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... front of him, which he had removed from the magic treasure.

   "What a special material." Wu Yuan stroked the token with his fingertips, feeling extremely warm and comfortable.

  Once you get started, it makes people reluctant to put it down.

  Suddenly.

   "Huh!"

  A wisp of true energy suddenly sprang out from the fingertips, then wrapped around the cyan token, and then exploded suddenly! Want to break the entire token!

   It's just that Wu Yuan's burs ...

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Si Fuqing opened her eyes to find that her luck has been stolen. Everyone wanted her out of the entertainment industry too.

After getting a second chance at life, she just wanted to do nothing this time. Yet, some people who didn’t know their place kept trying to rub off on her fame without any genuine talents to show for. This wouldn’t do. She had to do something about them.

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At first, Yu Yao paid no mind to Si Fuqing. But when he later learned the truth and regretted, even getting down on his knees so Si Fuqing would look his way again, he could only post a status on social media saying, [#SiFuqing, Hello, Ninth Aunt].

That day, the internet was paralyzed.

In the records of history, Emperor Yin rose to fame at a young age. He was perfect, powerful, and benevolent. Yet, he died at the age of 27 due to illness, having lived only a short life with no wife or children. He was an unattainable Adonis for many.

No one knew that when he opened his eyes once more, he woke up in the future where 1500 years had passed.

This time, he saw tall buildings that he had once imagined before.

Shortly after, Emperor Yin’s identity was exposed. When Si Fuqing learned that her idol was within arm’s reach, she was so impressed that she wanted to…

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Si Fuqing: ??? ‘Here I am trying to work hard, but you want me instead?’

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From being scorned on the internet, to being crowned as number one while she fought her Adonis one-on-one.

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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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