The Lucky Heiress - Chapter 615: I Will Give You a New Identity_1

In a future city intertwined with science, magic, and various races, a fearsome villain lives.“How dare you try to use such a young child. Do you have no conscience?”“It’s truly regrettable. To think that this girl could be the key to eradicating a den of evil.”“You can rest easy now. We will definitely protect you.”Sorry, but I’m actually that villain…It seems like a serious misunderstanding.

With her superb skills, Tang Ming has countless peach blossoms from small to large.

There is a President willing to contract fish ponds for her.

There are also overbearing male masters who are willing to make a fortune for her.

School grass keeps his body like jade for her, infatuated male leads are countless.

There are countless peach blossom debts, and the whole body is written with slag from top to bottom.

Until she encountered the system.

From then on, the road to ending slag, is getting farther and farther away…….

*School grass means the hottest guy in school.

- Description from Novelupdates

“You want to steal my genes then leave?” He grabbed her and tried to force her to hand over the child that was born three years ago.

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.