My Apocalypse Territory - Chapter 295 - 292 Demonized Beasts Disturbance

Lao Li’s family finally gave birth to a girl! It’s a pity that we are on the road to escape…

Mrs. Li: What should I do? My baby has lumps and no milk to drink!

Jiayin spat out bubbles of saliva and waved her little hands: “Don’t be afraid, I have space, bring your own rations!” then…

Li Laosi: Mom, I picked up a dairy goat on the roadside!

Li Laosi’s wife: Mom, this rabbit hit the tree by itself!

Li Laosan: Mom, I went to fetch water, and the big fish jumped into the bucket!

Li Laosan’s wife: Mom, a handful of rice actually makes a pot of rice!

Mrs. Li’s head was buzzing. With the blessing of her ancestors, she was giving birth to a little lucky girl, who would prosper her family once she was born! As a result, when I turned around, there was a pile of dates, apples and pears on the kang…

Mrs. Li: “Wait a minute! Fu Niu’er, let grandma slow down. We have good things, but we have to take them out slowly!”

Li Jiayin: Hehehe

- Description from novelbuddy

In this period where countless supporting lead actors always attempt to counterattack, turn over a new leaf or simply refuse to take up the role, his purpose of existing is to fill the role of a good supporting male lead and uphold his duty to the best of his ability. To add the needed lustre to storylines and this world. Only, it’s a pity that someone who is not afraid of god-like enemies will be afraid of pig-like teammates.

Bitterly, he realises that for some unfathomable reason, he is being bothered time and again by a bastard who refuses to follow the script… In order to walk the path of a good supporting male lead, he engages in a battle of wits and courage with that person. Loving each other and killing each other, one ultimately cannot escape fate’s teasing– why is it so difficult wanting to be a responsible and diligent supporting male lead?! QAQ

- Description from novelupdates

What?!A perfect free-use novel doesn't exist?!.........So what? Just read this one.~~Hehe~~You're gonna love this, seriously.This is what cooking of three months is like.No degenerate out there can ever come close to my degeneration which helped me create this fantasy book.Milf?I have it.Young?I have it.Boob sizes?Is that even a question to ask.Ass size?Hmmm~~~ My favorite.Whatever you wish for, I got it.So come and follow the degenerate life of JakeMalcolm, the lucky son of a gun who was finally transmigrated to the world of his desire, using everything in his sight, his family the beginning and the end would be...Well, no idea who the end would be.So stay tuned to find out.~~First and foremost, this is a work of fiction. Any mention of a real person or religion is purely coincidental and all the work of my sick imagination.Read it, then decide if you want to stick to it. This is more likely a work of a whim so there might be holes that I might have to fill.Haha. Holes to fill.Anyway, this is more like an idea that progresses as the story does so if you have any fantasies that you'd like to implement, I'm open to them.Just don't overdo so the story doesn't spin too out of control.~~The cover's not mine and if the owner wants me to take it down, I'll do so without trouble.Bonus chapters of any sort would be decided upon once the novel goes premium, but before that, there is no schedule update. Just know that there'll be an update every day. Just not of how many chapters.Last but not least, read with an open mind and make sure you don't have any opinion to give until you're well into the story, whether good or bad.That's it. Enjoy~~

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.