Super Dimensional Wizard - Chapter 890: View of the Beholder

Shen Huai was abandoned by his artists, and took over one who no one was optimistic about net black newcomer Ye Cang.

Ye Cang caught fire all over the country. Everyone else thinks it’s Shen Huai tune. Only Shen Huai knows. His artist is a superstar reborn. Later, Shen Huai gathered again-“the legendary film queen of the period of the Republic of China,” the unsurpassed “Golden supporting role” in the history of China, “the Queen of Love songs popular all over the country in the Last Century,” and “the greatest superstar in a hundred years.” he breathed a sigh of relief: I don’t have to go back and inherit tens of billions of dollars

The Heavenly Demon, Baek Jung-hyuk, woke up as the eldest son of the Dmitry family.

He was known as the fool of the Dmitry family. He was trampled on by the second son. What people thought of him didn’t matter.

The Heavenly Demon. No, Roman Dmitry, cannot live a normal life.

She was transmigrated into a novel where she became the cannon fodder who abused the male lead and ultimately suffered her demise under said male lead. And to return back home, she had to obtain the city boundary map first.

Ye Mu doesn’t want to play a game! Now that she’s inside the book with such a plot, the only way around her death is to kill the male lead first and let this world collapse!

However, upon seeing a scraggly, skinny little boy whose brows were full of perseverance, her hand won’t move…

Well then, she would subdue the male lead’s tyrannical tendencies! How to do it? Raise the male lead and have him help her find the city boundary map? That’s a good idea!

Despite raising him properly, the male lead seems to have grown into a devious man who won’t listen to her. Moreover, he lures her over with the city boundary map.

“Do you want this or not? Then come to my bed.”

Her face was full of tears. Where was the promised honest and upstanding monarch? Does she have to raise him all over again?

The man smiles and pats her on the head, “Come on, stop crying. Wash and go to bed.”

“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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