Naruto: The Chosen Undead - Chapter 70 - no. Naruto

The boundless universe is full of many wonders.

I, Chen Ping, only have one sword!

I can move mountains, overturn the seas upside down, suppress demons, slap the face of gods, pluck the stars, break rivers, destroy cities, and… open the heavenly abode!

***

The Midland world was full of wonders.

In the center of the world, there was a scholar who had once used a sword to slash out a waterfall of the Milky Way. This was the person he was the most proud of.

At the edge of East Sea’s cliffs, there was a nameless Daoist who was unwilling to ascend to the peak of a mountain. He only wished for a cool breeze to brush against his face.

In the Western Pure Land, there was an old monk who liked to treat people to chicken soup and tell stories.

In the southern border of the Wilderness, there was a blind painter who controlled golden-armored puppets that were as tall as mountains to move the hundred thousand mountains, creating an embroidered picture.

A impoverished youth who grew up in the north. One day, he saw tens of thousands of Sword Kinesis Immortals above him, like a swarm of locusts crossing the border.

He wanted to see for himself the scholar that the storyteller had mentioned, the surging tides of the East Sea, the vast swamps of sand in the west, and the majestic mountains of the Southern Wasteland.

Thus, one day, the youth picked up the wooden sword and began to descend south.

- Description from novelupdates

[ Invincible + Pure Body Refiner + Cruel and Bloodthirsty + Smashing Through Everything + Tall and Jacked MC + Monke Pet + Villain MC ]Wuji, a young man obsessed with becoming the strongest, was doomed by his own pathetic genetics. No matter how hard he trained, no matter how much willpower he had, he remained weak—a failure in both his own eyes and the world's.When he died, he thought his journey was over.But fate had other plans.Reincarnated into the frail body of a poverty-stricken village boy, he felt true despair. To live twice and fail twice? That was worse than any nightmare.Until Little Red, his strange monkey pet, handed him a tattered book.[ Ding! Body Refining Technique Detected! ][ Ding! Infinite Body Refining System Activated! ]In a world ruled by almighty Devas blessed by the Order Gods, Devils who command legions in the depths of the Abyss, and Chaotic Evil Gods that seek to consume existence itself—martial artists were nothing but insects.But Wuji?He would refine his body beyond mortal limits. His flesh would become divine steel, his fists would tear through the heavens, and his ever-growing body would shake the cosmos.Annoy him? Die.Stand in his way? Be obliterated.Defy him? Your existence will be erased.Witness the rise of a being who will crush all in his path.______________________________________________Somewhere Beyond Creation…A chaotic void spanning infinite dimensions.Monstrous titans, so vast that even entire realms seemed tiny in comparison, lay dead in the abyss. The very essence of reality crumbled around their decaying corpses, their divine auras still gnawing away at existence itself.Atop the mountain of annihilated deities, a towering figure stirred.A shadowed colossus, muscles harder than celestial ore, veins pulsating with endless power. His crimson eyes burned through the darkness as he lifted a grotesque, pulsating sphere of dark flesh to his lips.With a grin, he bit down.The sphere twitched, still alive—still screaming—before it was reduced to nothing but nutrients.Wuji exhaled, his breath alone shaking the void.“Annoying little pests... at least they had some use.”

“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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