Worm (Parahumans #1) - Chapter 190: Migration 17.7

Three thousand years ago, gods and Buddhas disappeared all over the sky, and the inheritance of practice was broken. It was not until the ancient civilization was destroyed that spiritual energy recovered. Ten thousand races took advantage of this to invade.

Five hundred years later, the human race gradually rose up and began to fight for control of the land of China, and counterattacked all races.

Three hundred years later, Fang Yi, the Lord of the Great Dao, slaughtered all clans, destroyed all the heavens, stepped out of the myriad realms, and fought against the Dao of Heaven.

In desperation, Fang Yi sacrificed blood to eight hundred small worlds, reversed time and space, and was reborn nineteen years old.

In this life, he wants to live a more relaxed life, perfect his Dao Xin, and conquer the Dao of Heaven again.

- Description from novelbuddy

The story unfolds the fate of a hidden village nestled deep within the Leaves , where the destiny of a group of mountain-top farmers takes a dramatic turn with the arrival of an injured monk and a rare mirror.Witness the journey of a simple family as they rise to eternal greatness.No cheats, pure love for family, and steady step-by-step evolution.A word of caution: If you're a lover of building tribes and cherishing beautiful family bonds, beware of reading this novel. It will leave you with a deep sense of melancholy once it ends.

At the end of the dark 40,000 years, the enemies in the Milky Way launched their final offensive. When the end of the Era comes, the eternal war will come to an end. The human empire has now reached its destined final moment.

But the gear of fate does not end. The fate of the Milky Way will be determined by him and them as it was ten thousand years ago. What will happen at the end of this dark 40,000 years?

- 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.