MTL - Doomsday - v2 Chapter 650 Vassal clothes

Upon opening his eyes, Muyang realized that he found himself in Dragon Ball’s world filled with dangerous people like Vegeta, Frieza, Cell, Majin Buu.

After the death of Fu Sinian, Yu Duo’s heart shattered into pieces. As his widow, she was the recipient of Fu Sinian’s massive amount of inheritance. She spent her days drowning herself with alcohol and was depressed all the time. She mourned her late husband with the companionship of her designer purses, designer jewelries, and money that could last her several lifetimes.

But only Fu Sinian knew the truth — that after his death, this woman hosted parties, lived in their mansion, drove expensive sport cars, traveled the world, and flirted with men. She was having the time of her life.

Fu Sinian wasn’t so angry that his soul dissipated; quite the contrary, he was so angry that he had come back to life!

Fu Sinian, who had come back to live, looked at the mourning Yu Duo and smiled devilishly.

“We are on! Watch me make you fall in love with me for real this time!”

- 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.

This is an era where heroes emerge in great numbers!This is an era where death and hope exist side by side!This is an era where the old order and the fires of new civilizations collide!What kind of grand epic will be written by the decaying federation, the fanatic empire, the obstinate theocracy, and the stirring foreign races?