The Abyssal Garden: No Room for the Idle - Chapter 293 - 208 Not So Simple Old Huang

A young girl, who was neglected by her family, accidentally died while protecting a [Child of God] who would save the world. She was offered to be reincarnated into a world identical to the VRMMORPG that she was familiar with by a mysterious entity. That mysterious entity used its power to empower her soul by transforming her previous effort and passion spent in developing and leveling up her game characters into her own powers instead.

However, when she turned three years old, she discovered that the world she was reincarnated into was not the least bit similar to the VRMMORPG world. Furthermore, she was compounded by the revelation that she had become a ‘villainess’ who had raised plenty of death flags.

“God, this is not the world you promised me!?”

A flurry of death flags looms over her from an early age. She is now pitted against a powerful heroine, one endowed with beauty, and blessed with mysterious powers. With the help of her wits and bravery – or rather with the power of her VRMMO character – the girl was able to fend off pe*verted assailants, weather unknown dangers and defy the tragic fate of the game’s Villainess.

Why did that entity reincarnate her into that body? Why did she have to face the trials that the villainess would have to go through? With more questions than answers, what will happen to our said reincarnated VRMMO player?

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A smutty LitRPG with a futa lead.Long-running. Support me at Pat.treon.com/winterwhereof and receive early chapters.***Levels. Skills. Dungeons.As a nineteen year old living in modern society, these are terms Zoey is aware of. But had she ever expected to experience these videogame abstractions in the literal sense? To struggle through monster-infested realms, earning skills, casting spells, and acquiring rare and magical items?Obviously not.And more than the strange environment she finds herself in, Zoey contends with the bizarre reality of her class. Of being summoned by a sensual, perverted goddess who has gleefully bestowed a throbbing length between Zoey’s legs, then sent her off with a single unhelpful instruction: to save the world, and ascend to divinity while doing so.It’s all a bit much.But with so many cute girls to lay conquest to, and a new piece of equipment to help her along the way … well, things could be much, much worse.

Waking up in the middle of that, she nearly screamed—until she saw him.Her cold, obsessive husband. The man she had spent an entire lifetime running from.In her past life, she trusted the wrong people. She abandoned the man who truly loved her and ended up betrayed, ruined, and dead.This time? Ha! Divorce? Dream on.Since fate gave her another chance, she’d play the game her way. Stay mysterious, act sweet, and turn every schemer against each other.And as for the dangerously obsessed husband?Let’s see who traps who first!

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.