MTL - When Golden Finger Meets Salted Fish - Chapter 58 illiterate tiger

Lost World.

A game where you can become a god and build a fantasy civilization.

Choi Sung-Woon, the number 1 player of the game, realized that everything he had been doing so far was nothing more than practice for the real thing.

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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. 」

If you found out that you would be transmigrated to a fantasy world 10 days later, what would you do in these 10 days?

[Activating the Cultivation Emulator.]

[Your current cultivation talent options are: extraordinary writing skills, disabilities…]

[Day 1. You transmigrated to a small village at the foot of Tianwu Mountain. You were determined to become a great cultivator who was immortal. On the same day, you left the village and headed into the mountains.]

[Day 2. You were in the mountains and hadn’t found any food so far. Hungry and thirsty, you sought temporary shelter in a dilapidated temple at night. To your surprise, there were monsters in the temple. You had no means to defend yourself and you died.]

[Ding! You completed the simulation. Every day, you can permanently retain a talent. You can also extract the talents into the real world.]

10 days later, Zhao Hao ventured into the cultivation world, along with 10 top cultivation talents.

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.