Mythical Era: My Evolution into a Celestial Beast - Chapter 711: The Silver Time Butterfly and the Ancient Arena (II)

Lin Qingge’s body was pathetically weak, so weak that just taking a few steps would make him gasp for breath. His own family treated him like he didn’t exist. His birth mother died when he was young and his father promptly remarried and knocked his stepmom up. His father didn’t like him, his stepmom looked askance at him and his step siblings coveted his position. Who told him to be the lawful eldest with inheritance rights?

When Lin Qingge was eighteen he came out of the closet, creating a huge rift between him and his family. It was all for that guy, Liu Yang. He’d whispered sweet nothings in his ear, saying things like he’d protect him and bs like that. Lin Qingge’s old man blew his top when he found out and promptly disowned him. That didn’t matter to Lin Qingge, he had Liu Yang afterall. He fully believed in that guys words and goodwill.

If only he wasn’t so stupid…

Ultimately Liu Yang was like a vampire sucking his wealth dry, leaving a husk behind. After pushing Liu Yang to a high position, Lin Qingge finally collapsed in his apartment. It was a sad sorry sight. Closing his eyes, he knew this was the end of him. Who knew he would wake up instead in a different time and a different place?

Eh? What’s this? Well fine! This time I’m gonna hug that brother’s thigh real tight and never let go!

- 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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