My Apocalypse Territory - Chapter 578 - 513: Earning Money Without Missing Out on Intelligence

Within the Huang Realm, a world where the era of divinities has ended and the era of immortals is nearing its waning years, exists the Buzhou Immortal Sect. And within the Buzhou Immortal Sect on Jade Peak was a disciple of the sect, Xi Tianyi. He was of noble birth, the only child of the Sword Empress who reigned invincible.

But the truth was that Xi Tianyi, was originally an ordinary mortal from Earth who suddenly woke up one day as in another world filled with immortals and demons. Under heavy pressure, knowing that his life is at stake to whoever is strongest, Xi Tianyi quietly cultivates in hopes of one day fearing no one and discovering the circumstances of his transmigration. But…

«You bastard, you stole my fiance!» Said a former genius who had lost all his cultivation.

«Bastard, pay with your life for the death of my entire clan!» Said a cultivator with blood leaking from his hatred filled eyes.

«What the hell?! I’ve been cooped up cultivating quietly so why are you guys suddenly finding trouble with me?! Besides, I’m only ten!» Cried out Tianyi in disbelief.

«Fine, if you want to make me your cannon fodder, I’ll step on your corpses for my ascension!»

Li Feng found himself in a dangerous demonic sect where he could be killed at any moment. But he was worried as he had his ultimate upgradation system.Blood Essence Pill -> Blood Origin PillTurtle Breathing Mantra -> Xuanwu's Great IsolationPhantom Spirit Fox -> Nine Tailed Celestial FoxJust like that, Li Feng was confident that he would be able to become stronger at a very fast pace and would be able to survive in this dangerous demonic sect. Not only that but as his parents were killed by some of the disciples of this demonic sect, he was also going to take his revenge on them. With his system's assistance, Li Feng was confident to reach the pinnacle of cultivation.

“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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