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... tion, in order to transport the magic chakra, the bodies of the two were briefly fused together, and now it can be said that they are very familiar with it.

  After Yao Shidou entered the fairy mode, the two breaths gradually became indistinguishable from each other. From the perspective of outsiders, even a ninja who is good at perception would never be able to detect the second will from it.

"well-done."

  Oshemaru nodded slightly, and said with his mind, "I don't care a ...

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The aristocratic Lu family has produced a joke, a beautiful one, but a joke nonetheless. The daughter they have been rearing all this while turns out to be an imposter! With the real heiress returning to take her rightful place, everyone is eager to know the outcome of the imposter…Will she be able to survive in poverty after living a life of riches?Having just transmigrated, Huo Yao imagines that this experience will be pretty interesting. However, imagination and reality are always so different!Dad: “Daughter! Take this black card. It has no limit! Use it freely.”Mom: “My dear Yao Yao! If you don’t like this jewelry, I’ll get them to change it immediately.”Huo Yao: “…”Weren’t they supposed to be poor and ordinary? What is with this hidden lavish behavior?Her eldest brother, an investment company’s CEO: “Sis, inherit my company!”Her second brother, a top lawyer: “Whoever dares slander my sis will face the full brunt of the law!”The third brother, an international genius doctor: “Bullying my sister? Should I display the prowess of my scalpel?”Mysterious fourth brother: “My sis is the cutest!”Huo Yao: “…”What happened to being a good-for-nothing person who lives off her parents?A top aristocrat secretly changes into his cheap clothes and drives his crappy old car to her. “Baby, my heart is yours. Why don’t we get married to test if I’m telling the truth or not?”Everyone who knows about it, doesn’t dare say it out loud.All they can do is curse inwardly: “Bah! Keep acting! No one believes it!”

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“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.

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*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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