MTL - Considering the Possibility of Falling in Love With the Villain - Chapter 42 Her name is mourning

The world is like a chessboard and all living beings are the pieces on it!

“I do not want to be treated as a chess piece by the players!”

Defeat in this chess is tantamount to the destruction of my body and I’ll thoroughly disappear! Victory in this chess and I’ll have a very long life!

With the help of an ancient Weiqi piece, Gu Hai arrived at the Divine Province Mainland!

Heavenly Dao is eternal, however life is limited, making heaven and earth pieces of a chessboard, then in the end transformed into a loess, vanishing like faded smoke and scattered clouds. Nevertheless people still jump out of the chessboard, and these people are already prepared for their death while playing chess against the heavens, and perhaps win eternal life for themselves?

“I’ve come, and I want to live through 10,000 lives without any boundaries!”

- Description from Novelupdates

[Time Travel + Online Shopping Mall + Sweet Petting + Sudden Wealth + Strong Female Lead + Abusive Scum Male Lead]

An Zhi Xia was born and immediately had her identity swapped out. She was harmed by the fake rich miss and her foster parents until no bones remained.

After drifting for a hundred years as a ghost, she watched with her own eyes as the fake rich miss assumed her identity to marry into a prestigious family, achieving success in both career and love. The fake rich miss also angered An Zhi Xia’s birth parents to death, and left her four brothers either dead or disabled.

Upon returning to the 1970s when she was harmed, the hundred-year-old ghost An Zhi Xia decisively counterattacked. She acknowledged her birth parents, drove away the fake rich miss, and sent her foster parents to prison.

Did you think she wanted familial love?

No, she only wanted the villains to pay the price.

But things often go beyond one’s expectations. An Zhi Xia’s big brother doted on her, second brother cherished her, third brother loved her, fourth brother protected her. As for her mother, she was always worried about the fake rich miss, but that no longer mattered. Her grandparents still made the decisions at home and could not be swayed.

In this life, An Zhi Xia wanted to live for herself, make money, and pursue her career. Yet she was secretly being watched by someone.

Pei Jing had a irritable personality but was handsome. After an accident where he was taken advantage of by an ugly woman, he thought he would hate her gritting his teeth. But instead, he unexpectedly fell deeply in love with her, doting on and cherishing her for life.

“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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