Archfiend - Chapter 415: Dharmadhatu (19)

The Heavenly Dao is fickle. A phrase that he had heard all through his life. Only after that incident did Adrian truly understand the meaning behind those words.From someone who had it all, wealth, power, prestige, to one without anything. Heck, even his fiancée abandoned him.One of the Twelve Great Houses on the Floating Cloud Continent, the House of Thorne was reduced to a pile of rubble and dead bodies after a mysterious attack by the Demonic Faction.All that remained was a blood-soaked pendant and a broken future.That is, until his blood awakens the pendant, unleashing a dazzling light. When he regains consciousness, his pursuers are gone, but so is the life he once knew.Now with only his younger brother and a loyal servant girl, Adrian sets out into the night.Armed with only the mysterious pendant and the inheritance it contains, he must walk the path of cultivation.Can he rebuild the House of Thorne from the ashes? Will he uncover the traitor who aided the demonic faction?He won't stop until even the heavens know his name and fear it.

After his divorce, Lu Liang suddenly felt as if he was already half-buried now, after all, he could hear the sound of a revolving lantern, a sign of impending death.But then, he discovered that the noise was actually messages from the future, leading to a dramatic turn in his life....Living in the secular world, we are all ordinary people.Being ordinary isn't too bad; greedy for wealth, lustful, dark-hearted, selfish...[Not a single female lead, enter at your own discretion]

She was once the all-commanding queen of business, but when she woke up once more, she found herself disguised as the second young master of the Prime Minister’s residence!

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.