MTL - Noble Emblem - Chapter 1157 Charge of the Demon Race

Lu Yao strayed into a small pixel game where he played the role of a god, but found that this game was connected to a world of different dimensions.

The [sacrifice] in the game will enter reality, and the [gift] he gave can also reach the game world.

As a trainee god, he can’t do much except create various natural disasters.

Until he gritted his teeth and revived a supermodel apostle, the gameplay changed a bit…

- Description from novelbuddy

When Sang Qianqian, the eldest lady of the Sang family, was eighteen years old, she fell in love with Shen Hanyu at first sight.

“Shen Hanyu, I like you.”

“But I don’t like you.”

Shen Hanyu spoke ruthlessly, every word was sonorous, “Not now, and not in the future.”

In a fit of rage, the eldest miss planned to teach Shen Hanyu a lesson.

However, he found out that Shen Hanyu might be a tyrannical and cruel boss in the future, and he would also cause the destruction of the Sang family?

Sang Qian slipped away: She can’t afford to like the boss, so “death escape” is the best policy.

Shen Hanyu once hated Sang Qianqian, but after she left, his obsession was almost crazy.

Sang Qianqian, who has fled far away from home, lived a happy life.

One day, I suddenly heard that Shen Han, a big business man, dug her cemetery like crazy, looking for her everywhere.

Sang Qianqian felt alarm bells in her heart, and she was about to run away when she packed up.

As a result, when the door was opened, Mr. Shen stood outside the door with a dark face, gritted his teeth: “Run, you continue to run.”

Sang Qianqian thought carefully, since she can’t escape, why not try to influence the boss?

As a result, the probation failed, and he put himself in.

Years later.

Sang Qianqian, who found out that she had been deceived, left the divorce agreement in front of Shen Hanyu: “I want a divorce!”

Shen Hanyu wrapped the man in his arms and lowered his head to cover the girl’s lips.

After a long time, he asked in a hoarse voice, “Are you still leaving?”

Sang Qianqian was dizzy at the kiss: “No, we won’t leave…”

“That’s called husband.”

“Old, husband…”

Shen Hanyu nodded with satisfaction: “Well, good.”

- Description from novelbuddy

She was the most unpopular female wolf in the New Moon Pack, as lowly as a blade of grass. Eight years ago, her mother went missing, her father was killed, and her entire pack was exterminated. Thus, she had been demoted to the lowest servant level by her father’s murderer. For eight years, she had been beaten, cursed, and starved, but she kept her identity a secret.

This year, she turned eighteen years old.

He was the alpha of the largest werewolf pack in all of America and shone like the sun. With his perfectly sculpted face and a tremendous amount of money, no werewolf didn’t know his name, and he was the dream lover of every woman. Everything seemed perfect, except for the fact that he didn’t have a mate yet.

This year, he turned twenty-six years old.

What kind of spark or conflict would there be when they meet by chance?

“Rose, I can give you everything you want. In exchange, you have to be mine.”

“Alpha, the truth is, I’m—”

“Oh, Jesus f*cking Christ! Now, you will never escape me, my Luna.

“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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