Universal Lord: Creating My Valkyries Army - Chapter 15: Terror Of Transcendent Rank

On the brink of destruction, I regained consciousness and found myself back in the past, 20 years ago. In order to have a peaceful retirement, I must prevent the impending doom.

Reborn into an ancient world of hardship, Chen Qing became a scholar who toiled through ten years of cold study, finally achieving fame on the golden list. Just when he thought he'd join the ranks of the literati, marry a beauty, and reach the pinnacle of life, he suddenly found himself entangled in a bizarre and fantastical incident.It was also at that time that he discovered this world was far from simple—there were man-eating demons, heart-bewitching devils, and even the legendary immortals who could live forever but were exceptionally strange!What he found even more inconceivable was... these deadly things seemed... to all have been designed by himself!!!

This novel is about low ranking staff Shan Shan being oppressed by the Big Boss. She keeps fighting but keeps losing. So she finally stopped struggling and obediently surrendered…

Shan Shan, extremely docile, waited outside the delivery room at the temporary blood bank. At the same time, the big boss sent her away to do a blood test to ensure she was of good health and suitable blood type.

Sure enough, the pregnant woman was in a critical condition. Thus, Shan Shan obediently let 300 cc of her blood being pumped. The condition of the pregnant woman improved. Shan Shan received many thanks, left the hospital and lamented this while looking at the moon:

“Capitalists really are blood-suckers, heartless, heartless.”

Shan Shan, who is deep in thought, did not notice a black limousine has stopped behind her. The man at the back seat heard her sigh, moved his mouth and then closed the recently opened window.

“Drive home.”

“Boss, didn’t you just say you want to send Miss Xue back?”

“No need,” the man said without expression, “capitalists are heartless.”

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.