Rebirth: CEO's Sweetheart Reaches the Life Pinnacle! - Chapter 39 - 37: The Strange Young Master Leng

She found that her fiance was sick and squeamish, but it was a little expensive to raise.
The poor and poor high-level bosses have to make money to support their husbands while accumulating merits.
Then, he went to the construction site to move bricks and was caught by his husband. He set up a stall at the door to tell fortunes and was carried back by his husband. He went out to catch demons and was carried back by his husband.
The big devil is very distressed, what should my husband do if he always wants to keep her at home?
Yu Chao is rich and Huaizhi is helpless, what should the little girl always like to go to dangerous places?

- Description from novelbuddy

Earth was supposed to be a safe haven.And for a time—it was.Until one night, golden stars lit up the sky like cosmic flames. The heavens swirled, the winds howled, and the world braced for its end. But just as quickly as it came... the phenomenon vanished.Weeks later, everything changed.Humans began to awaken powers once thought to exist only in fantasy. Skills—mystical, world-shaking abilities. Some used them for good. Others unleashed devastation.What could a gun do against a man who could turn into a living bomb?Portals tore through the sky, connecting Earth to monstrous realms. Beasts, demons, and nightmares poured into the world. Amid the chaos, powerful humans rose to fight back—and won. The survivors called them one thing: Heroes.Among them, one boy was left behind.Han Trystan—orphaned during the Sendok Calamity—carries the burden of rebuilding his parents' legacy, protecting his three younger siblings, and finding a cure for his dying aunt. But all of that hinges on one thing: awakening a powerful Skill.And when his time finally comes…> Name: Han TrystanSkill: Book FormationRank: EThe lowest rank. A joke. Practically powerless. Hope? Shattered.Until Han discovers the truth.His skill isn’t “Book Formation.” It’s something far greater.Creation. Not just of weapons or armors. But artifacts, pills, barriers—even other Skills.The world labeled him weak. But he was never meant to follow their system—he was meant to break it.Years later…> “Did I see that right...?”“Yeah. He just wiped out hundreds S-Rank monsters—alone.”“So the title ‘White-Black-Haired Monster’... it wasn’t exaggerated after all.”In a field of fallen beasts, one man stands untouched. Eyes calm. Power immeasurable.> “Weaklings.” Han mutters.Follow Han Trystan’s journey from the lowest-ranked misfit to one of the most powerful beings in the multiverse—and witness the rise of a legend the system tried to erase.

On the Star Network there is a gourmet food broadcast, where all you can see are a pair of hands. However each dish that this broadcast comes out with is earthshakingly delicious. What’s more, the broadcast anchor’s voice is simply perfect!

With the broadcast’s rising popularity, several food programs extended him an olive branch. When the anchor appeared on screen, as they suspected, he is handsome enough to incur the wrath of both men and gods! The fans licked their screens with increasing frenzy, but after licking a while, they discovered…

Fans:…Wait a minute, isn’t this our fatally-ill idol who hasn’t long to live?

Small Gong: Take these damned nutrient solutions and throw them away! And get me that broadcast anchor!

- Description from Novelupdates

“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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