Naruto: The Prince of Lust - Chapter 81 -

Next up is——The venerable master of Hydra, the High Priest of the Purple Sweet Potato SpiritThe psychiatrist of The Avengers, and the financial advisor of S.H.I.E.L.D.Batman's dissertation killer, Joker's soulmateThe head physician of Arkham Asylum, the professor with all positive reviews from Gotham UniversityA recipient of the Red Flag Medal, a possessor of God's blessingsThe iron curtain of New York, the breath of fresh air in GothamThe eternally undying Dark Sun——Schiller Rodriguez!(All titles mentioned above have been rightfully earned within the main text. Any new titles will be added as they arise.)(This isn't a web novel with a system, and the system disappears soon, those who don't like it can skip the first thirty chapters.)

19 year old son of Earth's Destiny Hero, Shiro Moji, Ryder Dawn is tasked with a fate only he can complete as one of three Destiny Children. As a sophomore of a top university in Texas, Trinity Valley University, Ryder only wants to live a normal life without the stress of being the hero Earth needs.Once Ryder is ready to confront his fate, his mentor and guardian, Charlotte White, takes him under her wing as the The Ace in her organization, Sanctuary Agency.Their main goal as the agency is to stop the Syndicates once and for all, bringing back the peace Shiro and Karma fought hard to bring to Earth.

Song Zhong’s parents were the geniuses of the sect. But they were apparently killed while on a mission when he was barely 6. As he apparently did not excel in any of the 5 elements, in fact, all 5 elements are in balance in his body. Thus, our fatty is deemed to be trash and does not deserve the respect his parents had.

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.