Beneath the Dragoneye Moons - Chapter 565: Happy Birthday!

Lin Ziyin, modern day mechanical professor especially hired by the school, had the potential for great achievement in her field. However, due to family reasons, she could only treat her mechanical research and teaching as a secondary job, pouring all her energy into the farm and the food business before. Despite her low-key approach, she was unable to suppress her sister's rage, and a furious car crash sent her straight to ancient times.Indeed, she had excellent character, so why did the heavens send her to the sparsely populated Northern Land. Known as the death zone, those who were banished to this borderland would spend their lives and perish there. However, Lin Ziyin was quite satisfied with her own identity. Even if she had lost the protection of her parents, she still had the protection of her siblings and grandfather. Of course, she also had her younger brother and nephew at home who needed her protection. This abundance of familial love was enough to compensate for the hardships caused by poverty at home.Poverty, she wasn't afraid of, as she had experience in farming. With large swathes of uncultivated land, the Northern Land was practically custom-made for her. The heavy workload didn't matter either, she was proficient in designing all kinds of small tools. Whether it was the emperor's absurdity, not providing aid to the border king, or the shameless Tatars that would rob them frequently, none of these posed a problem for her. She could think of solutions for everything. It wasn't uncommon for the border king to tell everyone how lucky he was to have married such a wonderful queen!

superhuman powers awakened and the world changed, yet Jade remained as he was—the ever so heedless, unbothered, emotionless, and weird guy manning the cash register.But some people deemed him lucky because he seemed to be unaffected by all those happenings. But would they still believe that when Jade came home one day from his night shift, tired and hungry, to find a dungeon gate right inside his house?The worst thing that could ever happen to him was get sucked in that gate, however, instead of the gate, strange Seekers are sucking up to him instead.Jade: Why is this happening?!Seeker 1: Help me go back to my world and I can give you everything you wish for.Seeker 2: I don’t care about going back to that damned world, so can you just let me stay here with you?Seeker 3: Jade, honey, you’re the best Minder! I need you, so come with me to my world.And so on… these Seekers are all lunatics forcing him to help them go back to their respective worlds! But how can Jade do that, when all of them were just mere characters from books?!Now, what will Jade do?

“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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