Godly Revival System: I Buy My Killer's Stats - Chapter 138: [Death Echo]

Waking up in the middle of that, she nearly screamed—until she saw him.Her cold, obsessive husband. The man she had spent an entire lifetime running from.In her past life, she trusted the wrong people. She abandoned the man who truly loved her and ended up betrayed, ruined, and dead.This time? Ha! Divorce? Dream on.Since fate gave her another chance, she’d play the game her way. Stay mysterious, act sweet, and turn every schemer against each other.And as for the dangerously obsessed husband?Let’s see who traps who first!

The Red Dragon came from the vast wild wastes, coveting all the strength in the world. It once had countless titles: Mountain's Wrathful Flame, Infernal Calamity, Crimson Emperor, Ashen Dragon......The world trembled under the shadow of the giant dragons. He stirred up the craze of the magic industrial revolution; in the empire he established, Wyverns roared, artillery fired in unison, and steel beasts appeared in the sky and on the land, while disasters from another world rampaged everywhere.“Submit, or die.”Cassius spread his wings, blotting out the sun, and gazed down at the trembling humans, elves, and dwarves below, saying thus.......It is a story about a Red Dragon with a player template conquering, ruling, and transforming an alternate world.(Pseudo of DnD, The Fourth Calamity, Red Dragon)

Transmigrating into a mystical and eerie world, Fan Wu gains a special ability: a system to allocate attribute points! By slaying demons and monsters, he earns points to enhance his own attributes!From then on, a peculiarly muscular Taoist priest appears in this supernatural world.Facing trembling demons and monsters, Fan Wu reveals a ferocious grin.“Your purity is too low!”“System, enhance my stats!”

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.