Cultivation: I Can Add Descriptors To My Body - Chapter 170 - : Watching the Show Together

When Yuan Zhi met Song Jiyun for the first time, Song Jiyun was conspiring with her brother-in-law to take over the family business;

When Yuan Zhi met Song Jiyun for the second time, Song Jiyun was planting and framing others with her breast brother;

When Yuanzhi met Song Jiyun for the third time, Song Jiyun’s breast brother was no longer by her side, but she was winking at his good brother…

Scholars can bear it, but he can’t bear it. Yuan Zhi decided… to feed the tiger with his body, and took Song Jiyun, a demon girl!

- Description from novelbuddy

The young Xiao Yi bore a mysterious seal within him, yet due to his father and siblings’ injustice, he was sent to the remote Nanhuang and became a son-in-law to the Fang Family. On his wedding day, the seal inside Xiao Yi was unlocked, and from then on, he controlled the Eternal Celestial Tomb! Many of the strongest beings from all the heavens and worlds were buried within the Celestial Tomb, and Xiao Yi, who now commanded the tomb, began his life’s journey of gaining strength through grave-robbing! “You think you’re a martial arts genius? Let me dig up a Martial God’s grave and we’ll see!”“You consider yourself an alchemy expert? I’ll dig up a Medicine Saint’s grave and then we’ll talk!”“You’re the son of a divine emperor? I’ve got plenty of divine emperor graves here!”“You’re the number one scoundrel in the world? ... You win, I’m out!”

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.

Bags of salt, spices and sugar stacked from inside the shop all the way out into the streets. Merchants loaded with goods going flooded the streets with their carriages.