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... en, a cute and obedient young girl got out of the car.


She respectfully went to the other side and opened the car door.


Kacha, Kacha, countless cameras flashed.


A man wearing a triangular headgear walked out of the car.


He was holding a sharp wooden stick in his hand.


On the wooden stick, mottled bloodstains were faintly discernible.


He lightly tapped the wooden stick in his hand, ignoring the cameras and everyone else.

< ...

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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.

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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Everyone in the world of cultivating immortals knows that Immortal Venerable Moon Lin is arrogant and arrogant, shining like the moonlight, but he is helpless and cold, rejecting people thousands of miles away.
In this regard, Mu Chuihan himself has something to say.
Hundreds of years of high-cold people assume that he is tired of playing, and is preparing to let go of himself and change his body to play in the world.
However, it seemed that something went wrong with the avatar that he squeezed by himself – it turned out to be a top-level furnace body waiting for auction.
Mu Chuihan: So exciting.
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After seeing Ye Tingjiang, Mu Chuihan’s eyes lit up.
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“Can Xianjun have a marriage match?”
“Come, come, come, come, come, the top furnace cauldron, the old man is not deceived, who knows who uses it!”

Attack angle
Ye Tingjiang hated two types of people in his life. One was like the moon approaching immortals, and his eyes were higher than those of the top born. The two were like furnaces and cauldrons, who didn’t think about making progress and served people with colors.
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Ye Tingjiang: Over the years, it was a mistake!

Attack everywhere except sexual orientation × Gao Leng people are designed to be accepted by nature

1. The subject is very strong, the level of the top of the Xiuxian world, if you don’t upgrade, you will be crushed at the beginning
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Content tags: Strong and strong, happy enemies, heaven’s favored son, immortals and cultivators
Search keywords: Protagonist: Mu Chuihan (Fuyan), Ye Tingjiang ┃ Supporting role: ┃ Others:
One-sentence introduction: Tea of ​​Gaoling fell in love with me
Purpose: Reject false characters, accept yourself, and treat people with sincerity

- Description from novelbuddy

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She was the little chief secretary at Huo Yunting’s office, who carried out jobs both on the table and “under” the table.