The Princess and Her Rough-Rider Khan - Chapter 611 - 609 Xianxian, can you dance? (First update)

Shen Yubai from the international class is a wealthy young master, enormously powerful and notoriously difficult to deal with, haughty and proud. The transfer student, Shen Sinian, is fresh and handsome, sunny and cheerful, with a mysterious background, almost mythical.Xu Chuning from the regular class and her mother rely on each other, living a meager life, attending school with the aid of scholarships. She should have nothing to do with either Shen Yubai or Shen Sinian.However, recently, schoolmates have noticed that she and the transfer student Shen Sinian are unusually close, their interaction ambiguous. Shen Sinian seems to do everything she says, whereas Shen Yubai from the international class shows special attentiveness towards her.One day, schoolmates even overheard Shen Yubai cornering Xu Chuning, asking her in a deep voice, “Who is better, me or Shen Sinian?”Classmates: “?”Is this some kind of love triangle showdown?

Orin Stonewood rises from a prestigious smithing family in the Astral Kingdom. Wealth, recognition, excellence, and charisma - he had it all. But life from twenty-five ended on such terms for him. He falls victim to a dark ritual. The fate after this mystery was to rise and fall in every life he reincarnates in. The ninth reincarnation made him Zmey Ashbane. Into a world of terrifying, exciting tales. It seemed as if every encounter in this world wanted to tie him down for some reason. But he knew his goal. To break free from the ritual and rise as a master of fate, not its pawn.(Update rate: 28 new chapters a week)(The book has a slow progression. If, after reading up to chapter 100, nothing in this story interests you, that means it isn’t for you.)Due to the progression, I will lock the novel at chapter 60.

A poor boy whose parents died accidentally found a mysterious space and set foot on the avenue of cultivating immortals. From then on, he planted spiritual herbs, refined elixir, opened shops, trained troops, and established a fairyland…

This article is about cultivating immortals and farming, not for mortals, not for stallions.

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.