Manuscript Screening Boy and Manuscript Submitting Girl - Chapter 1 - The best job in the world

In the world of war games

Red Comet: “Amuro Ray, what kind of ability is it to bully recruits, come out and face me if you have the ability!”

Lin Youde shook his head: “What you’re looking for is Amuro Lei, what does it have to do with me, Li Abao?”

Go offline and return to the real world, to Konaku.

Lin Youde looked at the steel giant in Gnaku and couldn’t help sighing.

“Gundam is so handsome~!”

Correspondent: “Dr. Lin Youde, I have your sortie order.”

Lin Youde sighed: “Have it started again, stupid soul bound by gravity.”

Entering the cockpit of the red steel giant and opening the open door, Lin Youde said seriously.

“You guys, are you going to start a war again?”

“I just want to play games in peace!”

“Lin Youde, Gu Tie, attack!”

- Description from novelbuddy

She is the twenty-fourth century’s strongest immortal cultivator, but transferred into a world of magic where demons roamed rampant; a punching bag tyrannized and ostracized by her clan on one side while the scum of a man that is her fiancé humiliated, trampled her on the other side…

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.

She died in her prime as the Queen of Song.

After being reincarnated, she becomes a simple trainee.

Losing her former glory? It doesn’t matter—no one can compete with her voice as a beautiful singer.

Mocked by her lowly birth? It doesn’t matter—her true identity is enough to make the whole world tremble.

She owes huge debts? It doesn’t matter…

A powerful boss once whispered to her, “Your debt will disappear if you become my woman.”

But the proud her would reply, “I’m sorry. I would sell my art, but not myself.”