Great Demon Sun Wukong - Chapter 787 - 700 Twilight of the Gods

Dragon 5th is a powerful lord with incredible martial arts, and yet is wasting away from a fatal disease. The only medicine which can cure his sickness lies in the clutches of his venemous ex-wife, Madam Lovesickness, and is guarded by 7 dangerous killers, fugitives of the martial world. To retrieve the antidote, Dragon 5th hires Liu Changjie, a skilled martial artist who loves drinking and women, but has a mysterious past. All is not what it seems in this wuxia heist story.

In a distant future, the empires of mankind span the galaxy, and glorious Earth has devolved into a peripheral backwater.

In Shanjing city in the Asian region, Wang Zheng’s dreams of becoming a mech pilot are crushed when his college entrance exam genetic score turns out a pathetic twenty eight, barely above an animal.

To make things worse, people get the impression he attempted suicide after being rejected by the campus beauty.

Then the closest thing to a family he has, the old man in the book store across the road, goes missing, leaving him only a mysterious birthday present.

Gu Nianzhi had no idea how to get the aloof and handsome Major General to fall in love with her.

His eyes were dark and serious. “…Seduce me. If you can do it, I’m yours.”

Gu Nianzhi: “!!!”

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.