Please Let Me Go, My Contracted Ex-Husband. - Chapter 138 - - passion

Three thousand years ago, gods and Buddhas disappeared all over the sky, and the inheritance of practice was broken. It was not until the ancient civilization was destroyed that spiritual energy recovered. Ten thousand races took advantage of this to invade.

Five hundred years later, the human race gradually rose up and began to fight for control of the land of China, and counterattacked all races.

Three hundred years later, Fang Yi, the Lord of the Great Dao, slaughtered all clans, destroyed all the heavens, stepped out of the myriad realms, and fought against the Dao of Heaven.

In desperation, Fang Yi sacrificed blood to eight hundred small worlds, reversed time and space, and was reborn nineteen years old.

In this life, he wants to live a more relaxed life, perfect his Dao Xin, and conquer the Dao of Heaven again.

- Description from novelbuddy

This novel is also known as Reborn In Space: Pampering The Genius Doctor And Businesswoman

In her past life, she had no one to rely on and died alone in jail.

But now, she has been reborn, given a second chance.

Got an heirloom.
Activated a mystical Space Dimension.
Studied medicine and became a genius doctor.
Opened a clinic.
Founded a company.
Bought a house and land.
Found her blood relatives.
Her worth became higher and higher.
Her fan club became bigger and bigger.

“Young master, the Zhao family’s young master faked an illness and went to future young miss’s place for treatment. . .” said a servant.

“Break his legs! Fail his organs! A fake illness? I’ll make him sick completely!” A man said.

“Yes! But young master. . . what are you doing?” The servant said, confused.

The man finished swallowing a bunch of expired pills and said, “I’m sick, gotta go find my wife for some treatment!”

- Description from Novelupdates

“You sloppy orc~ You can’t take down a girl?”He became the Mesugaki character in the Academy game.But the taunt works too well.

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.