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... s virtually engulfed in an instant, disappearing without a trace.

The terrifying pressure of the four symbols true spirits also completely vanished under this combined attack.

Chi Shang felt akin to being relieved of a heavy burden and said, “I really didn’t expect that killing a measly little Emperor Sakra Heaven actually needed this seat to use Wrath of the Blood God! With this, without a thousand years of cultivation, I can forget about recovering to my peak state!”

Me ...

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Jianjing was reborn into a parallel world and became a genius novelist.Or rather, the soon-to-be deceased young genius novelist…[System Warning]: You committed su*cide, estimated time of death in 10 minutes.[Mandatory Mission]: Escape from the enclosed room.[Reward and Punishment]: Successful escape means the author continues the story, failure means the story is abandoned.Jianjing: WTF?!System: This is just the beginning, face the storm ahead!Jianjing’s view of herself: An ordinary bestselling novelist.Others’ view of her: “Novelist Detective”, “Honorable Citizen for Bravery and Justice”, “Police Consultant”, “Surprise Guest for Horror House Shows”, “Human Representative Against Unknown Creatures”…

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Upon waking up, Ruan Xia had transmigrated into a webnovel that she had stayed up all night to finish reading. She had become the villain’s mother.

In the novel, after the death of her first husband, the original owner of the body had hooked up with a Mr. Perfect at the fastest possible speed. Worried and discontent that her son from her first marriage would become a burden on her, she heartlessly abandoned her son.

Having once held the best quality script and informed of future events, Ruan Xia looked at her still alive first husband as well as her future villain son. She sighed. She wanted to apply for a different script!

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The Omnistore SystemChapter 492: Equally embarrassing regalia (R-18)
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“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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