Ultraman - Only Want To Protect You - Chapter 44

In a world where dungeon runners rise to fame by mastering their classes and conquering impossible threats, Alexander was never meant to be part of it. No class. No path. Just a quiet life.When a mysterious portal drags him into a hidden realm known as his Inner Path, Alexander unlocks a class no one has seen before: Beholder. There’s no fanfare. No guidance. Only eyes that see too much, and power that threatens to unravel his mind with every use.Now, trapped in an abyssal dungeon that reshapes itself around eldritch laws, Alexander must survive alone.But with each victory, his vision sharpens. His spells twist reality. And the deeper he goes, the more the world outside should start to worry.Because when he returns-They won’t be able to look away.

She was the celebrated Oiran in her previous life, winning glory throughout the city, only to be betrayed and killed by her sister.When she opened her eyes again, she found herself as a little entertainer who had just been kicked out of a girl group.From then on, she embarked on a journey to lose weight and fiercely battled against the scheming bitches, relying on her wits and bravery.All in all, this is the development diary of a goddess ascending in the showbiz, accompanied by a male lead who appears aloof but harbors a tsundere heart within.

Time travel to the Xianxia game.

Wei Bujuan was forced to spend eight hundred years at the foot of Qingya Mountain.

For eight hundred years, the sky thundered and washed the body.

Qingya Mountain has become a restricted area of ​​life that everyone turns pale upon hearing.

Wei Bujuan has also become a taboo being rumored in the world of cultivating immortals!

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- Description from novelbuddy

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.