The Tycoon's Mysterious Darling Wife - Chapter 530 - 533. Twins, transfer schools

An app that feeds precious information on opportunities to make money suddenly appears on Chen Yiyang's phone.“At the entrance of the shop at 206 East Street, Xihua District, there is a rich woman whose heart has been broken by her boyfriend. If you go there now, you can gain a considerable advantage.”“So this is the kind of opportunity, huh? This is too good to pass up! Rich woman, wait for me.”

The famous apocalyptic boss Jun Ning, after dying together with the zombie king, transformed into a cannon fodder female educated youth in period novels.

The heroine in the book is a black-hearted lotus, but all the supporting characters have excellent characters, but they all end up miserable in the end.

Boss Junning looked at the cannon fodder script in his hand and felt no pressure at all.

It doesn’t matter if she is a cannon fodder educated youth, she has three types of abilities and a world-defying space!

Soon after, the boss’s cannon fodder script turned into a queen’s script!

The male and female protagonists panicked. Where is the halo of the protagonist that they agreed on?

- Description from novelbuddy

What comes after death?

Val has a definite answer.

It's reincarnation!

After dying on modern-day Earth, he found himself waking up in a strange world!

The world was so strange that after death, humans would turn into zombies.

Negativity could give birth to devils.

There were also dungeons that, if left unchecked, could spell disaster!

This strange world was called Eldrich.

In this strange world, Val gained a chance at life when he acquired the Devil system!

[You have gained ownership of the Devil System!]

[Please choose the type of devil you would like to become.]

[Option 1: Shadow Devil.]

[Option 2: Blood Devil.]

That night, he grinned and the world witnessed the birth of a devil!

...

A scene from the novel:-

The Anthrolisk's antennae twitched violently, its bloodshot eyes narrowed, and it gritted its mandibles. Rage bubbled up within it like boiling tar, yet it kept its fury in check.

“I admit,” it managed to grind out through clenched teeth, “you're stronger than me. On my own, I might not be enough to defeat you. But when my children come into the picture, everything changes.”

Val's eyebrow raised, “What children?”

The Anthrolisk responded by clapping its hands elegantly. Suddenly, the ceiling overhead split open, and gigantic cockroaches, each half the size of a human, crawled out. Their shiny exoskeletons gleamed ominously under the faint light of the chamber.

“Shocked, aren't you?” The Anthrolisk gloated, a wicked grin stretching across its monstrous face. “Let's see how you fare against my children! Little ones, get him!”

With the command given, the cockroaches crawled down the wall in an eerie synchronicity, their multitude of tiny legs clicking against the stone walls of the chamber as they closed in on Val.

Val, however, merely smirked, causing an ominous chill to creep down the Anthrolisk's spine. It could feel that something wasn't right.

“You're not the only one with henchmen,” Val retorted casually, his smirk broadening into a wicked grin that mirrored the Anthrolisk's earlier expression.

A sense of foreboding filled Anthrolisk and it moved to stop Val from doing whatever he was planning to do.

However, it was too late.

“Descend to the living realm, my horde of the undead!” he commanded.

Suddenly, reality seemed to bend and ripple around Val, as if it was a mere illusion.

Out of these distortions, countless undead emerged, tearing through the very fabric of space itself to answer their master's call. Their hollow eyes burned with a spectral fire, their skeletal forms imposing and dreadful. It was a sight to behold, a haunting spectacle that sent chills down the spine of the Anthrolisk and its children.

A little about Val:- Val is not good or evil. Ask long as it benefits him, he can be a saint or a devil, or both!

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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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