The Rest Of My Life Is For You - Chapter 131: Negligent, incompetent, and irresponsible

In a distant future, seven centuries after the cataclysmic mana storm, the world of Gaïa transformed into a realm infused with magic. The fabric of reality shifted, revealing the manifestation of stats, skills, and levels through ethereal windows, visible to all. A new era emerged, where humanity awoke to the concept of Classes, bestowing upon them unique abilities and the potential for greatness. However, only the truly exceptional would ascend to seize the Throne in this extraordinary Era of Players.Noah uttered profound words, his eyes shimmering with an unearthly force. “Life itself is akin to a prison, but fear not, for I, Death, shall set you free.”

Reincarnated into the Douluo Continent, inheriting the Emerald Scorpion Martial Soul, with no other options—what should you do if you’re forced to play with poison? Chen Ming declares: “If I’m going to play with poison, I’ll make sure to excel at it. As a transmigrator, even playing with poison, I’ll set an example worth following.”(Anti-Tang San, multiple female leads, no affiliation with the Spirit Hall, self-created divine position.)Raw Title: 斗罗：翡翠毒皇

When Ye Qing Ran wakes up, she finds that she has transmigrated into a book. She has become the vain, domineering, and evil villain who dies a tragic death.

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.