Summoner of Miracles - Chapter 332

The main character has been reincarnated, and he possesses a system and a powerful treasure. Using these, he plans to create his own universe. Keep reading to find out more.

The old man pointed to the flower-like woman and said, “Call her mother from now on.” He then pointed to a flower-bud-like girl and said, “This is your sister.”

My younger sister was not cute.

She was arrogant, taciturn and weird, but she knew how to please our parents.

She was two-faced and deceitful, but it seemed like she only treated me that way.

I cared for her, tried to please her as much as I can, but she still disliked me.

Until one day, I found out her secret, our relationship began to get a little bit weird…

A reader has been watching Hanyu for so many years and can’t help but revolt!

This is a Korean entertainment in my imagination, not a stallion, not a red palace. Korean entertainment that is as close to real life as possible

- Description from novelbuddy

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.