Young Master Fu’s Incredible Real Heiress - Chapter 929 - Just Because of This?

There was once an immortal cultivator fighting for the fate of human beings. Unfortunately, he failed that time; but fortunately got another chance as he was reborn once more as a human, on the earth of 5,000 years ago. With a second chance, he not only would embark on the road of saving all mankind, but also would retrieve his human nature on the new journey that would last for 5,000 years.

- Description from Novelupdates

What would you do if you were told you only had five years to live?Aster Mistral, suffering from an incurable congenital “disease” that saps life force out of his every breath, decided to fight with all his might. Waking up into the future, 2,500 years later, he embarks on a quest to find a cure for his ailment!“My target! To find the Panacea on the 1,000th floor of the dungeon!”Together with trustworthy allies, he forges a path of blood and corpses, building his foundation and increasing his level! However, he can’t stay in dungeons all the time, as he has a duty to fulfill.“To raise the human DNA average of the world, the government wants my seeds?!”Follow Aster on his laidback journey of fighting monsters, courting girls, escaping adversaries, and discovering secrets about himself!

Elaine Monroe never meant to fall in love with him. She never meant for her heart to betray her like this. But as she watches him stand beside another, hand resting on the waist of the woman he’s meant to be with, she wonders if she was always destined to be the outsider.“You knew,” she says, voice barely above a whisper. “You knew how I felt.”His jaw tightens, but he doesn’t deny it. He never does.“It wouldn’t have changed anything,” he finally says.She laughs bitterly. “I know.”Loving him was always impossible. He belonged to someone else. To his family’s expectations. To a future where Elaine had no place.“Forget whatever you think you feel,” he tells her, voice firm, but there’s something unspoken in his eyes—something that makes it hurt even more. “It will never happen.”And yet, his gaze lingers, just for a second too long.Then there’s her best friend—the one who stands beside her when the world turns its back. The one who sees her pain without asking.“You don’t have to do this to yourself,” he says, handing her his jacket on a cold night. “You deserve more than waiting for someone who will never be yours.”She wants to believe him. She wants to move forward. But some loves are impossible to forget. Some wounds never truly heal. And some desires, no matter how forbidden, refuse to die._____“loving him best decision i ever made” Elaine“you are my world”

“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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