Di Wang Gong Lue - Chapter 30

Zhou Can, an intern doctor, is practicing suturing on a piece of pigskin.

[Congratulations, you have completed 100,000 stitches and triggered the experience system. ]

[Sewing experience value +0.1. The current experience value is 9.9/10. Excellent level of suturing ability practice. ]

A master surgeon is quietly rising.

- Description from novelbuddy

After transmigrating into a fantasy game world, Ye Anping became an unknown cannon fodder with low qualifications who was destined to die tragically at the hands of a villain at the age of fifteen. So, he was a little desperate.

Fortunately, he was only four years old now, and there was an cannon fodder younger sister with excellent aptitude by his side.

Ten years later, the junior sister had grown up, becoming not only beautiful but also stronger. She caught the attention of the protagonist.

And then Ye Anping became fed up with the whole situation.

Ye Anping: “Junior sister, I am your senior brother, stay away from me!”

Junior sister: “Protagonist, I’m just an ordinary person, stay away from me!”

Protagonist : ” I am wholeheartedly devoted to you Lady…”

A man was about to commit suicide and decided to search for a way to die on the internet, but then he found an odd site that asked a lot of questions and had a point based system that allows you to create skills for a character. He took interest in it, and when he was done setting his character, he was asked, “You will now be transported to a world with the settings you chose. Coming back is not possible. Do you still accept?” Without thinking much of it, he pressed YES and found himself in another world with the skills he chose to have.

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.