Invincible from Seeing the BOSS's Health Bar - Chapter 8 - Diao Deyi (5 more updates)

Accompanied by all kinds of crisis and despair, was the arrival of mankind’s first significant superhero.

Due to being reincarnated into a financially struggling noble family, I had to find a way to make money.“Just wait one more day, and the next volume will be out!”“Next week is a hiatus? Are you out of your mind?”“Hurry up and give me the next volume!”“Quickly!”Before I knew it, I was overwhelmed with deadlines instead of romance.

[Hi, I am Poppy Hardy, Your system general manager. You have finally gain access to the entire fund on the system. Congratulations. $100,000,000,000,000 have been unlocked. You can now donate as you want. You can now investment as you want. You can spend as you want. Good luck host. Become the most beloved man on earth] Once bullied, once humiliated, once he begged like a dog, but now everybody wants lick his feet. Ethan Winston, The remarkable Giver! Godly Investor! To hell with you all. I would provide and protect those in my heart!

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.