MTL - Transmigrated To Ancient Times To Farm And Build A Kingdom - Chapter 1334 lol broke the record

Meet Damon CrossAs a child, Damon Cross had to deal with the horrible realities of domestic violence and being homeless.He and his mother, who had always been there for him, struggled to find security.After losing his first backyard fight, When Damon gets a new MMA system, his luck changes dramatically.This mysterious system becomes his guide, improving his skills and raising him into the world of mixed martial arts.He learns more about mixed martial arts and gets better at it with the help of this system.With this renewed strength, Damon is determined to not only move up in the fight world, but also make a better future for both of them as a way to repay his mother for what she did.[YOU HAVE AWAKENED THE EMMAC SYSTEM][CONGRATULATIONS TO HOST FOR BECOMING A DOUBLE CHAMP]witness how Damon goes from a Bum to a Champ.Romance: YesFights: Yes

I seem to have reincarnated in the world of an r-rated romance fantasy novel. And not just as an ordinary character, but as the witch who loses her life to the crazy male lead!

Luckily there is a long 200 years until the main characters are born and grow into their roles.

Now that my life is not in imminent danger, shall we leisurely think of ways to avoid death?

However, I had not taken notice of a very important detail about the time I’d be spending ‘safe from imminent danger’. 200 years was by no means a short waiting period and by the time the younger version of the male lead appeared in front of me , I had completely forgotten the original novel’s plot!

Oh, whatever, now that it’s come to this, the only way to survive is to raise the male lead into a sane and stable adult! The first step to avoiding death by the hands of the tyrant male lead is changing this extremely frightened child’s life.

“It must be very inconvenient for you to have me suddenly show up on your doorstep, I’m sorry. You can tell me to go away, I’ll be fine.”

“Nonsense. Do I look like someone who could be inconvenienced by a little boy like you? Also, what do you mean by you’ll be fine even if told to go away? It’s not like you have anywhere to go back to, kid.”

The little boy burst into tears.

‘Oh, this is so not it.’ Was what the witch thought to herself as the little boy sobbed

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]

“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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