Immortal Path Space - Chapter 444: Preparations

By a series of freakish accidents, she provokes the feared and mysterious “God of Night”.

When someone bullies her, he says, “Only two types of people bully my wife: those who haven’t crossed her path, and those who have already died. Which do you want to be?”

When someone questions her, he says, “Everything my wife does is right! Those who disagree can have a little chat with me!”

When he goes home, he pleads in a low voice, “Wifey~ Can I not sleep in the study today?”

“You can consider sleeping on the streets.”

“Well, I’ll sleep in the study, then.”

At night, he abducts his freshly-showered wife into the study. She shrieks, “Sheng Nanxuan! What are you doing?!”

“Sleeping… in… the… study!”

The next day, his wife dashes out of the room with tears in her eyes and a sore waist. That isn’t what she meant by “sleeping in the study”…

Luo Qing Chen is a wandering spirit that died thirty thousand years ago, roaming the Chaos Space

In order to not turn into dust, she is bound by an ice cold system to travel through time and space to complete missions.

Girls that pretend to be weak?  Slap them without explaining.

A silly cannon fodder?  Helping them amass treasures.

Meeting a real male god?  All of them will pamper.

System: Dear masters, what do I do if my host even dares bully the heavens?  Waiting for an answer, it’s urgent!

A certain male god: Change systems.

System: ヽ〔?Д?〕丿

- Description from Novelupdates

Ms Shen goes about her usual days while Mr Bo flirts with her relentlessly.

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.