The Bizarre Wizarding World - Chapter 218 - 171: The Pure Talent Seed

My disciple, whom I raised and cherished with my whole heart…That same disciple has returned and is trying to kill me.“Before you fall, before you cease to be my idol, my hero, my sun, I will kill you with my own hands. For your honor!”Just wait for a while…I’ll bring you back to your senses.

The fake daughter was spoiled by her elder brother and parents, but she, the real daughter, was disgusted to death and scolded as trash, she endured it… But what happened this time? After the rebirth cycle, the eldest brother who hated her the most hugged her and said that he loves her. Is she his only sister? Several other elder brothers sent the most expensive gifts one after another, just begging her to take a second look? This plot is not right?

Brothers:

“Yanyan, do you eat candy? Big Brother bought it for you all over the country and put it in a candy house.”

“Yanyan, do you like this house? The second brother bought dozens of houses for you.”

“Yanyan, the third brother of the playground has been transferred to your name.”

“Yanyan, my brother will take you to debut at C position.”

Gu Yan: “…” (Help! She really wants to do the task in a low-key manner!)

- Description from novelbuddy

This is the story about the rebirth of a xiao gōng with a sweet steamed bun-like xiao shòu.

In the past life, xiao shòu, in order to help xiao gōng block a poisonous blade, ended up dying due to blood loss.

After the rebirth of xiao gōng, xiao shòu was loved till overflowing.

This is a cliche story which is warm, sweet, no abuse.

- Description from Novelupdates

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.