MTL - Chaotic Lightning Cultivation - ~ Section 16

Xu ZiYan has a little brother, and that little brother is gay. As an older brother, he has always felt a bit regretful.

One day he transmigrated into the inside of a novel and found himself with another chance to raise a younger brother.

Immediately rolling his sleeves up to prepare for battle, he planned to raise this little brother into an exceptionally good man! And a perfectly straight one!

Taking a lesson from his past experiences, he continuously perfected his training plans.

Clearly, he strangled any opportunities to turn his little brother bent in the cradle, yet why was it that the little brother he had used all his heart and blood to raise — was still a gay guy!!!

And he was a gay guy who made him his target!!!

Your father ain’t playing around anymore!

A body you can save, however a warped soul……how do you want him to save it?! What a godly problem!!!

In Victorian England, occult practitioners and the Nightmen Police, who hunted occult practitioners, were at odds and engaged in a fight to the death. Legend has it that one of the occult practitioners was a mysterious merchant who ran the world’s largest underground black market in the occult arts, offering a variety of rare treasures. Word says that the Nightmen have a newly appointed young detective whose decisive actions have solved many cases, and occult practitioners are terror-stricken hearing his name.

Duan FeiZhou: Good, both are me.

He transmigrated to this era because he accidentally clicked on an email titled “Congratulations on your million dollar inheritance” and confusingly agreed to join the Nightmen’s side to fight against the occult practitioners.

Who knew that the next day he would inherit a mysterious inheritance from his uncle – the owner of the world’s most prominent black market of secret arts underground trading… This was a bit awkward.

Duan FeiZhou decided to stay away from the strife to avoid falling off the horse and became a salted fish.

On the one hand, crazy black market customers hope that the black market will close down as soon as possible. On the other hand, the Nightmen are negatively idle, hoping that he is quickly fired. However, the more he rushed customers, the more the business of the black market became red hot. The more negativity, the more he was promoted in the Nightmen.

Seeing that the double-sided was becoming a bigger hassle, he was afraid his mask would fall off..

The Scotland Yard’s NIghtmen Leader, code name Z, has white hair, blind eyes, mechanical prosthetics, metal spine, all from war damage; his hobby is hand-rolling cigars, and if he can not save the hostages, he will shoot them together with the criminals. His highest ideal in life is to exterminate all the occult practitioners in the world.

He thought he had a heart of gold with a painful past, but step by step, he was impressed and conquered by the new young Nightman… He also reformed him.

Until one day, he learned that the young man who tugged at his heartstrings was his lifelong enemy – the owner of the world’s largest underground black market for secret arts.

Z: Oh well.

- Description from Novelupdates

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.

Elias' world was destroyed right in front of his eyes. Only after his transmigration did he learn that there was nothing natural about its destruction.“Mother, I passed my Practical Exams! I was so lucky to get a weak world like Earth for my practicals! It only took a few months!”The person who destroyed his world was the eldest son of the family he was transmigrated to, the Ashborns.He could never forget his sister's cries when she suffered and eventually died from the virus that wreaked havoc in his world. And here he was, the person responsible, laughing.Elias wanted to repay the favor. He wanted to bring absolute ruination to these people. And for that, he had to play by their rules. He had to become the Architect of an Apocalypse…