Ah! The Villains I Forced to Turn Evil Can Read My Mind - Chapter 201: The Praying Mantis catches the cicada, and the yellow finch follows

When he returned to the World of Martial Arts, the game was filled with blood and battles! Chen Kaixin had chased after the footsteps of the one emperor, two empresses, three princes, seven dukes, and thirteen aces for three years, but during the eve of the Sword Among Us tournament in Mount Hua, he was ambushed by evil bastards, and was killed so much that his level dropped to that of a newbie. He completely lost the chance to join the ranks of the powerful players in the game! In great disappointment, Kaixin quit the game and got drunk so that he could forget his sadness, but during that stormy night, Chen Kaixin found that he had actually dreamed for a total of three years, because when he woke up again, he woke up to three years ago, when he was still a student.

- Description from Novelupdates

I will not die. Not for someone else.

...

For as long as Kairos could remember, he experienced things twice. Originally, Kairos believed that was completely normal. However, as he grew up, he realized that it was not nearly that simple.

Kairos would experience things one second before they happened. At first, he used it to avoid stubbing his toe or having a plate fall on his head. But as he got older, he realized that being too different from other people was essentially a sin.

And so, Kairos quickly covered his ability up and pretended to be a loner. He let himself get shoved around even when he knew he could avoid it, just to blend in with the crowd.

However, things weren't just left at that.

Along with his strange ability, Kairos always had dreams.

Dreams of a rising red sun.

At first, they were infrequent and more confusing than anything else. But as time went on, he had this same dream more frequently.

And it also became more terrifying.

Kairos would wake up in a cold sweat, not truly understanding why he was so afraid. That is, until one day.

When the red sun rose.

And the apocalypse descended.

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At the age of 12, Shen Yue accidentally fell into a pond while feeding fish. That’s when she realized that her parents were not her real parents, and her five brothers were not her real brothers either. She was just a fake heiress to the Shen family!

Knowing she was destined to lose everything, Shen Yue decided to just lie down and give up. If she was going to lose it all anyway, she might as well just lie down and relax.

“Big brother, is working at the company fun? Let me check it out,” she thought, wanting to enjoy the perks of being a Shen daughter while she still could. Those luxuries would be out of reach soon enough.

“Second brother, is acting fun? Let me give it a try,” she schemed. What? They pay you just to lie still like a corpse? This is a job she had to get!

“Third brother, is that gun realistic? Let me see,” she said, examining the firearm. Not bad, though the recoil is too strong. She’d need to find a smaller one to play with next time.

“Fourth brother, will the teachers be mad if I sneak into your research institute? Let me take a peek,” she plotted, eyeing her handsome professor. A little hugging wouldn’t hurt!

“Fifth brother, that medicine you’re working on smells nice. Mind if I try a little taste…” she asked casually before sampling it. Tastes good! But now my head feels itchy—I better not be growing a brain!

On the day the real heiress returned, Shen Yue’s five brothers shielded her behind them. “Dear sister, can we keep her with us? She’s a bit slow, it’d be dangerous for her out there alone.”

The true heiress scoffed coldly, masking her sly intentions beneath a guise of innocence.

But in the end, she realized this Shen Yue really was quite dim-witted. Oh well, might as well let her stay.

“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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