MTL - Morning of Swordsman Tower - Chapter 199

He was the cold-blooded prince of the Jin country. Decisive and smart, he had looked down on the world with apathy and disdain.

She was his Wang fei, a person who had saved him in the past, but even he wouldn’t look at her.

When the fire raged and death claimed her, it was only then that she realized her existence was nothing but a joke from the beginning.

She opened her eyes once more after spending two years as a roaming, vengeful ghost. In this lifetime, Ye Zhen promises that she will be a different person. With a slight smile, she will ruthlessly trample on those who had schemed against her and lied until her demise!

Most importantly, she would let him experience the pain of an unrequited love; the bitterness of seeking something you cannot obtain!

- Description from Novelupdates

Bai Chuwei has lived for five thousand years, and after becoming an ancestor of all human beings, she descends the mountains and initiates the plot of a novel.A new female student is transferred into Henghua Secondary School Year 3. The young lady has bright eyes, white teeth, red lips and her appearance is similar to an immortal fairy. But unfortunately, she has Eighth-Grader Syndrome.“The wealth of ten Duan Family added together does not even make up half of my combined wealth over the past five thousand years.”“The first classic masterpiece of China? Oh I casually wrote that for fun two decades ago.”“Scientific research isn’t comparable to flying in the skies with a sword. Today, this ancestor here shall teach everyone how to cultivate scientifically.”The online lurkers reveal a snort of contempt and wait to see Bai Chuwei slapping herself in the face after acting so pretentiously. Eventually, the China Property Statistics Association reveals this particular information: The respected ancestor is the richest person in the world, owning the most number of gold mines, hundreds of islands, and countless property worldwide.China Writer’s Association: @Bai Chuwei, Respected ancestor, when will you continue updating your book after having stopped it for two centuries?

When Yohan woke up in the morning, he had a beauty in his lap and in his bedroom. It was like a dream come true for him until reality struck him.

It was then he remembered that he had been cursed by a goddess in the game he had been playing before sleeping. In his sleep-deprived state, he had offended the goddess and as a result, he had been cursed to become a 'no-good' man who could only provide 'support' to the 'heroines' of this world.

Thinking nothing of that curse beforehand, Yohan went to sleep, only to find his world-changing from that day onwards. His normal and mundane life was no longer going to be as such as more and more fantasy creatures began to show up.

And a female voice awoke him with a notification

*Ding dong ding.

Congrats on unlocking the fiction system. From here on, the user will experience the full scope of the logic of the fiction world. May the user use his PP and conquer everyone.*

And it was then Yohan realized - he was no longer in a world governed by science but one that followed the laws of magic. And the only way to survive was to utilize these so-called 'laws of fiction' to his advantage.

And the best and worst part of it all? The more he let his desire go, the stronger he became.

“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.]

……………………………………………………………

Dear readers! Without any ads, maybe you will prefer .