Samsara Online - Chapter 8 Potion store: Xiao Lei

When his family company went bankrupt, Qi Lin sought help from relatives and friends he had helped before.Qi Lin: “Brother Wang, I treated you to breakfast for three years in high school~”Wang Cheng: “I, Wang Cheng, am not an ungrateful person. Bring me 1000 bowls of hot dry noodles for my old classmate.”Qi Lin: “Xueyao, do you remember when you were looking for a job, you stayed at my villa for three years?”Qi Xueyao: “I paid you three years’ rent for a 10-square-meter room. Why don’t you move your whole family in?”Qi Lin helped these people back then, but now they’re indifferent to him.Disheartened, Qi Lin jumped from a high-rise building in despair.He thought he would die like that, but when Qi Lin opened his eyes again, he found himself back in his third year of high school.The family company hadn’t gone bankrupt, and he was still a rich second-generation playboy.Recalling the scenes after his family went bankrupt, Qi Lin sneered coldly.Since I was all about fooling around and waiting for death, why not become a rich second-generation with no morals?

Xu Jin simply bowed a few times in front of the nine star lanterns and came to this world that could guide the starlight into his body. Then, he bowed again in front of the nine star lanterns...

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.