I Quit Being The Villain - Chapter 178: Coffin

Li Wei accidentally obtained a simulator that allowed him to manage a family of cultivators. He discovered that the descendants in the game would offer him strange and unique sacrifices.“Thanks to the ancestor for the gift, our family has become the most powerful family!”“Hurry up and offer a sacrifice to the ancestor. Please accept this spiritual weapon!”“Ancestor, we have already conquered the immortal world!”Then, one day, the descendants of the Li family, who had been in the game, appeared on Earth in grand flying boats. Under the astonished eyes of the entire world, these descendants paid homage to Li Wei in great numbers.“Welcome our ancestor home!”

Li Xuehao found a secret of monasticism in the cover of the genealogy. After spending ten years, he finally succeeded in building the foundation. Unexpectedly, he was eager to get rid of the evil spirits. After his death, he was born again in Yokohama, Japan, and was attached to Sakura, Tsurumi. The story of the high school student Gao Zhonghao in the college, the story begins here…

- Description from Shubaow (Translated)

In another world called Blue Star, the famous son of wealth, Dorian D. Tian, is thrown into a whirl of unfortunate circumstances, resulting in his death.

His parents had a brutal car accident that left them in a coma, and his uncle had quickly taken over the company, seized the company, making sure that he was financially crippled for good.

With that, the famous young master struggled desperately.

And in the end, he gave in to his despair and depression, leaving the sad, lonely world.

The end?

Heh... Think again!

Because in that brief moment, the lifeless corpse suddenly opened its eyes, revealing a deep calm look.

That's right. Another mysterious soul had entered the body.

But if one thought that this story was just about revenge, then sorry... that wasn't even the half of it!

....

The mysterious entity suddenly triggered an exorcist system.

And from then on, both humans and even those from the underworld shuddered in fear and despair at the mysterious soul's cruelty.

[Humans]: “Demon! Demon! You're definitely a demon!”

[Demons]: “Help! Help! The famous demon wants to eat me!”

[Evil Spirits]: “You!... Are you the one who is an evil spirit or us? Why the hell did it seem like you're the demonic one instead?”

[Ghouls]: “You stay away from me! Stay away from me now, you evil entity!”

[Hellhounds]: “Are you sure that you're not the son of hades?”

The system couldn't help looking at its host in doubt.

Its indicators said that its host was indeed mortal. But why did it feel like something was wrong with its host?

Dorian lightly chuckled in amusement.

He would also like to ask the same question.

What exactly was his identity?

Well, this would be the biggest mystery of all.

But Dorian wasn't in a hurry.

Who were his enemies, and who were his allies?

Soon, he would find the truth.

In the meantime, why not play a little?

“Demon! stay back!”

“Oooo~~~... I... I want to go back to the underworld where it's safe.”

“Run for your lives! The demon is here!”

…..

“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.

The boy, still not fully awakened, gazed at the half-opened glass slab with a mixture of confusion and surprise. As his eyes darted around the room, he became increasingly shocked.

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.

[The Omnistore belongs to you, host.]

……………………………………………………………

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