Invincible Uncle-Grandmaster - Chapter 4

“Great Mr. Chen Yu, having been successfully elected as the leader of the human race last night, do you have anything you’d like to say to the whole world?” Chen Yu got out of bed, bewildered and still undressed, “I don’t know, I just woke up...”

Humanity's end came without warning when a crimson fog swallowed the sky. Zhao, an ordinary man, watched in horror as a celestial voice declared their fate: their Planet had reached its limit, and its people would now atone for their sins. An otherworldly force crushed resistance, and in an instant, every human was teleported to the Central Land, a vast and hostile realm.The voice from the heavens promised trials that would shatter their wills, but also power beyond imagination for the fortunate. Only those blessed by luck would awaken unique Lord Talents, granting them the means to survive and dominate:In a world where strength lies supreme Zhao will do whatever it takes to get stronger.Zhao awoke in an isolated area near a forest. As despair set in, a voice echoed in his mind:Ding… Million Times Multiplier System has been activated.Just as the rest of the players had known of the world Zhou's subjects were clearing out every resource.When others were building their base he had built a kingdom.And by the time they knew of his threat, HE HAD ALRDY BECOME GOD!

No one knows when the first Clough door appeared. All people know is that a new era began when it was pushed open.Fortresses, sublimators, pillars of star essence, three-dimensional armaments, infinite energy, who can escape the sweeping tide of the times?In the abyss, the reverse realm, the skins, the alien gods, the mad king, the rulers, and the dark creatures, all howl in madness!Inside the black mist, the demons and ghosts crawl forward as a cross-dimensional migration silently brews.

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.