Young and Beautiful Wife: Sir, Be Patient - Chapter 466 - : It’s So Mang People Around You

Chu Qiao was known as Agent 005 within the Secret Service’s 11th Division in her former life. She was locked up in the Secret Service’s prison as she was framed. After she successfully broke out from prison, she sacrificed her life bravely to preserve the Secret Service by defusing a bomb meant to wipe them out.

“I am a benevolent god. If you worship me well, maybe I will save you… from the calamities I send.”Zayne was just an ordinary guy, when he was picked through a random draw to become a host of the God System. Having accepted the offer - could that even be considered a choice, when his soul would have been exterminated otherwise? - he was transported to a different world, tasked with gaining believers and growing his cult, earning points from their faith. Once he gained enough believers and points, he would be able to rise to a higher position in the Pantheon…However.A ‘life’ as a deity turned out to be far less glorious than he would have thought. Centuries later, he is still stuck in his first world. Fulfilling prayers day in and day out, as a mere consciousness floating in nothingness, alone with the system. He cannot rank up, he cannot move on, and he cannot even vent his frustration well, because he’s always short on points!And his believers are not even loyal, still worshiping other gods as well!In a moment of distraction, he makes a mistake, which initiates his descent.Not wanting to waste the points he has already spent, Zayne decides to wander the world for a while, posing as his own prophet, using this opportunity to spread his faith… And more importantly, vent all his pent-up anger, and have fun along the way!Randomly doing whatever he wants, he accidentally discovers a path he could take as a god: sending calamities, and then rescuing people from them - of course as long as they pray!And so his journey to the top finally begins.

“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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