The Oracle Paths - Chapter 122 Finally Someone Trustworthy

Tang Han, a junior student of medical university, obtained the inheritance of the ancient Xuanmen medicine king door from the ancestral black ring.

From then on he became a doctor.

He beat ghosts and demons, won countless beauties’ favor, and became the divine doctor King.

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In the continent of Tiandi humans lived amongst beasts, demons, and spirits. Here warriors were as common as the clouds in the sky, and each expert could either cultivate their inner energy known as Qi, or their soul, to form Spiritual Energy.

In the village of Jinwei, Luo Xiao grew up like a beautiful bird locked in a cage. He was weak from birth and unable to leave his bed for an extended period of time, yet his beauty made him well-liked amongst the villagers.

One day disaster struck the village of Jinwei. A Corpse Puppet appeared wanting to eradicate all life. A seal was unlocked, and soon the Corpse Puppet was dead under the hand of the sickly Luo Xiao, but this was not the end of his misfortune.

Right when he thought that the end was coming, a man as handsome as a god descended to the mundane world and took him away.

For the sake of revenge, Luo Xiao sold his soul to this handsome man, but is it only his soul that this alluring stranger took from him?

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Little screenwriter Gu Nian has a secret. She was a big fan of an 18th-tier actor by the name of Luo Xiu. Luo Xiu was good looking but his acting was awful. He had no work for 2 years, the one time that he was on a show, he was mocked to the point that even his own mother wouldn’t admit that he was her son. As such, he dropped straight to 18th tier. Gu Nian, on the other hand, was determined to become a gold medal screenwriter and had him be her dedicated male supporting character. ___ Luo Xiu had a loyal fan. Ever since his debut, she did everything that a fan would — wait for him at airports, vote for him online, and wave banners of his. Other fans would waver back and forth but this girl remained his loyal fan for two straight years. Once she was drunk after they have met each other, she patted him on his shoulder, cried and said, “Son, its okay that you are not backed by big bosses! When Mommy become a gold-medal screenwriter, I will back you!” Luo Xiu: “……” ___ After Gu Nian became a gold-medal screenwriter and signed her contract with a up-and-coming media company, she was summoned to a meeting at their office. She texted Luo Xiu outside of the conference room, “Son! Mommy can back you now! Just you wait!” Soon after she sent the message, she heard a notification chime coming from in front of her. Gu Nian looked up, puzzled, and saw a very familiar handsome face. The secretary introduced the two of them, “Miss Gu, this is our CEO, Luo Xiu.” Gu Nian: …..? Secretary: “Boss Luo, this is….” “No need for introduction, I know her.” Luo Xiu looked up after he finished reading the text. His eyes a dark black color. “This is the boss who has been backing me behind the scene.” Everyone: ….? ? ?

“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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