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... d a wooden staff leaning against the wall.

"That's a relief," Zoey said. "Shard didn't leave our armor, but we get our weapons at least."

Astrid hefted her dragon scale shield up, nodding to herself in satisfaction. She would have been the more disadvantaged between them. As the guardian of the team, her role was especially reliant on having a wide, durable shield to swing around and block attacks with. Zoey would've managed fine without her staff, though the amplified power and ...

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One day, in front of my eyes appeared a silver-haired Goddess.

[Heaven-defying Star. The existence that goes against destiny. The one and only savior of a world that was destined to meet its end—]

What kind of bullsh*t is this woman spouting?

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“…What?”

No, I’m not.

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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.

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Li Qianming, a CEO of his own right, was stunned. He had met countless women who wanted to seduce him—this was the first time he met one buying him for the night. At the same time, the woman’s stunning figure was latched to himself, her warm breath spraying all over his face. He carried her to his room.

Waking up the next day, Chi Yaoxi smiled apologetically. “Sorry, I was drunk last night, but I will pay you anyway.”

Li Qianming studied her in her naked form with just a towel covering his own modesty, and whipped out a prenuptial agreement. “My son likes you. Let’s get married today.”

“What??”