After Transmigration, Her Whole Family Are Villains - Chapter 2: This brother and sister Have Something Too.

He was the powerful and influential heir of B City, the merciless head of the commercial world, but the divorce papers made him lose his cool.

“Sign the divorce papers, daddy,” said the 5-year-old boy.

This man had the divorce papers thrown in his face by his wife six years ago, and was now being pushed by his own son to sign the papers.

“That would make you a single-parent child,” said Gu Juexi coldly.

“Mommy said unicorns don’t exist but men like you do,” the boy leered at his father and said.

Gu Juexi’s face fell. ‘That damned woman.’

“You haven’t signed the papers,” the boy reminded as the man left. As usual, the door shut in his face.

Good lord… Dad and mom are not getting a divorce and are giving him a baby brother? How worrying!

What people do, heaven sees. Evil-doers will receive punishment. But there is always someone who thought that because they have the protagonist halo, they could do whatever and bully whomever all they want without any consequences. Then, let’s just remove their halo and tear down their mask of hypocrisy. Let those scum men and goody two-shoes experience “putting yourself in other’s shoes”, so they would know they were at fault.

At first, Lu Jingqian thought he had to sacrifice his body in order to complete the task. But there are three benefits in doing so; having great items, living a good life, and having a high face value. After a long while, he also felt quite good… what to do?

System, “Can you be more modest? Please remember when you first rejected the idea, what about those just and upright words you said before?”

Lu Jingqian looked at the sky, “Modest? What’s that? Can it be eaten?”

- Description from Novelupdates

One will to create oceans. One will to summon the mulberry fields.

One will to slaughter countless devils. One will to eradicate innumerable immortals.

Only my will… is eternal.

“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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