This Witch Transmigrated into the Romantic Novel's Supporting Role - Chapter 195: The Spirit

Li Che had transmigrated and, after living nineteen ordinary years, he opted to accept his fate, marrying and having children, striving to support his family.But the moment his daughter was born....Through his daughter, he rose in status, and his life was no longer ordinary....With his daughter’s safe birth, you gained a Dao Fruit, “Immortal Artisan”.When his daughter turned one, safe and sound, you gained the Dao Fruit “Dragon Elephant Vajra”.At his daughter's age of two, free from illness and disaster, he gained a Dao Fruit, “Pure Heart”.By the time his daughter was three, lively and clever, he gained a Dao Fruit, “Chess Saint”.His daughter was four, five, six years old.......Li Che discovered that with each passing year of his daughter’s age, he could condense a Dao Fruit to enhance himself.From then on, Li Che harbored a simple and unpretentious wish.A Dao Fruit a year, quietly safeguarding longevity.As a father, he only wished...Starting from the warmth of his wife and child by the hearth, to peacefully protect his daughter's immortality.Silently condensing countless Dao Fruits.Henceforth cultivating his spirit, invincible between heaven and earth.

I returned after 10 years.

For three years Calix suffered from the Backlash of his undecipher Term Attribute. As he couldn't use his unique power, he went through series of misfortunes which caused him to lose his self-esteem. However, one day, he was caught in an incident that led him to awaken his hidden power(luck).“The fuel of my Term Attribute is sexual practices with the opposite gender?”

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.