The Young Master’s Bride - Chapter 18

Legend has it that the world’s most formidable man Xu Shuangtze owned a cherished portrait of his deceased wife. But no one knew that on its back was another portrait of his arch rival who Xu Shuangtze had killed with his own hands.

Sixteen years ago, the Chief of Immortal Alliance’s Department of Discipline, Gong Wei, brought a blade with him on the Immortal Ascension Platform. His assassination of Xu Shuangtze failed and he was slain on the spot by the sword named No Way Out.

Sixteen years later, Gong Wei opened his eyes and found himself reborn in the body of a beautiful fool who even had to kneel down when talking to Lord Xu.

This was not the only disturbing thing for him.

Because of his ravishing good looks, remarkable power and status as well as his premature death in his previous life, he was now the beloved muse of countless writers. Books and stories featuring him as the main lead to all kinds of relationships were circulated far and wide. Even among the famous sects there were rumours of his forbidden encounters with every sect leader…

- Description from Novelupdates

An old baseball player gets another chance to live the sport he loves, but this time as a system! The son of one of Japan's greatest pitchers has a dream to follow in his father's footsteps and become a great professional, but he has a major problem, lack of talent.Follow the journey of Shun Takahashi, a young baseball player without talent who receives the old baseball player system. Hellish training, legendary skills, impossible missions, good friends, talented rivals, and maybe luck in love. Shun and the system have a complicated relationship, but they both share the same goal, to be the greatest of all time!

“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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