Mr.CEO, Please Sign the Divorce Agreement - Chapter 542: I Shall Bear Your Future

Both parents deceased, Yu Tingwan lived under someone else's roof, toiling from dawn until late night without complaint.Her aunt was harsh and intended to sell her to a lecherous local squire who was past seventy.Yu Tingwan had reached her breaking point!She refused to be servile any longer!Instead of having her marriage manipulated, she would rather take charge herself.On her way back from a failed matchmaking session, she stumbled upon the Wei Family's young master, who was being carried, covered in wounds.Yu Tingwan unexpectedly felt dizzy, and suddenly her eyes were filled with red and inappropriate visions. The sound of gongs and drums filled the air as the Wei Family's young master, dressed in wedding garments, had a gloomy expression and was pushed into the bridal chamber by his mother.Who knew which unlucky girl was marrying him!Yu Tingwan saw the face of the bride who was struggling on the bed.Incredibly… it was her!!!General Wei Zhao was proud and noble, having achieved great military honors. After uncovering a colossal deception that had been plotting against him for more than ten years, he felt utterly absurd and bore a wish to die.In a border battle, he used the Cloud-breaking Spear that had slain enemies to stab himself.But he didn’t die, becoming a member of the remote Wei Family village.Throughout his life, Wei Zhao had only known darkness and despair; he thought he would never see the light.Until someone broke in.She fiercely grabbed his collar, stood on tiptoe, and gave him a peck.“Don't be ungrateful; you should secretly rejoice in marrying me.”

...[Inside an underground basement]“You are going to die for nothing, hahahaha,” the old man's voice thundered through the room, sending chills down my spine.Step.With a swift and ruthless motion, he lunged forward, his sword slicing through the air and slashing my throat, crimson droplets staining the darkness.“We'll see,” I whispered defiantly, my final words escaping as a mere breath against the impending darkness.Slowly, inexorably, my consciousness slipped away, and I descended into a deep, unfathomable slumber.“Huh!?” My eyes fluttered open, and I found myself seated in a bustling tavern, the air thick with laughter and the clinking of glasses.In front of me stood a captivating lady, her beauty juxtaposed with an angry furrow upon her brow, threatening to shatter the harmony of the jovial scene.“Don't follow me around!” Her words pierced the air like shards of ice, the intensity of her emotions palpable as she cast a resentful glare in my direction, before swiftly departing from the tavern....Am I trapped within the confines of a game? The fragments of my shattered common sense scattered before me, leaving me to question the very fabric of my reality.

Neo was on the verge of achieving his dreams, set to graduate with flying colors and secure a bright future. But fate had other plans.One moment, he was lounging in his apartment, enjoying his simple and ordinary day. The next, he found himself in a nightmare—a brutal game orchestrated by the hidden rulers of the world.But Neo wasn’t just another victim. When he was pushed to the brink of death, something awoke within him—an ability unlike any other. God-Tier Adaptive System .Every injury made him tougher. Every battle made him smarter. Every encounter shaped him into the perfect survivor.Now, he isn’t just fighting to escape. He’s evolving. And soon, those who once saw him as prey will learn to fear him.'To kill those sick monsters, I must become something far worse.'

“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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