MTL - Poisoning the World: The Secret Service Mysterious Doctor is a Young Beastly Wife - Chapter 97 She is a little devil

“Next time I see you, I'm not letting you walk away.” The stranger said as Nova wiped his c*m off her lips.Nova was a quiet, shy, and bookish girl... also very innocent. At least, that's what everyone thought.Until one filthy game of truth or dare in an exclusive club stripped away her innocence and left her kneeling in the dark… mouth full of a stranger's thick c**k, swallowing every drop of his release without ever knowing his name. She fled after he finished.But he didn't forget and neither did she. And the next day, when she followed her best friend to her father's luxurious estate for his 45th birthday dinner, she locked eyes with the last man she expected to see— The man she gave head to the night before. Her best friend's dad. Now he knows. Now he wants her. And Nova's filthy little secret? She wants him too.

Wen Xuan, the chief disciple of Shui Yunzong, respected the teacher halfway and loved his fellow students, was a model among his disciples.
    He had thought he would spend his life like this.
    Until one day, he met an open younger brother.
    His brother told him that this world is actually a text.
    And he, as the ugliest and humble negative character in the text of the upgrading and upgrading, will be bumpy in the second half of life, departed from relatives, and desolate.
    .
    “Too many people have talked about your life in scornful sarcasm after tea. No one knows how you spent those years and no one sees how you hold onto the bottom line in the lonely struggle. No one cares about the suffering you have experienced and your persistence. But I have seen it and I know that I care. ”

    “So I came to this world and became your dependency.”

- Description from Fpzw

“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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