My Disciples Are All Villains - Chapter 110 - Old Enemy

This story is about a man named Putra Indra Santoso who reincarnated as Huo Yuhao. Witness his journey in Douluo Dalu's universe where he discovered and fulfilled his ultimate goals.My Grammar is not the best, but hope you guys like it.(An: I don't own anything besides my OC)

Being adored by one's parents and hoping to achieve something that could bring them happiness, a child sacrificed their carefree personality and chose the path of books and knowledge at an early age.Without looking back to see how those they thought were their parents were, in truth, only pushing them from behind.Esme, a prodigy from an early age, excelled in everything, unlike her sister, who, though adored by both parents, always lagged behind.Finally, after saving the company from debts and restoring it to its former glory, Esme looked back at her parents in hope of recognition but...“You are not even my daughter, you pathetic fool.”“Hehe, Sister, how about I take your fiancé?”“Um, you see, Esme, I love your sister.”“Tch, insect, how dare you reject checks whenever I, your mother, asked for money!”Those words lingered in Esme's mind before she lost consciousness and woke up inside a prison.“What are you doing here, Aron?” Esme looked at a handsome young man seated in a wheelchair, gazing at her with amusement. He was her sole business competitor, and now, he was visiting her in prison.“Nothing, just came here for a proposal, Miss Esme...”Let's see what awaits the journey of an heiress who was wrongly accused of being fake, betrayed by her fiancé, and had to seek support from her business rivals.

When a man finds himself in the presence of absolute power, what will he do? Dying has already happened, but he wasn't given permission and the creature responsible finds his tragedy amusing. Forcing him to continue his life in a new world, he is given an unknown task that must be completed if he ever wishes to rest.

……………………………………………………………

Dear readers! Without any ads, maybe you will prefer .

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.