MTL - Rescuing the Supporting Character - Chapter 207 The boss of the final article, Hello, three or four

As soon as Zhao Huai opened his eyes, he realized that he had become the last crown prince of the Great Yan Dynasty. However, he wasn't excited about it because the Great Yan Dynasty had already perished. In the current world, the New Dynasty reigned supreme. He had fled south and settled down, becoming a small pawnshop owner. From being the crown prince of the Great Yan Dynasty to an unknown pawnshop owner, the only thing Zhao Huai could rely on was a golden copper coin he received when he first transmigrated here. By flipping the coin, he could receive instructions in his mind, know the outcome of things, and predict the fortune and misfortune he would face.

In front of you is a mysterious ring. Do you accept it? The instruction you receive is “fortune.” You accept the ring and obtain the destiny of “Good Fortune.” In front of you is a marriage proposal. Do you agree to marry her? The instruction you receive is “misfortune.” You choose to marry her and obtain the destiny of “Divine Insight.” In the chaos caused by demons and monsters in the Central State, you have achieved great cultivation. Do you want to emerge from seclusion? The instruction you receive is “fortune.” You defeat the demon lord with a single sword, shaking the world, and obtain the destiny of “Sword Saint.”

As the New Dynasty was established, its foundation was unstable. Demons and monsters caused disturbances, and people's hearts were unsettled. The world was filled with countless bones, and small countries were on the brink of collapse. Foreign tribes on the border were watching closely. Even in this prosperous era, there were countless plagues. This was a world where cultivation was revered, and Zhao Huai knew that only by becoming an immortal could he protect himself. While the former officials of the Great Yan Dynasty were searching everywhere for the heir of the former dynasty, attempting to restore the nation and continue the imperial legacy of the Great Yan Empire, Zhao Huai said, “Restoring the nation? It'll not be too late for me to do that after I become an immortal.”

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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.

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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Vincent van Gogh, the painter who refused to be an accessory Of power and painted with his soul at the tip of a brush, was not understood by anyone and had to die like a madman, and he woke up in 21st century Korea.

Like a wheat field melted with gold, like a sunflower that swallowed the sun, a dazzling painter once again takes the brush.

The miracle doctor, Xu Qing, accidentally fell into the water and died. When she opened her eyes again, she found herself having transmigrated into a farming novel. Then, she felt excruciating pain in the lower half of her body. Xu Qing looked down in disbelief. As a thirty-year-old unmarried single woman, she was in the midst of giving birth to a child! Staring at the three babies who were barely breathing, Xu Qing almost went mad. Why did she suddenly become a mother of three?

Her father exclaimed, “How dare you give birth to b*stard children before getting married?! We don’t have a daughter like you. Scram!” Before Xu Qing could even catch her breath after bearing children, she was chased out of the house by her father. Fortunately, her mother pitied her and secretly gave her an acre of land to aid in her survival. With no options left, Xu Qing picked up a hoe and started farming.

‘Hey, that unconscious mister over there, please die somewhere else! Don’t dirty my corn field!’ After dragging the unconscious man to a side, Xu Qing suddenly remembered that she needed help taking care of her children. This man would do!

Later on, Qiao Yanhui knelt down before his angry wife with an aggrieved look on his charming face. He had one child on each arm, and another clinging to his head. He looked up at Xu Qing pitifully. “Honey, it’s the effect of my family genes. I can’t control my genes from producing so many babies…” “Out! Get out now!” Xu Qing kicked him aside. Who knew that the man she picked up turned out to be the father of her children. Had she known, she would’ve left him to die in the corn field.