PREVIEW

... ansion.


The Ji Mansion was an old-style bungalow on Binghe Road. The bright red and gray brick had been weathered by years of wind and rain, becoming spotted and faded. The decorative flowers carved along the porch and the windowsills were no longer blooming, and the shade-loving plants growing in the shadows of the house, shielded from the sun, had become monsters secretly consuming it. The tall steel doors of the garden gate hung crookedly, and could not keep people out. The whole b ...

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The final article “Rebirth of the 80s hot wife is a bit sweet” new book “Transforming into the pocket treasure of the 80s boss”

Traveling back to the 1980s, the scumbag family bullied her?

“It doesn’t matter, I have a strong natal family behind me, and there is no need to negotiate if I am overwhelmed by my strength.

Not enough to eat or warm to wear? How can it be?

She has a golden finger and enjoys a good life.

The cold-faced man who always helped her silently said: “Can you stop being so close? Do you also want a divorced woman?”

Gu Changfeng looked at her dotingly and said, “From the first moment I saw you, I knew you were my destiny.”

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“Rebirth of the 1980s with a Strong Wife” and “Traveling Through the 1980s”

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The Omnistore SystemChapter 465: Broken worlds pieces (R-18)
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“Coming live to you, from Cerou Street, this is MBP News, and we have an unfolding situation to report. Late last night, at approximately 3:00 AM, an explosive-like sound reverberated through this area, disrupting the sleep of residents and instilling fear in their hearts,” the news anchor, a striking figure, delivered the report with poise, standing before the camera amidst a bustling scene.

In the background, the blaring horns of ambulances and police vehicles disturbed the serenity of the beautiful morning light. Two individuals wearing protective suits, presumably forensic experts, held a stretcher carrying a charred body.

The news anchor, who had been reporting earlier, placed a hand on her ear, fitted with an earpiece, and looked visibly surprised. Her voice filled with urgency as she continued, “We have just received an update from our headquarters regarding the sole fatality in this unexpected incident. The victim of this tragic event is none other than Norman, the famous gigolo of Night palace.”

“My colleague, who was set to cover an event today at Nightplace, obtained this information firsthand from Countess Maria, who held a special place for Norman in her heart. Our focus this morning is on this breaking news,” the female news reporter continued amidst the chaotic scene, while Norman's charred body lay alone in the ambulance.

Meanwhile, in a different world, a young boy lay fast asleep with his head on the table. The sun, seemingly displeased with the boy's carefree slumber, cast its rays directly onto his face. Annoyed by the intrusion, the boy shifted his head in another direction, unwilling to be roused from his deep sleep.

*ZZZr Zzrz Zzrzzr* However, an additional source disturbed his sleep, filling the room with a buzzing sound. The boy furrowed his brows in annoyance, his eyes still closed. He searched his surroundings and discovered a glass-like slab. With closed eyes, he slid his finger across it and placed it near his ear.

“Hello...” he mumbled in his drowsy voice, which carried a hint of depth.

“Hey, Pissed-up Prat, where are you?” a voice laced with disdain emanated from the slab.

The boy, referred to as the “Pissed-up Prat” by the irritating female voice, recognized it as a voice he heard frequently but couldn't recall its owner. With his eyes still closed, he inquired, “Who is this?”

“What do you mean, 'who is this'? Wake up, come home, or eat shit for breakfast if you prefer!” the voice behind the transparent slab retorted before falling silent.

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As he recollected the fragmented memories from the night before he lost consciousness, his gaze fell upon the entrance of the shop. Once old and damp, it now bore a different appearance. While not transformed into a luxurious space, it had undergone improvements compared to its previously dilapidated state.

The shop took on a rectangular shape, with one longer side adorned with wooden shelves intricately patterned. Rows of empty glass jars lined these shelves. On the opposite side, there was another wooden shelf, also displaying empty jars. Towards the beginning of the counter, where the boy had been sleeping, there stood a peculiar machine.

Confusion etched across his face, he murmured to himself, “Whose shop is this?”

In response to his question, a mechanical voice resonated in his mind.

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“If there existed a horrendous ghost among the hwarangs, who would it be? Of course, it’d be Seol Yeong-rang who uses necromancy to call upon ghosts!”

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