MTL - The Pioneer of the Rebirth Era - v2 Chapter 2064 Store grain in advance

In the spring of year 6823 of the New Calendar, Lu Xuan, an unregistered resident of the Federation, hid outside a high school classroom and secretly learned a Cultivation Skill, embarking on the path of Cultivation.On the same day, he returned home and had a dream, just as he always did. In the dream, he was in the Guardian Storage Room during the Spring and Autumn Period in Chinese history（770-481 BCE）, and the current Keeper of the Records was named Li Er, also known as Laozi.Later, Lu Xuan dreamed that he became the succeeding Keeper of the Records, became Confucius's second teacher, became the senior brother of Zhang Daoling, the Ancestral Celestial Master, and became the honorary father of the First Emperor...Even later, someone unearthed a roll of bamboo slips from the ground, on which an event was recorded.[The eighteenth Keeper of the Records, Lu Xuan, his Sword Qi like a waterfall, assassinated Duke Huan of Qi in his bedchamber]

Enter the Immortal Sect, cultivate the Immortal Dao.Others practice diligently and arduously, but Li Yunjing masters everything in one go, his comprehension defying the heavens.Understand the thunder magic, embark on the path of immortality.Practice the thunder magic, and take on the heavenly calamity.

What if I told you, right now, everything you know about what happens after death is a lie?

What if I told you that there is no afterlife after death, just an endless cycle of reincarnation after wiping your memory?

What if I told you that there is a way out of the cycle of reincarnation and all you have to do is wear a religious artifact, and if you die with it on, you are given the opportunity to reincarnate into a world of your choice while keeping your memories?

Would you take it...or would you continue with the mundane cycle that has gone on since the beginning of time?

This is a story about two brothers, one is a responsible police officer, the other a heartless weeb, who died during WW3 and are offered the opportunity to reincarnate into another world as brothers once more.

Upon their death, they are summoned to a mysterious Realm named the Hall of Gods, where they obtain a Game-like System from the Raven God Odin and The God of Light Yahweh.

Once the system, named The Over-Break System, is installed into their souls, the brothers are Reincarnated into a massive, ever-expanding, technologically advanced fantasy world called Vinestra, as newborn babies with the names, Cynrik and Brance Jetlensr.

But, in Vinestra, things aren't as they seem. Several types of Spatial Tears called “Egresses” frequently open up to an unknown dimension where monsters who drop items when killed spawn.

Cynrik and Brance, under the watchful eye of their respective Deities, learn how to utilize their new system, to become powerful existences who wield Mana like their plaything. But are they in control of their lives, or are the Deities?

((THIS STORY IS WRITTEN IN A VERY SPECIFIC WESTERN FORMAT, WHERE CERTAIN CHARACTERS WILL BE HIGHLIGHTED IN CERTAIN WAYS MORE THAN OTHERS! AT ITS CORE THIS STORY DOES HAVE 2 MAIN CHARACTERS EVEN IF EARLY ON IT DOES NOT SEEM THAT WAY!))

“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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