MTL - I’m a Saiyan, You Say I Have No Blood Following Limit? - Chapter 88

The new article [Dressed as an 80-Power Woman] is being serialized, welcome to collect, thank you for your support! ~~~

Xiao Yunyi, who was born with a golden spoon in the 21st century, traveled through the space with her golden finger due to a plane crash, and when she woke up, she became Zhan Yunyi, the second daughter-in-law of Huaiyang Houfu of Longteng Kingdom, an overhead world.

Because three years ago, my father took his younger brother out to run errands. On the way back to the house, he lost his seven-year-old son-in-law because of nosy business, and the husband and wife became strangers since then.

The mother was exhausted, and at the end of her life, she tried her best to arrange a way back for her daughter.

Auntie Dafang and the mother and daughter not only need to calculate her already engaged fiance, but also want to work with Auntie Erfang to calculate her mother’s dowry. It’s really ‘tolerable or unbearable’ since you all want it, let you get your wish. .

But slowly found that things are not so simple, see how Yunyi finds his lost brother in this overhead world, cultivates a dragon and a phoenix in an adult, and helps the original owner and mother to avenge the hatred.

Behind him, Prince Rui, known as the iron-blooded cold-faced god ‘The King of War’ in the legend, silently protects him and sees how Yunyi lives in this life.

- Description from novelbuddy

Chen Mo a game designer got sent to a parallel world with advance technology but undeveloped game concepts.

Qin Huai crossed into the mysterious fantasy world where demons were rampant and heroes were rising. He had no background or cultivation qualifications until the day he became a medicine store apprentice and started to cultivate with his fellow apprentices.

He found that the experience orbs actually fell out of his master and brothers.

He learned to grind medicine with his brothers.

“Ding! ‘Medicine Art’ Experience+3!”

His Master and brothers practiced martial arts.

“Ding! You picked up an ‘Essence of Qi Cultivation (White)’, ‘Qi Cultivation’ experience +3!”

He killed the bandits in the mountains and picked up their cultivation.

“Ding! ‘Astringent Breath Technique’ experience +13!”

His master said that the technique was not good at attacking, had a cultivation limit, and could only prolong life.

But when Qin Huai picked up the experience until the Astringent Breath Technique was 50 times stronger, his body took a tremendous change. A gentle push of his hand was like a wave. He could now both attack and defend.

People said that when two kinds of cultivation methods clashed, continuing to cultivate would lead to the death of the cultivator.

However, when Qin Huai picked up experience and directly skipped the cultivation process, he found there were no side effects at all!

When Qin Huai practiced more and more cultivation methods, he suddenly found that those methods interacted with each other in his body and became stronger skills.

…

Qin Huai, who could pick up experience, began to wander among the major powers.

He saw flesh growing from white bones and the dead revived.

He saw demons cooking 10,000 people and exuding extremely evil energy.

He saw the Buddha statue chanting in the temple. Sanskrit sounded like a mantra.

Qin Huai silently picked up experience in order to settle down in the chaotic world.

“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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