My Slayer System: Rise to Supremacy - Chapter 374: Make an entrance!

“Shameless Xia Ping, not only did you steal my martial arts manual and medicinal pills, you even took my fiancée! We’re not finished!”

“He’s the embarrassment of the Martial Way and a parasite of the human race. A complete scumbag.”

“There’s nothing that he won’t do. Not only would he not help an old person cross the road, he would even steal the lollipop of a three year old.”

“He causes problems everywhere. All of the geniuses of those big families have been beaten up by him before. Now, he’s no longer tolerated by either humans or gods!”

Countless martial arts experts of Yanhuang Star hated Xia Ping down to the very bone. They were just itching to completely crush him into pieces.

As for Xia Ping? Facing the hatred of so many people, he just calmly pulled up the interface of the “Grand Hatred System” and looked at all the wonderful things there. He rubbed his chin, “I’ve already saved up so many Hatred Points. What should I exchange for now? Saint-grade medicinal pills? Or perhaps that Primordial Pill? The peerless martial art skill, Tathagata Palm also seems pretty good too. But then there’s that divine weapon, the Cosmic Cauldron. It really is too difficult to choose!”

- Description from novelupdates

A weary historian dies and finds himself in a different world awakened in a life as the notorious young Duke of a southern state. His nation is weakened, his army underfed, and his neighbors revolve around his lands menacingly. No one believes his land is going to hold out until winter.But this newfound duke is no naive simpleton his enemies recollect. He carries with him the experience of centuries of war and empire, of starting and ending monarchies. From Caesar to Napoleon, from the Mongols to world wars, he has learned from each of them—and his strategy is to make history his very own arms.He organizes his smashed levies into well-trained formations, rebuilds his castles, and turns his villages into supply centers. Where others see defeat, he senses opportunity. As he triumphs, rumors spread: of a pennant red as winter snow that shall not go to ground, of a bloody duke who writes his name in gore and flame.Is he a savior who's constructing a new empire, or a tyrant who's going to bring the world to endless war?

The young man living in a frontier mining village, Elliott, lived in estrangement there.

The reason was because he carried the blood of the Demon Race, and had an unusual face, with two small horns growing from it.

Several years after his mother – his only family – died, a young woman who called herself an acquaintance of her mother’s came to visit, and once she knew of Elliott’s existence, displayed the traits of a succubus, and whispered thus:

“From now on you will ravish many women, steal many lives, and trample over the world, you shall dominate. But to start … you will dominate me, violate me, please”.

Unable to wield a sword, nor kill his opponents with magic, the mixed-blood young man who could only grant a slight bit of magic into matter, used information, tools, and traps, repelling enemies, ravishing women, making them submit and fall into demonhood, and dominated them, surviving in a ruined world.

This is the story of the young man who was the Lord of the perilous place of fear, one that never allows a guest to leave, the “Man-Eating Dungeon”, and the women whose lives had been derailed by him.

“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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