Martial Arts Master - Chapter 89

The main protagonist Chen He often meets crazy people in his life, and all these people have very deep prejudices against him. They often do weird things.

(1)

Once, Chen He polished off a bunch of hired killers (who seemed to be after him?), and eventually found the mastermind.

Chen He: You and I are complete strangers, so why are you doing this to me?

Mastermind: You’re gonna kill me after ten years! Of course I’ve got to make a preemptive strike.

Chen He: …

(2)

Chen He: Sir, we have had no bad blood between us, and I have not done anything to offend you. Why are you being so threatening?

Taoist priest: Hmph! In the future, you’ll be offending me to no end. Haven’t you been looking down on me all your life?

Chen He: …but I still have my entire life ahead of me!

(3)

Antagonist A: Chen He! Because of your master, I was rejected by XX Sect, and so I was forced to become a demonic cultivator!

Chen He: Who…who are you?

Antagonist B: My future lover’s meridians and good looks were ruined by you, and I’m definitely not gonna let you do it this time!

Chen He could not help but think: There is definitely something wrong with my life!

- Description from Novelupdates

24 years old technology genius, was paralyzed by an accident. Cyra felt freedom for the first time in her life.But the world always throws things at you when you least expect. She transmigrated into a world where genders are reversed but still feeling the joy of her new working legs, she was thrown into a chaos space that would shape her bubbly personality into a dangerous being that made the world tremble.This is a reverse harem novel.Form Author San: my novel is not perfect, read at your own risk. For your author's brain cells please support me with 'love'. Ha! Just kidding. Leave your comments, reviews, and votes.

The scum Medicine God was banished to a savage other world, forced to undergo reformation!

The soul of Yan Mo, who had thoroughly offended the heavens, passed through to another world, not waking for long before realizing the cruel circumstances he was in.

He was hit unconscious by another person and carried back as winter food reserves.

The tribe that he was at was a super-Spartan type of primitive tribe.

The people here only cared about two things: Fighting strength! Fighting strength!

The former fighting strength is used on the battlefield, the latter fighting strength……

Checking illness? Chinese medical doctor? Drinking bitter dregs? What sort of toy is that? Are you conspiring to murder my tribe’s young warriors? Kill!

Growing wheat? Raising pigs and chicken? We’re warriors, not slaves! Kill!

Teaching women how to make clothes and cook? Making soap and perfume for them? ****, unexpectedly seducing the tribe’s women! Kill!

You say you’re god’s messenger? Come to guide us in the direction of a more beautiful life? Very good, give you one day’s period, go and subdue all of our enemies and turn them all into slaves to bring back. Impossible? Kill!

Yan Mo, “……”

- Description from novelupdates

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.