Martial Arts? Sorry, I am better at Thunder Spell! - Chapter 251 - 162 Its true Im crying to death (Third update

On the surface, she’s a gay high school boy. In reality, she’s the hacker known as Z, who hunts criminals on the Internet. A girl dressed in men’s clothes; a master at playing games, punishing evil, and having the highest skill in seducing girls. When people learned that “he” was actually female, the entire population blew up!

Fu Jiu: “Great Deity Qin, do you have a girlfriend?”

Qin Mo puts down the laptop: “I don’t have one.”

Fu Jiu starts to seduce in a low voice: “In that case, you have one starting now. Me.”

Hearing this, Qin Mo leans over tyrannically.

Fu Jiu is dumbstruck: “Hold on! What are you doing?”

Qin Mo: “Using my privilege as a boyfriend.”

- Description from Novelupdates

As childhood sweethearts, they were made to engage under the manipulations of their families. It involved having to to live in the same room and sleep together.

One night, she is accidentally made drunk, and in his delirium, he kisses her only to realize he enjoys it. From time to time, he would sneak a kiss on her, but his “crime” is eventually discovered in an accident. After being accused by her, he says with a smile, “You are my wife, why can’t I kiss you?”

The two people’s daily routine is full of bickering and mutual discrediting of each other.

Although he claims to disparage, he actually cares intensely about her. He feels crazily jealous when she is close to other men, to the point of tying her to his side, so that she becomes exclusively his.

- Description from web

The world that nurtured the civilization which reached the pinnacle of magic was on the verge of destruction.
The last survivor transmigrated to the past, when the magic civilization started growing, as countless mages were still fumbling their ways through the thorny paths of magic knowledge.
He, who came from the end of the magic era, aim to reach the pinnacle of magic.

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.