High Martial Arts: Invincible Starts from Basic Archery - Chapter 166 - 165: Traits, Invulnerable! (Please subscribe)

The protagonist, a famous writer in his previous life ― now transmigrated as the Young Lady Gong Zhuoliang from a large wealthy family, found out that this pitiful boy was not only harassed by his step mother, but he was also treated and raised as a delicate girl by his own family ever since he was a child. But not only that, he, as a guy, was even forced to wear a bride’s wedding clothes to substitute his sister.

When the ‘Young Lady’ received news of this, he found it very unbearable for him to accept, and so he jumped into the water to commit suicide. The reborn him pitied Xiao Gong. He originally planned to expose his ‘Mother”s family to his ‘Husband”s family, and allow them to come deal with his family, However, discussing about the pros and cons with his ill Husband had confused him so much.

Reluctantly, he began to live his ‘sexual life’ with his Husband.

Fortunately, although this man is quite frail and autistic, he’s really good-looking, and the other is really set on being a caring husband for his wife. Therefore, either Xiao Gong’s mood would be bad or good, he would immediately close their door, and then push Qiao Xianggong down the bed to do this and that again and again…..

In short! This is a story of Xiao Gong’s growth~

It is also about the history of the overthrow of the Qiao family’s relatives~

–
Lisha’s notes:

Xianggong = Husband; Term for young man

- Description from Novelupdates

He was supposed to transmigrate to a magic world, but due to an accident, he ended up trapped in a massive library. The system assigned him a task: for every book he read, he would be rewarded with mana stones, until he finished reading all the books. A trillion years later, Daniel finally finished the last book! [Ding, detecting that the host has finished the final book. Calculating system rewards.] [Ding, reward calculation complete. Dispatching rewards. The total number of mana stones the host has accumulated: 99999999...9999.] “Damn, am I that rich now?” [Ding, detecting that the host has completed the task. Loading world...] ... Goddess of Fate: “Daniel, my divine realm needs expansion. Could you sponsor me with some mana stones?” God of Storm: “Daniel, the divine punishment is about to descend. Could you lend me some power to help me get through it?”

It was a cold and lonely death on the battlefield despite the thousands of warriors around me and the beating sun shining upon my corpse.

In the year 431, I had died on the battlefield.

I was reincarnated into a new world, hoping my life would be better, but I ended up in a more miserable situation than before.

As the sickness began to eat the insides of my mother, a saving grace that would pull me out of the darkness, but into the abyss... had come.

[A system is being chos-

[Interference by higher being]

[Error]

[Authority is insuffici-

[Error]

[Authority is sufficient]

[Your god has been selected]

[Your system has been granted]

[Ares System is being installed]

“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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