Amongst Cultivators, I Stand Above All - Chapter 9

In the 1960s, resources were extremely scarce. Thankfully, she had a personal space filled with supplies, ensuring she never lacked for food and clothing.

Lin Qiao remembers nothing from the past five years since the post-apocalyptic era began. She wakes up only to find herself having become a newborn, superpowered zombie, in a body that used to belong to an evil and notorious woman!

Having kidnapped a girl and raped her father, the previous host met her demise at the very hands of the conspiracies she courted all her life, leaving Lin Qiao no choice but to deal with the consequences while trying to figure out her own past and the fate of her loved ones.

As for the little girl’s father, can’t he just have a decent fight? He’s a human being, but why is he biting a zombie? She’s the zombie! She’s the one who’s supposed to bite!

Nora is transported to another version of Earth populated mostly by men. A world where women ruled with absolute and unmerciful power. Nora must protect herself, her identity and the group of men that she is forced to love. Will she be able to maintain her cover identity and make a life for herself that she can ethically tolerate?

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.