MTL - StarCraft In the Palm of Your Hand - Chapter 416 3Peak Gathering Paradise City

Yun is a novice MMO player who equipped only unpopular skills labelled as garbage. However, soon after the official launch of the game, the NPCs stopped selling Recovery Potions. Everyone finally started to notice the importance of Support Magic and Items. And that spells trouble for Yun as well as all the other support-based players. They received orders for recovery potion from endless flood of players en masse, some more aggressive players even go as far as forcing the support players to be their personal craftsman. In order to prevent this from going out of hands, all the support players grouped together to form a community to keep things in order.

Mystery is the nourishment that keeps me from being ordinary.

It has been 20 years since he came to a world similar to the modern European background. With his early wisdom, Fei Lin learned a skill and finally became a decent person.

Originally thought that he would marry a wife and have children and live this life in a dull way, but found that there is another world under the shadow of the world.

In that world, there are occultists who practice esoteric techniques and master extraordinary powers.

It is weird to spy on humans in the dark and feed on humans.

There are evil god believers who worship the evil god, please the evil god through bloody sacrifices, and exchange power from the evil god.

There is an evil god who wanders outside the world, peeps at the world, and only infiltrates the power of scales and claws, which is enough to cause people to fall.

With the mystery as nourishment, he is no longer ordinary after 20 years of ordinary.

- Description from novelbuddy

[mafia, crazy love, abusive love]She was reborn, returned to the age of 18, when she already possessed a colossal fortune. In the previous life, she was executed on the street and died tragically merely due to a dangerous man she'd encountered once.After being reborn, she decided to change her fate. As she pondered how to avoid him, she unexpectedly discovered his name on the list of beneficiaries of the charity.“Can I kill someone?” She asked her assistant.“No. The law binds you!”So, to survive in this life, she tricked him back home. Initially, she believed it to be a means of repayment.Until one day, she felt his gaze become terrifying. She saved him, but accidentally led him down a more terrifying path. Everything had spiraled out of control…When they meet again, he is already a terrifying demon. With blood on his face, he forced her into a corner and said, “Be my mistress, or let me be yours.”She threatened him with a knife, but he laughed even more brightly and held her hand, saying, “You're afraid of me? Ok, I'll teach you how to hurt me the most.” And he guided her hand to hurt himself.She suddenly understood that she should have left him alone. He was injured, bleeding, but still laughing.She said lovingly, “I am indeed afraid, but I don't deny that I love you...”

“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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