MTL - Reincarnated Devil King - Chapter 93 Hit the ground

I transmigrated into the gacha game I abandoned for 10 years.But, the state of the heroes I raised is strange.

A 29 year old civil employment exam student wakes up in a blank white room and meets a baby angel. This baby angel informs him that he died in his sleep due to heart disease like his father and grandfather. Remembering his mom and their last conversation he says that he will take on a series of life and death tests that the baby angel offers him. From this point on he must put his life on the line and fight in the stage called ‘Arena’. And Every time he clears a test he will gain abilities and weapons to increase his strength. All to clear the tests and get his life back. This is his story of his fights in the ‘Arena’.

Li Che had transmigrated and, after living nineteen ordinary years, he opted to accept his fate, marrying and having children, striving to support his family.But the moment his daughter was born....Through his daughter, he rose in status, and his life was no longer ordinary....With his daughter’s safe birth, you gained a Dao Fruit, “Immortal Artisan”.When his daughter turned one, safe and sound, you gained the Dao Fruit “Dragon Elephant Vajra”.At his daughter's age of two, free from illness and disaster, he gained a Dao Fruit, “Pure Heart”.By the time his daughter was three, lively and clever, he gained a Dao Fruit, “Chess Saint”.His daughter was four, five, six years old.......Li Che discovered that with each passing year of his daughter’s age, he could condense a Dao Fruit to enhance himself.From then on, Li Che harbored a simple and unpretentious wish.A Dao Fruit a year, quietly safeguarding longevity.As a father, he only wished...Starting from the warmth of his wife and child by the hearth, to peacefully protect his daughter's immortality.Silently condensing countless Dao Fruits.Henceforth cultivating his spirit, invincible between heaven and earth.

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.