The Nebula's Civilization - Letter From The Author

Zero – Where the End BeginsAfter 100 lives—lived as a king, a warrior, a scholar, a knight, and even a slave—he has finally reached the last.Life number 0.No rebirth. No second chances. Only death… or glory.Thrown into the most ruthless and enigmatic world he has ever faced, he must defy its crushing grip, where power dictates fate and survival is a battle against the inevitable. His ambitions collide with the weight of his past, driving him toward a relentless pursuit of absolute control.In Zero, you either carve your destiny… or vanish into oblivion.

You Liangxing would never open the speech function in game.
That was because his voice was…
Particularly! Kittenish!

But there was one day, he queued up with a teammate who had so much to say that they may as well explode. Vexed to the point of no return, he contributed a voice that was capable of splitting heaven and earth, “Don’t BB.”
The other party who was being scolded stilled. In the ensuing silence, he suddenly let out a long, relishing… Moan.
You Liangxing: “…..”

Later —
He realised that the person was a great god,
Much later,
Without him realising,
He became the great god’s royal healer.
…. And also his boyfriend.

- Description from Novelupdates

The elder master in Shen’s refused female secretary to maintain his image，thus the girl, who was beautiful and tough, lost her job. Later, she became the secretary of the young master, a playboy.

As a secretary, she not only had to help the playboy deal with the enemy but also help him deal with women. At the same time, she also had to face suspicion and attacks.

She fought her way to gain his trust and became his best assistant. However, things changed quietly.

She noticed that he was getting closer and closer and wanted to remind him not to cross the line, but he said, “If we don’t cross the line, how can we fall in love?”

- Description from Novelupdates

“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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