Top-Tier Superpower Student - Chapter 707 - 679 As Long as You Like It

‘I must entertain the masses.’ This was Jester’s lifelong goal.After leading 12 different lives as a Hero, King, Sage, Jester, and more, all he wanted was to mock the king and his court.Unfortunately for him, his majesty didn’t appreciate his vicious jokes.Jester died, trying to flee for his life. But death wasn’t the end for him.For his 13th and last life, he triggered the Archetype System and reincarnated in a world of magic and perils.[This is your last life. Don’t waste it!][Welcome to the world of Archetypes!]Oh, before I forget, soon, players from Earth would flood into his new world.But even players won't escape from his clutches! Even people from the Earth will be tamed!

A bloodsucking mosquito with the soul of a student, seeking revenge, rose from being weak to powerful, step by step from this unassuming life planet 'Earth', becoming a powerful force in the entire universe!Literary version: Reborn as a larva, striving for self-improvement, and ultimately transforming into a terrifying giant mosquito. From then on, I roamed freely across the universe, traveling the vast universe's starry sky!Passionate version: You weak cosmic creatures! I'm using my mouthparts to consume the core nutrients of your mother star. What can you do about it?Funny version: You think I'm disgusting? You hate me because I suck blood? Want to swat me dead with one slap? Just wait, one day I'll stomp your house down!

Past life, her spirit root was dug out from her body. She had wholeheartedly dedicated herself to the just path, but she was sentenced as an evil demonic cultivator.

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.