Immortal Fairies Always Have Designs on Me - Chapter 128 - 99 Palace Master Xiao ’Empathy’ The Kneeling Holy Daughter

Once upon a time, an Alchemist Grandmaster from the World of Immortals accidentally took possession of a playboy, who hailed from a rich and powerful family, and became a student in the middle of his midterms.

By the means of a miraculous immortal technique, he blended in and mingled amongst the femme fatales’ group to dominate the city! The nature of this novel’s origin is shamelessness to the core; having no sense of shame is just a basic foundation, but if the most shameless isn’t set yet, then become it!

- Description from Novelupdates

A poor boy whose parents died accidentally found a mysterious space and set foot on the avenue of cultivating immortals. From then on, he planted spiritual herbs, refined elixir, opened shops, trained troops, and established a fairyland…

This article is about cultivating immortals and farming, not for mortals, not for stallions.

Crossing the scene of domestic violence, Qiao Ji and Li remarry, and they are another litter of tigers and leopards. Han Qiao picks up a stick to beat the jackal.

She Wen Neng scolded from the street to the end of the street, and the street ruffian vixen who Wu Neng beat called her mother.

She opened shops, bought fields, bought houses, encouraged the hunter to forge ahead, and the three daughters raised all over the country.

Prosperity and wealth are in hand, and husband and wife are both in love. Who does not praise a good life in such a life!

Heng Yi, as an older youth, at the age of twenty-four, when Han Qiao smiled at him, he was moved and lost his soul.

What if she is a junior, holds a golden brick, and has been married before, he is still like a jewel like a treasure.

- 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.