Lord of the Mysteries - Chapter 1365 - Destruction

In his old world, Aiden Ferith was a peerless war hero—feared by nations, revered by millions. Through years of brutal cultivation, he reached heights others only dreamed of. But glory turned to ash when his most trusted disciple drove a blade through his heart, shattering his empire and his soul.That should have been the end.But fate had other plans.Reborn in a world ruled by magic, where mages manipulate elements and battle with dazzling spells, Aiden awakens in the body of a seemingly average boy named Logan Smith. Here, cultivation is unheard of—dismissed as a myth, or worse, a joke.But what they don’t understand will be their undoing.Armed with ancient cultivation techniques that bypass the limitations of magic, Logan begins to carve a path that defies the laws of this new realm. Stronger, faster, and more resilient than any mage, he’s not here to play by their rules.He’s here to break them.Betrayed once.Stripped of everything.This time, he’s not fighting for a kingdom—He’s here to live life on his own terms—to protect those he loves, and finally, to live for himself.

A no-name character that never appeared in the novel.An extra.Neo became that extra character....Transmigrating into the novel and gaining the bloodline of Hades, the God of Death, was supposed to be the best thing to happen in Neo’s life.So…Why?[Unique Skill: Death][Skill Effect: You die]Why did he awaken this damned skill!?

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.

When I became a rich young master, I had to enjoy it.