Arrogant Healer God - Chapter 1726: All Four Defeated!

The protagonist transmigrates into a novel and gains a system where they grow stronger by simply writing in a diary.July 7th, sunny: “The boss’s outfit is hideous again. Wouldn’t it be better to wear something cooler?”July 7th, evening: “I’m about to have my engagement called off. So excited! How should I act?”July 7th, evening: “Lin Qingyue, the female lead, is probably going to drown her sorrows in alcohol.”The protagonist thought it would be easy—just jot down daily musings, record life’s events, and earn rewards. All while playing the part of a villainous, bootlicking second-generation rich kid, moving along with the original plot.But unexpectedly, the female leads gain access to copies of the diary entries.One by one, they stop following the script, and the plot spirals completely out of control.July 10th: “The female boss is an idiot—no one would want her.”Soon after, the protagonist gets punished at work, all because they entered the office with their left foot first.

Reincarnated into the Douluo Continent, inheriting the Emerald Scorpion Martial Soul, with no other options—what should you do if you’re forced to play with poison? Chen Ming declares: “If I’m going to play with poison, I’ll make sure to excel at it. As a transmigrator, even playing with poison, I’ll set an example worth following.”(Anti-Tang San, multiple female leads, no affiliation with the Spirit Hall, self-created divine position.)Raw Title: 斗罗：翡翠毒皇

Ashley Gusman, a determined young Filipina, was driven by her sole ambition to provide a better life for her family. She was willing to go to great lengths to achieve this goal, even taking on the role of a surrogate mother for a Billionaire Heir.***~***CEO Tanaga Jones, who needed an heir for his empire, was adamant about not wanting a wife. Ultimately, he contracted with a woman to bear him a child.

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.