Gacha Sovereign - Chapter 1160: Lucky

The Bootlicking Antagonist Wants to Survive, but Female Lead refuses to follow the plotOne car accident and I’m transported into a city power fantasy as the villain. As long as I survive until the grand finale, I can return to the real world with hefty rewards. But! These stunning beauties don’t go to serve as the protagonist’s harem, they surround me every day. Are they not satisfied with how slowly I’m dying? Stop wearing stockings, stop wearing uniforms, what’s with all of you trying to seduce me? To find Long Aotian! Since destiny is in my hands, I might as well challenge the protagonist directly! Who’s the protagonist, damn it, who knows!

On the brink of destruction, I regained consciousness and found myself back in the past, 20 years ago. In order to have a peaceful retirement, I must prevent the impending doom.

The Scattered Arts, lost pages of manuals gathered from scattered archives from all across the world. Known also as the Old Arts, these are what remained from a vast collection of knowledge that was destroyed during the war that almost wiped out all of mankind. But we prevailed. Mankind rebuilt and reached for the stars.

Wang Xuan, a student of the Old Arts Research Department, had read about tales of individuals capable of inhuman feats, of practitioners ascending to the realm of immortality. But in an age of technological wonders, not many would believe in such tales. Only the truly desperate, and with the wealth and resources at their disposal, could even dream of unlocking the secrets behind these tales.

Corporate greed. This was how the research into the old arts started. But with new discoveries made in the New World, and the Old Arts declared obsolete in the way of the ‘New Arts’, the studies into the realm of the ancients is coming to an end.

Are the immortals real? Can mankind truly break its shackle of mortality and escape death? These are questions that Wang Xuan desperately sought to answer. He was determined to walk down the path of the Old Arts even as he reached for the stars beyond.

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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.