MTL - Douluo: My Martial Spirit is the Ten Fierce Sky Horned Ants - Chapter 8 , Bibi Dong personally

Qin Guan was reborn and sent back to his final semester in High School 18 years ago. Getting a second chance at life, he works hard to turn things around and eventually become a Prince Charming. What will his life be like the second time around? What will he have to go through? How will he succeed in turning from a loser into a Prince Charming?

A cauldron, a secret forging method, and his blood created an ultimate weapon. The youngest Sword Crafting Master on Earth had been reborn from another world. With the Nine Yang Divine Furnace and a scroll of Divine Equipment, he was like a fish in water, standing at the pinnacle of the martial way. There were tens of thousands of clans, billions of cities, and countless experts. He was the master of ups and downs!

Song Yu, an up and coming architect was supposed to be the fiancée to the second son of the Qi Family… until her family went bankrupt. The engagement was called off and she finally has the freedom to love whoever she wants to! Years later, a twist of fate made her cross paths with the Qi family again. In order to land a prestigious architect role in an upcoming hotel construction project, she had to impress the director of Qilin. Follow Song Yu as she navigates through life and love!

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.