Urban Supreme Wild Son-in-Law War God - Chapter 663 - Crisis

Coincidentally, indoorsy-guy Zhang Yang went to the cultivation world, being the lowest level of zombie. By using a manual book named: “ Tai Yin Refining Figures”, Zhang Yang find his own way to success and leaves a “If a zombie knows how to use a manual, nobody can stop it “ legend in the world.

- Description from Novelupdates

The thousand-year-old Imperium is crumbling, and war looms on the horizon, bringing with it both brutalities and splendor. Caught in the midst of this chaos is Lansius, an office grunt and veteran MMO player who has been transformed into a medieval peasant. With no wealth, status, or magical abilities, and armed only with his basic knowledge of the art of war, can he endure and thrive in this realistic medieval fantasy realm?Follow Lansius as he moves from one occupation to another, striving to survive during these turbulent times.

Everyone said that Yi Qing was the number one Sword Cultivator in the world, with a swordsmanship and cultivation that no one could surpass. Whether it was when he was cultivating in the Lower Realm, or when he was in the Ten Heavens of the Upper Realm, he has always been undefeated.

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.