Multiverse Gacha - Chapter 343: [341] Growth Rate 10%!

You have no memories. You don’t know who you are or why you’re here. But none of that matters.You are one of a thousand chosen, thrown into the Pantheon’s Ordeal, a brutal trial created by the gods. The rules are simple: survive, grow stronger, and uncover the truth about yourself. But this trial is not fair. The challenges will break you. The monsters will hunt you. And the people beside you? They are not your allies, they are your competition.Only ten will make it to the end. The rest will be lost forever. But if you survive, the gods will reward you with power beyond imagination.Now, fight. Endure. Remember who you are.Dune wakes up in a strange, empty place with no memory of who he is or how he got there. All he knows is that he needs to survive.As he faces dangerous creatures, humans, and tough trials, Dune starts to uncover fragments of his past. He meets allies and enemies, each revealing new clues about the mysterious world around him.Driven by a need to remember, Dune pushes through impossible, hoping to reclaim his identity and uncover the truth about world he’s trapped in.

The story begins as our female lead wakes up in a strange room and an unfamiliar body. She realizes that she has travelled back in time and her twenty-two year old spirit is now trapped in the body of a six year old girl. This girl child is the third daughter of Ning Guo’s Prime Minister Li and his seventh wife. Her name is Li Qing Luo and because her mother was originally from an entertainment house, Prime Minister Li and his other six wives treated them badly.

Her first day in that world, the whole family gathers to test the talent of the three daughters. Qing Lei, the eldest, is talented at playing the zither while Qing Fei’s calligraphy is incomparable. Everyone anticipates A’Luo’s failure as she had not exhibited any talent before, but that six year old child recites a famous Tang poem. The entire family is surprised that Qing Luo is able to write such a profound poem and her mother later tells her that Prime Minister Li is so harsh on his daughters because he needs to rely on them marrying well to secure his future. Qing Luo begins to study qin, qi, shu, hua (zither, chess, calligraphy, and painting) but hides her skill because she does not want to be sold in marriage to some prince or court official.

Six years later, A’Luo is now twelve and leaves the estate for the first time to participate at a flower viewing banquet. This is a special banquet because the Five Most Eligible Bachlors of Feng Cheng will be in attendance (there’s actually a more elegant name for them). These young men are: Crown Prince Liu Jian, Fourth Prince Liu Fei, the young An Qing Wang Liu Jue, the son of Prime Minister Gu Gu Tian Xiang, and the top scorer of the Imperial Examinations Cheng Si Yue. A’Luo sneaks off and almost falls into a river, but is saved by a handsome young man. Because he glanced at her bare legs a moment too long, A’Luo calls him a pervert, tries to push him into the river and runs off. The young man only laughs and vows to find her again.

- Description from Novelupdates

“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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