Lewd Skill Stealing System - Chapter 7: Should I Learn Alchemy?

How does a half-grown mountain village boy like me end up bizarrely becoming the grandmaster out of nowhere?Source: Web...

In his previous life, Tang Shi was a cannon fodder. For a jerk, he even turned down a blind date his father arranged for him, but finally died in the hands of his lover and half-blooded elder brother.

Before he died, his elder brother told him that the one that always went against him, teased him and used him as a bait was the one who truly loved him, also that blind date his father had arranged for him—Yan Xu.

Feeling regretful?

What would have happened if he hadn’t made that kind of choice from the very beginning?

Chu Qianze turned the pen in his hand in a circle and smashed it against the drum next to him, the loud drum sound resounding around him.

Facing the two people who looked over at him together, he pulled out a polite smile, which was very dazzling under the neon light.

“I’m sorry, you are ruining my eyes.”

Later:

Feeling the gazes of the people around him, the flashing lights that flared from time to time, and a few gasps, Chu Qianze’s mouth twitched: “Is this a new way to surprise people?”

***

Chu Qianze, who had just arrived in the world and was getting acquainted with his surroundings, was inexplicably pulled by a man and was held in his arms.

“I already have someone I like; it’s him!”

Chu Qianze looked at the person blankly, but saw that the other person turned his eyes away, his breath a little disordered.

“..?”

- 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.