Dual Cultivator Reborn [System In The Cultivation World] - Chapter 656 A Fragment Of Memory

One is the gentle and handsome zombie father who has raised her for thousands of years, and the other is the cold and awkward Professor Tianshi who always lectures her. I hate it, why are you digging by Uncle Mei? Jiang Xiaosi bared his teeth, I’ll choose whose blood tastes better… The story of a bouncing little zombie in the Tuoguxiang sex toy store.

- Description from novelbuddy

A code farmer, after working a 007 job, becomes a student at the University of Kentucky!Zeng Xingyang: So handsome, why play basketball? It would be better to act!Standing at 2.01 meters, with a wingspan of 221 cm, Zeng Xingyang, possessing top-level static talents, joined the Kentucky Wildcats and participated in the NCAA!There was intense skepticism from the outside, questioning the necessity of training a Chinese player!But Zeng Xingyang withstood the pressure.He made incredible progress in every shot, pass, and defense.His hardworking sweat covered every inch of the court!He is enjoying the pure joy brought by basketball!After winning the championship at the University of Kentucky with Towns and Booker, he entered the NBA!Unknowingly, he surpassed his contemporaries,Becoming an NBA superstar.Joining forces with Jokic, they grow together, building a brand new dynasty!

Travel through the world of Naruto, activate the god-level forging system, and a super strong man has risen in the ninja world!

One after another artifact appeared in the ninja world one after another,

So the whole world is boiling!

Grass Pheasant Sword, Ten Fist Sword, One Hit Kill – Murasame!

The beheading sword, the Zanpakutō, the flowing blade is like fire・d solution!

Red Sand Scorpion: “My puppet is not worth mentioning in front of his ninja gear!”

Four Raikage: “What?

He can slash through my Thunder Dun armor with a single knife? ! ”

Madara Uchiha: “I can’t even beat his ninja gear. What kind of fourth ninja war is going on?”

- Description from novelbuddy

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.