MTL - Everyone Wants to Pamper the Lucky Daughter - Chapter 336 Pony jujube

I am a princess, moreover, I am a fool of a princess.

Born in the imperial palace, my appearance is as average as that of the white radish and cabbages in the fields. Throughout the four seasons of the year, my face is always displaying a dull expression, eyes forever shrouded in haze.

But in reality, I know of the secrets within this palace.

Including hers, his, and theirs.

Just leisurely living my days comfortably in the palace like this, I firmly believe I can continue to play dumb to the end.

Taking your hand, dragging you away. Not leaving you say? Very well, close the doors and release the hounds. (Expressionless face)

People called him a genius—but Agares never believed it.Tired of expectations, he abandoned everything to live an ordinary life, working just to survive in a cruel world.But fate had other plans.A sudden transmigration took Agares into a world of swords and sorcery—a land ravaged by demons, ruled by power, and merciless to the weak.To his shock, he awakens as one of the Chosen Heroes. Sounds like a dream come true?Wrong.“That's a cursed job!”“He's no hero—he's a demon in disguise!”“Kill him! For the sake of the world!”[DING! Congratulations, you have obtained a Job.][Name: Agares][Job: Saber]Hunted by the empire he was meant to protect, feared for the power he never asked for, Agares finds himself branded a threat to humanity. All because of a job he didn’t choose.Just as the noose tightens, a red-eyed woman named Liel offers him a different path:“You were born to be more than their hero.”“The empire betrayed you. Humanity rejected you. Even nature turns away.”“Why not embrace what they fear —and become the successor of the Demon Emperor?”Now, Agares has a choice: run, or rise.This is the beginning of his war.A war not just for survival —but for vengeance.

Jason, a young man who died after getting involved in a brutal accident that killed him reincarnated into the exact novel he was reading on the night he died.He was reincarnated into the novel he was reading before his untimely death, as a baby who had just been birthed successfully. From his birth he was shown no love due to his non-existent aptitude in magic.Lucky for him, he awakened the Talent system.A system that allowed him to copy talents; skills that individuals excelled at, the skills that made said individuals the cream of the crop. With the exact same mastery of the person he copied it from.The system when trying to increase his aptitude for mana only managed to decrease it even lower blessed him with nature energy to passively strengthen himself.With no magic and a system that allows him to copy talents, watch Jason climb through the ranks of the world and become the strongest!...[Host can choose a talent to copy: Null eyes, War God's Embrace, 30 Blade movements, Advanced War Tactics]

“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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