Boundless Cultivation - Chapter 81 - The Crystal-Winged Sovereign

In her previous life, An Xiulan had been oppressed and tortured by the members of Duke An's household. Her legitimate status wasn't enough to save her from the schemes of jealous siblings. For sixteen years, she tolerated the oppression inflicted on her but in the seventeenth year, she was pushed to death into the frozen lake.

Now she has reincarnated into the body of a youthful girl in the modern world who died in a car accident. She was given everything she was devoid of in her last life– family, love and education.

Graced with a new life, An Xiulan is determined to strive towards a better life. She will be the best daughter. She will study hard. And she will stay away from puppy love.

Nothing must come between her path to become a top scholar!

But there seems to be a hitch in the plan.

Why was the backbencher Han Zixin following her to the library, laboratory, playground and even the principal's office?

Wasn't Big Boss Han allergic to studies?

Why was he following the campus Belle?

…

Teacher: An Xiulan is a top student. We must preserve her at all costs.

Class Ten gulped as they recalled how a certain bro-con had supplied cheating slips to his model student sister in monthly tests subsequently resulting in her topping the exams!

Lu Xuan: No one is allowed to bully my sister!! Only I can bully her!

Everyone in class Ten: ????

A few days later, class Ten witnessed the delicate looking youthful girl chasing her self proclaimed brother with a hockey stick!

The delicate looking campus Belle wasn't delicate at all!

...

A delicate girl can't possibly make two big gangsters of Jingyuan Highschool dance on her tunes?

I awoke as Violet, a familiar villainess trapped in a shady corporate research lab. Screw this! With my unstoppable cloning technique, I’m getting out of here and going to the Academy to live my own life!

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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.