Martial God Space - Chapter 885: Ye Xiwen’s Arrival

I couldn’t even clear the 2D version, now to clear the game in reality?Maybe I’ll have to live here for the rest of my life.Well, even that won’t be easy.– A player found himself in the game, Dungeon and Stone, as a savage barbarian.To keep his secret, he must become the mask – must make himself be seen as more savage, more fearless than any others – a paragon of his race in the eyes of the whole world.Back on earth, in the empty darkened room, the quiet computer again began to whir. Text began to appear on the black screen.「Synchronization complete. 」

In a world where magic is long but a thing of the distant past, where humans have the potential of harnessing a dormant power within them, called Battle Force…

A man from modern day Earth finds himself suddenly waking up in the body of Norton Lorist, a youth of noble descent that had been exiled from his homeland in the North by his family to Morante City, the capital of the Forde Trade Union on the pretext of pursuing his studies.

Little did he know what would await him when he receives summons from his family years later to return to the Northlands and inherit the position of the family head…

This is the tale of his life before the summons…

This is the tale of his journey northward and the allies he gathers along the way…

This is the tale of his rebuilding his family’s dominion and keeping it safe from other power hungry nobles…

This is the “Tales of the Reincarnated Lord”.

Lin Xing has the ability to turn back time.Whenever he faces a life-threatening danger, he would return to the past.He falls to his death, and returns 5 seconds earlier.He is killed by a falling object, and returns 1 minute earlier.He is struck down by a dump truck, and returns 20 minutes earlier.Then one day... he finds himself having returned to one year ago.

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.