Previous chapter: Chapter 760
Next chapter: Chapter 762
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... ction of the driver's seat.

Upon hearing the gunshot, He Mei's heart was thrown into disarray. It was as if a glass jar filled with hope had been mercilessly broken, leaving behind only fragments on the ground.

She instantly fell into despair, her eyes wide open as she stared at Ye Si Ze's face, her face filled with terror.


However, everything was not as pessimistic as she had imagined. The driver was not killed, and the bullet quickly passed through his ear and entered the ba ...

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In the real world, martial arts have resurged. Chen Sheng, tired of city life, returned to his hometown and awakened an attribute panel, along with a skill.

[Body of Breakthrough: Through training, your physical qualities have limitless growth, and the training effect will not diminish.]

One year later, Chen Sheng held his breath and focused his energy, lightly striking his fist towards the mountain in front of him. In an instant, the mountain crumbled and the earth split. The mountain disintegrated instantly.

“Did you see that?”

“That's the Crumbling Fist of Thousand Move Fists.”

“Once you reach this level, you can be considered an entry-level practitioner.”

The disciples were dumbfounded.

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“Knowledge is Power, But What If The Wise Won't Use It?”

Ethan Riddles - A genius among geniuses who never tapped into his true potential because of his sheer laziness and not having any ambition at all.

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“I Can At Least Live a Carefree Life In This New World As a Noble.”

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Ethan who simply likes to sit below the trees and watch the drifting clouds as the cold breeze blows over his face—now must use his wisdom and intelligence to protect himself and his family from the enemies.

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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.

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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.

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“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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- Description from Novelupdates