My Simulated Road to Immortality - Chapter 1734 - 1420: Path to the Heavens Dao Array_2

A con-man and policewoman that are legends of their respective professions suddenly die, then are reincarnated and return to the Tang Dynasty of ancient China as little kids.

Accepting their second chance and forced restart, they choose to use the modern knowledge and specific talents that they have in their previous lives in order to live comfortably in this new life.

- Description from Novelupdates

[Hello everyone, my name is Amamiya Ren. This might seem like an abrupt self-introduction, and honestly, I think so too.][In fact, when I first heard my own name, I had a bad premonition. Fortunately, I didn’t encounter Shido Masayoshi or Akechi Goro.][But when I discovered that the high school I was going to attend was called Teitan High School, I knew I was in trouble.][I thought I had successfully avoided the traitor, but I didn’t expect that I couldn’t escape the god of death either.][Then, as I dug deeper, I found out more information that made my heart race.][I learned about Shinomiya, who is as renowned as the Suzuki family, and Sanzenin, which surpasses both Suzuki and Shinomiya.][But none of that is the main point. It’s Teitan High School alone that made me want to start writing a diary.]Putting down his pen, the boy turned his gaze to the prize pool.Naruto, Bleach, One Piece, Katekyo Hitman Reborn, Negima! Magister Negi Magi, A Certain Magical Index, Persona, Demon Slayer: Kimetsu no Yaiba, Marvel, Genshin Impact, Fate, High School DxD, Lord of the Mysteries…---All rights to the original content belong to their respective creators.Cover Pic: By akeisae, let me know in the comments if you want me to take it down.

Lin Chen was persecuted by his childhood sweetheart and accidentally obtained an ancient legacy. From then on, he embarked on a path against the heavens!“I am a sovereign! Those who insult me will be killed, those who obstruct me will die!”

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.