The Young Matriarch - Chapter 2 - : Why Didn’t She Thank Him?

Xuanyuan was reborn into a strange new world where training to be a Xian was a cornerstone. There was however something ancient dwelling inside his body. He could now devour all of creation…

This is the journey of an ordinary boy and his transformation into the supreme being that reigns over all existence! Everywhere he went, he could not help but tie his fate with numerous women. It did not matter whether they were a goddess or a devil…

- Description from Novelupdates

On the day of her escape from prison, she had died unexpectedly and was reborn into the body of Madam Huo.
He was the heir to the number one financial magnate. She had charged out of nowhere and from then on, the obedient and weak Madam Huo had started to awaken. She had been trampled under her feet.
Huo Shao had expressed that since she had already been conquered, wouldn’t it be too unfair for her if she did not give her body to him?
The muzzle of the gun was aimed at her head, “I only lost my wife and did not divorce. Choose between loving me or dying for love. ”
Gu Ruochu,”…”
Do I still have a choice?

- Description from webnovel

Gu Shanhai witnessed this great world of numerous heavens and discarded his third life.The gods of the human realm forged an eternal utopia with blood and fire.The King of the Red Dragon led his knights, patrolling the never-setting empire.The scholar, with a smile and a sword stroke, depicted thousands of miles of rivers and mountains, while monsters opened their eyes and stretched forth claws, giving birth to all manners of demons....'Everyone here is a player; you can't call me abnormal just because I haven't been digitized, right?'

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.