The Path of Ascension - Chapter 29

Doctor Jiang Fei, considered closing down the clinic because business was so bad, but unexpectedly his game character entered his body, making him omnipotent.

Not only is he superb in medicine, he also controls the life or death of the flesh bones of the dead person, and just like Yama he snatches people’s life.

He is now proficient in even cooking, playing piano, gardening, and domesticating pets!

People thought this was all of Jiang Fei’s skill, but Jiang Fei would smile and look at the martial arts cheats book. ‘The Dragon’s 18 palms’, ‘Six-pulse excalibur’, ‘Northern Profound Magic’, ‘Lone Solitary 9 Swords’

- Description from Novelupdates

Standing before you is the Quicklime Martial Saint, the founder of the Taiyang Fist, the Flower Folding Master of Dinghu, Half-step Master Invincible Under Heaven, the First Sword of Xuanmen, the Judicial God, and Taiyi....After the end of the Dharma, a time of grand corruption descends, the world devoid of spiritual essence, and the system of Dao fruits takes precedence.Embracing Dao fruits, ascending step by step, thereby possessing the power of gods and saints, transcending the ordinary to achieve holiness.'Just like this,' Jiang Li said while summoning a dog, 'Heavenly Dog, bite him.'

【Light-hearted and humorous + No female lead + No knives + Survivalist protagonist】- caution, this story is engaging.Chen Xun traversed into the vast and boundless world of cultivation, awakening the Immortal Ascension System, which unexpectedly granted him a companion, a long-lived spiritual beast.I, Chen Xun, have no interest in fighting or killing, nor do I wish to provoke anyone. I only want to travel the world with my old ox and witness all the worldly splendors. However, one day, I inadvertently discovered a secret….

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.