Supreme Warrior in the City - Chapter 1178 - 1177 Lü Wenbang’s Arrangement

[Exile + farming + space + system + land reclamation + no CP]

I was exiled as soon as I crossed over, but fortunately I have space at my fingertips

Search your home?

Take the air, Chen Xue immediately evacuated the Chen Mansion, from the floor to the bed curtains, not even the garden or lake.

Even thousands of kilograms of food framed by the enemy were moved away.

When the enemy comes to ransack your home.

The enemy was dumbfounded: “Where are the things? Where are the thousands of kilograms of supplies I secretly put away?”

Hand: “Sir, there is nothing in the Chen family except rat droppings.”

Colleague: “Mr. Chen is so incorruptible. He doesn’t even have any food at home, and the whole family even sleeps on bed boards.”

Chen Xue said: “My family is really poor. There is not even a grain of rice in the jar. We are already too poor to open the pot.”

As a result, everyone in the world knew that there was a wealthy Mr. Chen in the capital, whose family was poor and penniless.

Father Chen: “Who said that my family is in poverty and penniless? I’m worried about him!”

Mother Chen: “My daughter said it.”

Father Chen: “Ahem, cough, cough, then it’s okay.”

Chen Xue said that being in exile was very hard, not only exposed to wind, sun and rain, but also not having enough food…

Prisoners and government officials: “Go away, we are the exiles, you are just going on a trip.”

In the exile team, Chen Xue’s family was lying in the carriage, drinking tea, eating preserved fruits, playing Go, growing vegetables in the space in their free time, and exchanging spicy sticks and other snacks from the system. They were so happy.

- Description from novelbuddy

Ning Yue was a military doctor and a special forces soldier. During a mission to rescue hostages, she died from a bomb explosion. Ning Yue thought she was dead, but when she opened her eyes, she had become a woman in ancient times with the same name but a different surname.

This woman’s father was a general, but she lived in the Ning Family Village and was raised by her adoptive parents for more than ten years. A year ago, the people from the general’s residence found her and brought her back. However, they sent her back again a few months later. When the original owner of the body returned to the village, she was pregnant and gave birth to twin sons within a few months.

Another year passed, and the year of the great drought was ushered in. The entire village had to flee. The original owner of the body left with the rest of the villagers with her two sons and slow-witted father. In other words, the current special forces soldier, Ning Yue, was an older single young woman who had not experienced the sweetness of love. She had skipped all those steps, and directly became a mother to two children. She also gained the original owner’s dim-witted father and a body that didn’t work and had hunger pangs after starving for two days. But was that all? Don’t be naive!

“Don’t eat my daughter! Don’t eat my daughter!” The original owner’s father pleaded. “The older one’s meat is too hard, so it needs to be cooked longer. These two small ones have tender meat, so they only need to be roasted for a while. We’ll eat the big one tomorrow!” Ning Yue, who was now being viewed as food, looked up at the sky and said to herself, “Gee, thanks SO much!”

“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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