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... north and south.


It is a huge trade route said to be twelve thousand kilometers from start to end, connecting the east and west of the continent.


It is said that if one were able to bring a wagon full of spices from the east to the and sell it to the west, one would be able to spend their whole lives with a little luxury from the profits.


Nevertheless, if one would dare to do such feat individually, they would only be preyed ...

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In her previous life, Mu Yanxi fell in love with Yi Jingming like a bewitch, flattered him, and cared so much for him. Only after she died did she realize that she was just cannon fodder in a certain novel, and she deserved everything to make the protagonist.
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Mu Yanxi was confident and chattered nonchalantly. She touched the roof of her tongue with the tip of her tongue, and her eyes, which were red from running, flickered: “I like you so much, of course I want to marry you.”
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Yi Wulan: …
Later, on the night of Yi Wulan’s recovery, Mu Yanxi, who failed to escape, was forced to bite the divorce agreement and cry, her eyes turned red.

Yi Wulan (attack) VS Mu Yanxi (receive)
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Content tags: City Love Rich Family Rebirth Sweet Text
Search keywords: Protagonist: Mu Yanxi; Yi Wulan ┃ Supporting roles: Bai Yu’an; Mu Yanqing; Yi Jingming; Yan Che ┃ Others:

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Edible Guidelines:
1. The male protagonist is handsome, A and playful, no CP, no emotional drama, there is a problem with the female protagonist in this article, the reason for the setting is not explained, and the three views of the female protagonist do not represent the three views of the author
2. All the worlds in this article are empty, and the party retreats.
3. The author, glass heart, is a primary school student, freeing himself, rejecting human attacks and steel bars, and abandoning the text without notice, you can press the return button.
4. I beg you, collect the author or comment on it, qaq can punch in the card and sprinkle flowers, give the author a little motivation!

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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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