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... g studied.

  In fact, this is because Mo Poor ignored the nightmare. He never thought that the nightmare would be a continuous torment, thinking that it would be gone after only nine times.

   What kind of torture is it to co-author? Yes, it was indeed a torment in the dream, but it didn't take long for Mo Poor to wake up, he broke the dream nine times a night, directly and permanently eliminated the side effect.

   "So the nightmare is a side effect? ​​Then I unintentionall ...

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System: Want to live? Want to recover from illness? Want to change Da Zhou’s fate? You only need 998 points to redeem a package guaranteed to cure all diseases and strengthen the body! You don’t need 2400 points, also don’t need 1200 points only 998 points. You won’t suffer losses or be fooled! Welcome to the system of the king of the dead…..

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Ji Jinrong killed all his brothers. At the age of thirteen, he dragged his sick body to the throne and worked conscientiously as a puppet emperor in the hands of the courtiers and eunuchs. Everyone says that the great general Wei Tingjun has wild ambitions, and is intentionally revolting however, Ji Jinrong felt that Wei Tingjun was not staring at the throne but at him, who was sat on the throne!

Ji Jinrong carefully tempted: “If I die you can be the emperor.”

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Ji Jinrong: “…..”

See, it wasn’t his misconception.

So even if it was to just tie the head of the wolf, he (JYR) won’t die easily.

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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.

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*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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