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... > By rights, only those who mastered the Tai Xuan Scripture to the Land Immortal level could activate his Sword Dao Essence. He had left this projection to convey certain truths.

“Could there be others with unique constitutions?” he wondered, his gaze finally settling on the young Daoist before him. His expression froze, his eyes widening in shock.

“How is this possible?!” he exclaimed, staring intently at Ning Changge.

Ning Changge smiled faintly. “Junior Ning Changge gr ...

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This is the novel behind the TV series, “Love Like the Galaxy”.
The following synopsis is based on the TV Series.

“The young Cheng Shaoshang was left behind because her parents had gone off to fight in the war. In order to protect herself from her scheming aunt, she had to be extra diligent while pretending to be the opposite. However, years of estrangement have made it difficult for them to become family again.

Lacking love her whole life, Cheng Shaoshang is both pragmatic and insecure in choosing a partner for marriage. She encounters three men – the emperor’s adopted son Ling Buyi, the talented Yuan Shen of Bailu Mountain, and the aristocrat Lou Yao who each have their pros and cons. Although the road to love is bumpy, she never regrets every choice she makes. Through her interactions with Ling Buyi, she unintentionally becomes involved in the mystery surrounding his family and his identity. The two grow from their experiences and worked together, upholding the righteousness in their hearts to resolve a national crisis.”

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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.

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