The Tycoon God of Online Gaming - Chapter 19: Leading People and Lobbying

Lin Xing has the ability to turn back time.Whenever he faces a life-threatening danger, he would return to the past.He falls to his death, and returns 5 seconds earlier.He is killed by a falling object, and returns 1 minute earlier.He is struck down by a dump truck, and returns 20 minutes earlier.Then one day... he finds himself having returned to one year ago.

Summary 1) Tang Yuan suffered from a strange illness, so because of this, Tang Yuan pounced upon Xie Yu. A month later, Tang Yuan discovered that Xie Yu was a big shot in the world of tianshi (Taoist Masters), his existence the greatest fear of numerous ghosts. But that big shot was now obligated to marry him, because he was carrying the big shot’s steamed bun.

One year later:
Xie Yu: “Isn’t it time for our pup to be born?”
Two years later:
Xie Yu: “Don’t worry about it. Maybe you’re carrying a nezha (protection deity who was carried for 3.5 years in mother’s womb)?”
Three years later:
Xie Yu: “You really are probably carrying a nezha!”
Ten Years later:
Xie Yu: “Shall we not just give birth to this child? Since he’s obviously not ready, let’s beat him up!”
Pup: “I will remember this animosity for the rest of my life!”

After being carried for ten years and one month, the steamed bun was finally born. The steamed bun was white and tender at birth, extremely loveable. But on just his first day after being born, the steamed bun kicked his father, Xie Yu, in the face with his tender foot.

Summary 2) After Tang Yuan became pregnant with a steamed bun, life was a little difficult, with catching ghosts and also giving prenatal education to their child, yes, prenatal education. But he did teach, he taught for ten whole years. Then Tang Yuan said: Who wants a bratty steamed bun? Who wants me to give them one?

Shou, Tang Yuan, a heavens-defying genius VS Gong, Xie Yu, with off the charts gentleness

Not a scientific/natural pregnancy, no pregnant belly, the steamed bun is born in the final arc (though the steamed bun often appears), fluffy supernatural story, try not to be too scared.

- Description from Novelupdates

[December/January WPC Entry, support it by adding it to your library or giving powerstones]

Kaine didn't have the best life on earth: no friends, no family, no lover.

The only thing that he liked was the novel he read daily, “Descent of the Heavenly Demon”.

But what was Kaine's reaction when an astral entity told him that he died in his sleep and that he would be reincarnated somewhere with a system.

As you guessed it, he is now in the world of the novel he read with all the information he needs to live a good life.

But...

[Anger issues detected, rewarding accordingly]

“What do you mean anger issues?”

[Hatred System activated.]

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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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