Dao of the Bizarre Immortal - Chapter 5 - Pills

Zhao Chuchu was reborn in a time before the apocalypse. As soon as the space was filled with supplies, something fell from a high altitude and killed her. Then, she transmigrated, becoming a small villager in an unknown dynasty. She started this new life by taking out the natives, dealing with the plague, and becoming a divine doctor in one fell swoop. Using her fists, she gained high status. She bullied those scums until they cried for their mommy and begged for mercy. She produced large quantities of rice, beans, and sweet potatoes… She could do everything, and she earned a lot of money with that. Everyone watched as she reconciled with Xiao Xiucai. They watched until a baby was born, as well as until Xiao Xiucai became the top scholar and smoothly became the Chief Minister. Then, everyone waited for the day the Chief Minister would divorce his wife, who went through hardships in life with him. They waited and waited until the couple had grown old, the two living together for the rest of their lives.

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.

It was one thing to have my hands and feet securely tied, but why was my mouth also sealed? I should at least have been ...It was one thing to have my hands and feet securely tied, but why was my mouth also sealed? I should at least have been able to make a noise! Why was I confined in a mental asylum? Why did it seem like everyone was afraid of me? Why... do I feel like laughing?----------------This is a story where Holmes and the Joker wreak havoc on the SCP Foundation. I hope everyone will enjoy it!