MTL - Ancient Thunder Dragon Spell - Chapter 1233 : Really strong enough

After acquiring financial power, Shen Yuan had become the target of their spoken and written censure... Alternative titles of this book are “After Financial Freedom, They Offered Their Loyalty” and “Life Winner, I Have Multiple NPCs” There are some things you know. You will never regret opening this book...

Shu Wan, the most outstanding daughter of a high-status family from a feudal dynasty, travels a thousand years into the future, becoming the new lady of the Fu family in the capital.------Her husband in name has gone overseas to explore markets, leaving behind a rebellious son whose name resounds throughout the capital.------Upon first meeting, the rebellious son speeds past on a motorcycle with his silver-white hair flying, “Isn't that my stepmother who's 6 years older than me? Skinny arms and legs, but with grand ambitions.”Before he finishes, Shu Wan leaps up and plucks him off the motorcycle with one hand, “Watch your mouth.”------Fu Yang is consistently at the bottom of his grade, especially with his Chinese language scores never passing 50.Shocked by his atrociously written exam papers, Shu Wan asks, “Are you even Chinese?”Fu Yang is defiant, “Aren't you a dimwitted academic failure yourself, what right do you have to criticize me?”Yet the next second, as Shu Wan smoothly writes down 'Ancient Prose Paragon' with a brush, it's Fu Yang's turn to be astonished.Isn't she a walking dictionary?------Fu Siyu returns from his overseas expansion earlier than expected, thinking he would come home to chaos.However, upon entering the door, he sees the usually defiant Fu Yang sitting obediently practicing his calligraphy with a perfect score exam paper beside him.And his reputedly timid wife, in a sleek black high-slit dress, confidently struts to the music, drawing the attention of everyone.But none of that is the focal point. The focus is on Fu Siyu's gaze, sharp as a knife, directed toward the dance partner's hand resting on Shu Wan's lower back, “Let go.”Note: The son is not the biological child of the male lead.

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.