Kirigakure Gamer : Rise of the mist - Chapter 37: Black Market

Wake up to Marvel and become a latitude demon between existence and non-existence. In order to disrupt the real dimension, the nihilistic demon summoned players from the unknown dimension!

In New York City, [Black Hand Wallon] re-enacts the shocking heist, this time targeting the playboys of Stark Industries!

Hell’s Kitchen has opened a new home [Xinhei Dingjiu], and at the same time [Dark Cooking World] is trying to control the world with taste!

Jinbian ushered in a new enemy, and the Italian “evil” party named [New Pengliel Family] is expanding step by step!

[Miko Kikyo] living on the street met the fearless people of Hell’s Kitchen. While investigating the lost shadow case, what kind of sparks could they create!

- Description from novelbuddy

“Great Mr. Chen Yu, having been successfully elected as the leader of the human race last night, do you have anything you’d like to say to the whole world?” Chen Yu got out of bed, bewildered and still undressed, “I don’t know, I just woke up...”

He is the emperor of the business world. Rumor has it that he was fond of men and because of this, Song Wen Xin agreed to marry him.

After their marriage, he proved to her that he has the ability of a normal man!

“You are not allowed to hide when fulfilling the obligation of husband and wife. You are also not allowed to refuse the gifts that I send you. And, when you take the initiative to come to me… you are not allowed to stop!” He ordered her overbearingly.

Song Wen Xin immediately said: “In your dreams!”

He laughed enigmatically: “What a coincidence! I’m best at making a dream into a reality!”

He dotes on her, dotes on her with no bottom line at all…

- Description from Novelupdates

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.