MTL - NBA: Get the McGrady Template at the Start - Chapter 112 Game start

“How can it be!”

Tang San looked at the unscathed Lu Yuan in shock, and subconsciously said what was in his heart.

“Nothing is impossible.”

Lu Yuan stood there calmly.

If a spatial ability user can’t dodge the most basic physical attack on the spot, he might as well dig a hole and bury himself.

- Description from novelbuddy

A 34-year-old NEET otaku, chased out from his house by his family, found that his life is reaching a dead end. He then recalled that his life could actually have been much better if he had made better choices in the past.

Just when he was at the point of regret, he saw a truck moving at fast speed, and three high schoolers in its path. Mustering all the strength he had, he tried to save them and ended getting run over by the truck, quickly ending his life.

The next time he opened his eyes, he is reincarnated to a world of sword and magic as Rudeus Greyrat. Born to a new world, a new life, Rudeus decided that, “This time, I’ll really live my life to the fullest with no regret!” Thus starts the journey of a man yearning to restart his life.

A poor boy whose parents died accidentally found a mysterious space and set foot on the avenue of cultivating immortals. From then on, he planted spiritual herbs, refined elixir, opened shops, trained troops, and established a fairyland…

This article is about cultivating immortals and farming, not for mortals, not for stallions.

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.