Married the Tough Guy After Transmigrating - Chapter 394 - 395: Zhang Yanlin’s Explanation

Until he became the lowest-ranked master, his lonely and luckless life never changed.Suddenly one day, a descendant injected him with a nanomachine, and the machine started ‘speaking’ to him.[I am the seventh generation Nanomachine manufactured by Sky Cooperation, and I am operating as a central nerve connected to your brain.]“What? What are you talking about?”This was beyond the boy’s knowledge, he turned pale.The Nanomachine linked to his cerebrum realized the User was not understanding a single word it said.“Who are you, and why are you doing this to me?”[“I am the seventh generation Nanomachine.]“Nano Machine?”[Yes, Nanomachine.]The boy’s face hardened.Mashin was the deity the Mashin Religion worshipped, along with the Sacred Fire.The religions’ Master communicated with Mashin.“Um, are you really Mashin?”The boy knelt down and asked with a trembling voice. At this, the Nanomachine attached to his cerebrum realized it had been misunderstood.

In a world ruled by mana and bloodlines, John White was born with none.Reborn from Earth into a noble family, he became the forsaken son of a duke (a bastard) bullied by siblings, ignored by servants, and banished at fifteen like trash.Two years later, he's dragged to a mana mine to be quietly killed by his brother's lackey. But fate has other plans.Deep underground, an ancient abyss-grade ring awakens. It merges with Earth’s forgotten technology with the world’s magic. Fueled by pure mana, it unlocks the Black Hole magic, granting him power never seen before.From a worthless outcast to a terrifying Void Lord, John begins crafting magical tech tools that warp reality itself. His enemies have no idea what’s coming.Will he burn his past to ashes… or rebuild the world in his own image?

“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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