The Strongest War God - Chapter 1315 - : I’ll Take You Home

Year one of the New Era, the Demon King was defeated by the Hero, divided into thirteen parts, and sealed all over the world. Only the soul can reincarnate and be reborn.Year sixteen of the New Era, in the tavern of a small town on the border, a young maid named Mohe sees a middle-aged man who only brags to deceive people for drinking money. However, she knows better than anyone that he was the Hero who defeated her and split her into thirteen parts.“The former Demon King is now wearing maid clothes and working as a server here?”“The great Hero sir, instead of being affectionate with your harem group, you bark here like a stray dog, deceiving for food and drink. How is that different from a beggar?”

The Huaxia Continent is a land of great abundance, inhabited primarily by the Han people. Three hundred years ago, the continent was unified under a single dynasty. However, due to later oppressive taxation and exploitation, that dynasty eventually collapsed, plunging the land into an era of warlords and divided power.In this chaotic environment, the status of martial arts experts rose to unprecedented heights. The major sects and noble families that trained these martial artists became powerful local forces, each dominating their own region. The product of the alliance of these powerful factions the Martial Alliance became the largest organization in the martial world. In the eyes of the people, the leader of the Martial Alliance held even greater prestige than the rulers of the divided territories.Wuxia, Adult, Harem, Mature, Dark, Drama, Incest, NTR, Netorare, NTL, Netori, Romance, Threesome, Orgy, R18, Smut, Action, Adventure

When I woke up after being transported to another world, I am suddenly the antagonist? This script is wrong! I stole the other guy’s girl! I also have a super strong big sister! This script is even more wrong! There’s even an Overgod Space, along with the infinite worlds? I must be dreaming! Wu Ming calmly maintains his neutral expression and journeys ever onwards.

“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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