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... ng Sword Qi (Consummation), Reincarnation Disk (Consummation), Realm of Life and Death (Consummation)...

  Weapons: Sword of Ten Tribulations (x2), Dagger (Ten Tribulations), Sword of Five Tribulations

  Qualification: Hongmeng Eucharist (cannot be upgraded)

   Force of Dusk: 0

  Remaining lifespan: 8.75 million years]

   "Let you wait in the Burial Sky Realm to show your power, if you dare to go to the Chaos Outer Realm, I will kill you!"

  Chen Shen's ...

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After 6,000 years of development by the immortal sect on Planet Earth, all of the leyline spiritual energy was controlled by the country. They only released enough spiritual energy for the cultivators to breathe. If a cultivator wanted to use the spiritual energy to train themselves, they would have to pay the immortal sect for that.

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“Huh? Is this the method to extract one’s Spiritual Root? Also, isn’t this a divine technique?”

“What a powerful cultivator! Please accept me as your disciple!”

As his life in the cultivation world continued, his dream changed.

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Lin Feilu, or better known by her nickname—Green Tea Princess, was the best of all the scheming b*tches that the world had ever seen. She was the Oscar-winning actress among the masses with real life as her stage. Acting coy, slandering, feigning innocence, or playing the saint, she aced it all. Simply put, she was the proverbial villainess.

Ah, but retribution came way too early for this malicious personage and she died on her 27th birthday.

In death, Lin Feilu reflected on her career of 20 years as the Green Tea Princess. She was full of regret and remorse over the life she once led. She vowed, if there was an afterlife, she would atone for her misdeeds and be a good person.

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Harem fight? Striving for favor? Climbing the ranks?

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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.

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

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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?”

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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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