A Necromancer Who Just Wants to Plant Trees - Chapter 2032 - 590 is already legendary

A cauldron, a secret forging method, and his blood created an ultimate weapon. The youngest Sword Crafting Master on Earth had been reborn from another world. With the Nine Yang Divine Furnace and a scroll of Divine Equipment, he was like a fish in water, standing at the pinnacle of the martial way. There were tens of thousands of clans, billions of cities, and countless experts. He was the master of ups and downs!

‘Less than a month old… I became the the great empire’s treasured princess…!’

Three years ago, he got into serious trouble for a woman's sake and ended up serving a three-year sentence.Three years later, he returned triumphant, only to find that the woman had sided with their enemies, and his closest friend had been ruined.In life, simplicity reigns: with the sky above, the earth below, brothers in the heart, and the beloved in the embrace, one needs nothing more.Yet, life is not always simple: facing obstacles from gods and buddhas alike, he vows to conquer all challenges across three thousand worlds. Nothing can stand in his way!

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.