God Of Crafting - Chapter 219 Budding frustration

In China’s modern martial arts society, Wu Xinghe was history’s youngest grandmaster of martial arts. He was invincible. Because of a strange incident, he was reincarnated as Qin Wushuang, a poor aristocratic boy in an entirely different world with its own set of rules. With his strong will and passion, he began his journey to pursue the highest peak of martial arts!

It is the Year 2052, mining workers in Country A have accidentally dug through a bottomless pit. Bizarre-looking creatures have escaped from underground and caused a large number of civilian casualties.

The Abyssal Passage has opened!

Ten gigantic Golden Ranking Lists have also appeared in the sky. The strange phenomenon has plunged the whole world into chaos. The Golden Ranking Lists have evolved from the will of the world. Those who get ranked on the Golden Ranking Lists will receive heavenly opportunities; the higher the ranking, the greater the rewards. The first person to be on a Ranking List will get its only divine-grade reward!

From this point onwards, the fate of humanity will be all changed!

Chu Feng bounces up from the sofa, gasping for his breath as he awakens to the year 2052.

He can still feel the cold sensation of the long sword of his ‘good’ sworn Big Brother Lin Yi slicing through his heart.

“I…..I’m not dead?”

He soon realizes that he has been reborn 10 years back in time!

The Tribulation has not yet arrived; none of the tragedies has happened yet!

He knows what will happen in the next 10 years!

He must now seize Big Brother’s opportunities, he must avenge himself!

He must seize all the opportunities and ascend to the Golden Ranking Lists, and obtain all the divine-grade rewards as soon as possible before the invasion of the Abyss!

He must become even stronger!

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.