MTL - General, Madam Called You To Farm - Chapter 844 retribution

“It’s not the people who claim they are evil you should worry about, it’s the ones that claim they are good”.What would a modern-day earthling do if they suddenly open their eyes to find themselves in a cultivation world?Suffering from an incurable disease since young, Yang Chen’s life came to an end due to the malicious stratagems of his relatives.Life, youth, love, wealth, family, he got to enjoy nothing.Bitter at the injustice he suffered, Yang Chen's soul was reincarnated into a whole new world where immortals and divine beings weren’t just myths.This time, he vowed to live a whimsical, self-serving, materialistic life.But what’s this? His starting point was the lowest of the low, a slave that was at the mercy of the Zhang clan.Can this still be called living? Raising a cry in defiance against his destiny, what appeared before him was the Greedvil system.Heaven-Defying Battle Skills, Supreme Pills, Weapons, Armours... anything that Yang Chen wants, can be purchased from the shop.In return, all Yang Chen had to do was commit evil acts. The Greedvil System ran on mischief points, his actions determined the points he earned.The greater the degree of evil, the higher the points!!!Hehe… Now wasn’t that great? Even the heavens want him to become a villain.Equipped with a healthy body and a powerful system, what kind of storms would Yang Chen create?“What’s that, a heavenly constitution? I, your grandfather can buy dozens of them. Beauties? The more the merrier. Villains? Who can hold a candle against me?”This is the story of a villain who sets on a journey to reach the martial peak. He will stomp on all the heavenly sons and pick up beauties on his way.

A terrible calamity has fallen onto Zhang Fan, not only becoming one of the three survivors of Grass Temple Village, where everyone else was horribly massacred, he was also tasked to carry one of the most evil artifacts, the Sinister Bead, and taught one of the most secret teachings of the Skysong Sect, the Brahmin Wisdom. Now he cultivates in the Jadeon Sect, his knowledge and possession will draw him into a chaotic story where he will have to carry some of the greatest burdens of the Martial World.

After a night of indulgence, An Ge became pregnant with the powerful and influential Mr. Huo's child.During the pregnancy, the powerful man frequently drew her blood.In order to save her life and protect the child in her womb, she shocked everyone by saying, “Mr. Huo, I'm carrying your child!”The man sneered, “Are you trying to blackmail me or do you wish to die? If so, I'll grant your wish!”Disheartened, she faked her death and fled with the child.Later, that man, who was always cold and harsh to her, knelt before her grave for three days and nights.Later still, word somehow got out that she faked her death, and he became enraged, locking down the globe in a frenzy to find her.Finally, one day, he cornered her at a wedding, furiously roaring, “You can't marry him, I'm the real father of the child!”An Ge squinted and smiled slightly, “Sorry, who are you?”In the time that followed, he humbled himself into the dust, every night kneeling in front of her bed, begging, “Miss An, please marry me.”

“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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