Urban Peerless Expert - Chapter 91 - 111 If My Fellow Daoist Dies, I Won’t Die in Poverty _1

Lucius was a man born to a pair of lowly servants that worked for the Great Demon worshiping Barrom clan. Growing up in the harsh conditions of the Barrom clan where magic and power reigned supreme, he weathered though humiliation and schemes. Knowing that he wanted to be the oppressor than the oppressed, he began his conquest. Not averse to betraying or scheming, Lucius made use of his allies as mere pawns to be sacrificed.

Learning that a powerful artifact lost eons ago was hidden in an ancient ruin, Lucius betrayed and sacrificed one of his closest people, his lover without hesitation.

But he didn’t know that fate had a different plan for him and the artifact he had yearned for would send his soul hurtling across the cosmos, forcing it into the broken body of a young man called Asher Inanis. Coming to his senses he finds the world to be completely different where the magic of his previous world did not exist, but what did was ‘Gifts’.

Witness how he learns about the world, gains power and reigns supreme against all odds becoming the Demonic Sage.

The dark BOSS, who had the fortune of becoming Earth’s last living human, brought with him his loyal, second last human to die, little brother to be reborn.

What does he want to do after being reborn? Is it world domination or world annihilation?

BOSS expressed, he was completely uninterested in these kinds of things, he only wants to die.

In order for him to make his boss who always seeks death to continue living, little brother is completely unscrupulous, serving his boss to make him comfortable and cozy, then later helplessly discovered…. The BOSS’s behaviour is more and more abnormal!

- Description from chrysanthemumgarden

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.