Mortal Cultivation - Chapter 405

The story is about a man who’s opposed to the now-common practice of implanting false memories, but is one day given memories of a fictional childhood friend. This fabricated happiness torments him, but then, to his surprise, he meets her – a girl who shouldn’t exist.

On Christmas day, seemingly overnight, God summoned everyone on Earth, giving every single person a 'Gift' along with a System.

These Gifts, synonimous with special abilities granted people powers beyond comprehension.

However, with these abilities came tragedy that enveloped the world. The Apocalypse!

Jeremy Lewis, a reclusive loner, is mysteriously exempt from this phenomenon and finds himself being the only one without a Gift.

God decides to grant him the last Gift available, [Subspace], and forcefully returns him to a world that has become hell.

Horrifying monsters now lurk around every corner, and inevitable death awaits.

Arming himself with his wits and the Gift he possesses, how will Jeremy survive this cruel new world that he finds himself in?

“Everything will go according to plan, and ultimately the path I have started will lead to my victory... these tools will be useful in achieving that!”

The sky thunders, Fang Yue, the nail household, dies on the street, the heavenly court blackmails, obtains compensation, reincarnates, and sees how Fang Da Devil disturbs the universe and upset the world.

- Description from MTL

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.