Kiss Goodnight, Mr.Ji - Chapter 1774

When his family company went bankrupt, Qi Lin sought help from relatives and friends he had helped before.Qi Lin: “Brother Wang, I treated you to breakfast for three years in high school~”Wang Cheng: “I, Wang Cheng, am not an ungrateful person. Bring me 1000 bowls of hot dry noodles for my old classmate.”Qi Lin: “Xueyao, do you remember when you were looking for a job, you stayed at my villa for three years?”Qi Xueyao: “I paid you three years’ rent for a 10-square-meter room. Why don’t you move your whole family in?”Qi Lin helped these people back then, but now they’re indifferent to him.Disheartened, Qi Lin jumped from a high-rise building in despair.He thought he would die like that, but when Qi Lin opened his eyes again, he found himself back in his third year of high school.The family company hadn’t gone bankrupt, and he was still a rich second-generation playboy.Recalling the scenes after his family went bankrupt, Qi Lin sneered coldly.Since I was all about fooling around and waiting for death, why not become a rich second-generation with no morals?

“You are mine, and I am yours…”

The world cannot be saved by the victory of a single man. This book begins at the point where the climax should occur; the battle between a Demon Queen who is a little strange and a Hero who is a little curious.

However, not only do these two give up the battle, instead, they join hands to directly challenge the complicated social structure which dictates that humans and demons must forever be in conflict.

This is too reckless right? How can this be done? Undoubtedly, you are thinking that.

Come, please turn the page. You are about to read a story that has never been told before; the story of the Hero… and the Demon Queen.

Red-Outlaw follows the story of Yokais that are in the Race to become the next King as the Late king died. The story folds many deep mysterious, arcs and Adventure of Yokais and who will become the next Yokai King.

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.