Cultivating by picking up attributes, I accumulate my strength! - Chapter 223 - 140: Using the Primordial Spirit to

Rocco Di Malvento lived a short, but loving life in his previous world, surrounded by a caring family. Despite suffering from a terminal illness, he found solace in books, especially his favorite BL novel >. But when he dies, he wakes up in an unexpected new life—as the weak, neglected second son of a powerful mafia family.Now reborn in the world of the novel, Rocco finds himself in a terrifying situation: he's the useless younger brother of Sylas, the main protagonist, and likely doomed to die young unless he changes the course of his life. So, what's his plan? Simple—befriend the protagonist, avoid being a spoiled brat, and secretly recruit Sylas's future allies to protect him.First target? Georgio the Hyena, an infamous killer. Rocco's strategy: charm the terrifying man and make him his ally instead of Sylas’s.It's a ridiculous plan, but hey, at least Rocco is trying. Can he survive the mafia world and avoid his tragic fate? He hopes so. After all, he’s just a kid trying to make the most of his second chance!

Lothur Ritter mysteriously died on Earth and suddenly transmigrated to a bizarre cultivation world.

Now in a new body, full of problems related to his predecessor and surrounded by uncertainties and doubts about his new reality, Lothur will face the arduous journey of cultivation with the help of a system.

However, can he trust the system? Why he? What is so special about him that it has been chosen? Where will he end up? And what about this Lost Tree?

Well, Lothur will pursue these questions while exploring the wonderful, vicious, and incomparable cultivation 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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Mu Yangling was reborn in the family of Orion. He thought he could live a simple and happy life. Who would have thought that a military disaster had nearly destroyed their family. His father was classified as a military household, and their family accompanied them to farm the fields.

Unfortunately, they could not even tell the seedlings of grains. Qing, looking at his mother and younger brother who were about to cry without tears, Mu Yangling raised his chest and said, “It’s okay, I have the strength” and some agricultural theoretical knowledge from a thousand years later.

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