Marvel: Empire of Power - Chapter 39: Adlerhorst and the Altar of Skulls

After a disaster, a despised son-in-law quietly undergoes a shocking transformation. With both medical and martial arts skills, a battle for redemption is on the brink of erupting...

Mu Mu transmigrated in the novel that had the plot like a fraud marriage with a man dressed in women’s clothing, rich man regretting and taking revenge after rebirth.

The body he had transmigrated into was none other than that of a scumbag who was a fraud man dressed in women’s clothing. He was also the one that the protagonist took revenge against.

And now, he was standing at the door of the Civil Affairs Bureau with that damn protagonist, holding the newly-released marriage certificate in his hand.

Mu Mu agitatedly raised his head. He saw the fierce and sinister expression on that damn protagonist. He was twitching the corners of his mouth, showing a grim smirk of wishing to eat his blood and flesh.

Mu Mu’s legs were weak and his eyes turned dark. He was trembling: “My good brother, why don’t we get a divorce?”

- Description from Novelupdates

Two thousand years ago, the Emperor slayed a dragon in the wild, inaugurating the era of mankind.Since then, whenever malevolent dragons wreaked havoc, heroes have always emerged as destined, allowing time to flow across a long and peaceful human world.As the century turned, the sudden appearance of individuals with supernatural abilities triggered unprecedented disturbances. People constructed a sanctuary for these superhumans in the sky, on the back of a colossal dragon, called the Dome City.One spring day, Gongsun Ce, who had just started university six months ago, encountered a hunter who claimed to be a Wuchang master.“Hey, can you really do such a thing?!”“It's quite normal, because I am a superhuman.”—Thus, the love-comedy battle of supernatural abilities in a youthful campus begins!

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.