup, both adorable and obedient, but lately its behavior seems to be a bit off.“Tangtang is so sweet.”“Tangtang's smile is so beautiful.”“Tangtang is the most talented woman in the world.”“Tangtang's acting skills are unmatched in the entertainment industry.”Sheng Tang: You've been feeding me all this sweet talk, what are you up to?Mr. Gu: Is being a fawning admirer really so suspicious?Sheng Tang: ...You really want to be a dog, does your family know? Have I, your wife, agreed to this?

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.