Ignite the Sun - Chapter 37: Hidden things

A passionate researcher and lover of martial arts and combat sports finds himself reincarnated in a fantastical world of Martial Art. No longer shackled by the disease that afflicted his body on Earth, he decided to dedicate his body, heart, mind and soul to becoming a Martial Artist.

What happens when a man of Earth meets an unearthly world?

What happens when science meets fantasy?

Follow Rui as he journeys through his Martial Path in a world of fantasies and tribulations.

Sheep eat grass, man eat sheep, what does God eat?

eat human?

Not quite.

what is that?

The most basic food intake is life. When a life is born, a mark will be carved on the root; after death, another mark will be carved, and the gap between the two marks is eaten by God.

life? Is it too slow to eat?

Therefore, what God likes to eat most is the rise and fall of the regime. The birth, growth, change, and demise of a regime will also engrave a mark on the root cause, and the energy obtained at this time is far greater than that provided by life. Among them, the energy obtained from demise is the greatest.

Ah, this republic has existed for 600 years, it’s delicious, and now it’s a matter of making it perish, and then mass-producing barbarian kingdoms? Or make him an empire? How should I eat it?

The protagonist who traveled through was selected into the game of God and incarnated into the lofty will of a planet. Therefore, with this planet as the stage, the rise and fall of nations and the struggle for hegemony of various races will become the food of God.

- Description from novelbuddy

I’ve become the time-stop breeding uncle from an erot*c game.But the situation is completely f*cked up, so I saved the world first.Before I knew it, people around me were praising me as a hero.…..I don’t give a f*ck about being a hero, I just want to retire. f*ck.

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.