Reborn: Femme Fatale First Daughter - Chapter 742: The End (Part Three)

With a sword in hand and wine in tow, he roams the martial world; her slender waist is light as a feather in his palm.The young man strides forward with a long blade slung over his shoulder and a flask at his side, yet the world of martial arts he seeks remains elusive.As the chaotic world book turns a new page, decades of relentless nights in the martial world pass by.Suddenly, he looks back and finds he has already shattered the mortal realm.

Set in a Pokéverse where the remnants of our civilization's Earth lie buried under the resurgent human/Pokémon societies, this epic Saga follows the protagonist through his journey to the heights of Pokemon Training and beyond, across a planet that was only saved from ecological disaster by an act of Arceus. As Humanity and Pokémon coexist in this fusion of settings, the story will explore themes of war, oppressive cults, and Shadow infusion, in a world where Pokémon healing and battles echo the anime in realistic, but not overtly graphic ways. Pokémon do not rip each other apart in Battles, though it can sometimes happen in the wild.This is a very long journey fic that's kind of a Crossover with everything. But with Pokémon. So you might see characters like Shaggy Rogers, or Izuku Midoriya, but with Pokémon teams. Pokémon legends like Red, Gary Oak, and the reigning World Champion, Ash Ketchum, are also, naturally, present in the setting. Think of this slice of the Pokéverse as one where it's all coming together.

The Path to Immortality is elusive, and everyone wants to achieve it even if there's only a glimmer of hope.Tian Yongheng is a person who regained his past life memories after his family was brutally slaughtered. His extreme fear of death and desire to be undying have forced him to step onto this dangerous path of Immortal Cultivation.He is not a Chosen One who is the favored son of heavens, nor is he the reincarnation of a Great Emperor. Armed with a unique system of unknown origins and his obsession with immortality, he sets forth to carve a way of his own in this world where fate toys with one's very existence itself and cosmic horror-like beings devour universes for fun.However, can he really touch the illusory, eternal and ethereal Immortal Dao that is everlasting and everchanging?Will he ever be able to reach the end of this grand path to eternity, establishing himself as a myth and beyond? or will he also drown in the long river of history just like many others?-------The background settings and world building of this story are greatly inspired by Top Tier Providence, Secretly Cultivate for a Thousand Years. the main characters are also pretty similar, so if you like stories where the MC is a hidden powerhouse who, despite being hidden, is still known across the world, then you can give it a try. Please be patient while reading, as this is my first time writing a novel and don't hesitate to point out any mistakes I do in the comments.Also, I'm not a native of China, so there are probably going to be a lot of mistakes in names and history and stuff, please bear with it.Note: English is not my first language and the cover image is not mine.

“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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