The Reincarnated Assassin is a Genius Swordsman - Chapter 155

Chang An, capital of Tang, the most powerful empire in the continent. A heaven wrecking massacre shook the city to its core. Amidst the incident, a young boy named Ning Que managed to get away, dug out from a pile of corpses along with a little girl called Sang Sang. Years passed, and since that day the two of them lived together. Together with Sang Sang they both entered the military, with plausible military achievements, they were recommended into the Scholar School, which began their miraculous journey.

Five years ago, she replaced her twin sister to marry him who was burned beyond recognition and even became a eunuch. Five years later, when they met again, he pressed her against the wall in the corner A low voice sounded with doubt. "Is your daughter mine? " The corners of her mouth curled into a sneer. "Are you sure you have the ability to do that? " His originally cold face instantly turned into the darkness before the storm His voice was fierce and low as he growled, "woman, you are challenging me! "

Have you ever considered, what is a Limit? Well, I have. I’ve seen people who were as strong, as wild animals. Those that were faster than the wind. Some that shined with intellect. Yet, what are the Limits of mankind’s strength, or intelligence?

No one seems to know. We develop more and more, seemingly without an end. What if, someone was the smartest in the world? Would that suggest the Limit? What if, someone was the strongest in the world? Would that be the Limit? Would that make that someone, more than a Human? These are just questions, but what if I saw people reach their Limits? What if I know what happens, when you break the Limits? What if I were to tell you about it, would you believe me?
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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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