Level Eater - Chapter 43: On the Way Home

In the eyes of Chi Zuxu, Chi Yi is a typical delinquent with the three big ‘NOs’— no morals, no virtues, no principles. To her, though, he is a classic baddie who is heartless, soulless, and inhuman.

After the girl breaks and climbs through his glass window on the second story, she peeps at him with an innocent demeanor.

“Chi Zuxu, lend me the other half of your bed!” she wolf-whistles at him blatantly. The man admonishes with a scowl, “Chi Yi, aren’t you shameless!”

Inside the cinema, as Chi Yi’s little hands restlessly grope the man’s body without chagrin, she tells him smilingly, “Chi Zuxu, I want to do bad things with you!” Holding a look of woeful disgrace, he knocks her head. “Chi Yi, aren’t you embarrassed!”

It is a lovely love story between a barefaced and a reticent. But, Mr Reticient, please don’t cry when Miss Barefaced finally slips away.

Scholar System, Business System, Confucian Saint System, Oracle System, Bald System, Ancestor System, Myriad Realms System…This is a world overflowing with systems!In this world, everyone can awaken a system of their own!Everyone can cheat their way to the peak of life!However, Xiang Beifei was utterly confused, “Why do all you locals have system cheats while I, as a transmigrator, don’t have one?”Soon, he realized—Not having a system cheat was actually the biggest cheat of all!

At the feast of the Gluttonous House’s auction, there was a little girl with an exceptional furnace constitution for offer at a sky-high price. Everyone wanted to lay their hands on her. Suddenly, the little girl in the golden cage opened her eyes, radiating a cold gaze. She was no longer cowardly.

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.