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... of opulence, its high-vaulted ceilings adorned with intricate chandeliers that cast a warm, golden glow across the room. Long tables were laden with exquisite dishes—roasted meats, glazed fruits, delicate pastries, and rare wines—all meticulously arranged. The air was alive with the hum of conversation, the clinking of crystal goblets, and the soft melodies of a string ensemble playing in the corner.

Arthur entered the hall with measured steps, his regal attire catching the soft glow of ...

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In her previous life, she wrongly loved a scumbag, but was killed by him. Once reborn, she vowed to let him be forever.

On the day of the wedding, the director got married by mistake as soon as she got out of the sedan chair, but she didn’t want to leave the wolf’s den and enter the tiger’s den again.

“If you enter this king’s door, you will belong to this king.” He swore domineeringly, declaring his ownership of her.

“Concubine Ai, this king has no children yet, so the important task of inheriting the lineage can be left to you.” She bet on her innocence, he helped her to avenge her, and each got the good deal they needed, but in the end, it turned out to be a fake.

Do, make it real?

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A mechanical engineer Poul Nielsen along with his best friend Jonathan Axelsen a civil engineer died after a truck crashed at the coffee shop where they were hanging out and got transmigrated in a late 19th-century parallel world, in the country of Avalonia. It was at the height of the second industrial revolution and to survive daily, they’ll have to work like others to earn pennies to get by the day. However, the two didn’t settle for less. They want to be the Edison, the Chrysler, the Rockefeller, the Carnegie, the Ford, and the Westinghouse of this new world.

This world doesn’t seem to have electricity? Then let’s start an electric power distribution company. Light is not enough, let’s build appliances and motors as well to make our business profitable.

This world doesn’t seem to have vehicles and ground transportation relies solely on horse-drawn carriages and trains. Let’s start an Automotive Manufacturing Company.

Huge infrastructure projects such as metro stations, skyscrapers, bridges, tunnels, and dams? Let’s start a Civil Engineering firm and build miracles in this world.

There is always money in guns, they say. Fine, let's invest in another venture, the arms manufacturing company.

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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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Fang Zhou transmigrated into a matriarchal cultivation realm where jade-like beauties hold celestial swords - and all the power. His first act? Tearing up his own betrothal contract.In this world where men were inferior and women were esteemed, the righteous were women, the villains were women, the cultivators were women, and even the gods who created the heavens and earth were women.Female warriors robbed the rich to help the poor and explored the world with their swords. Men, on the other hand, had to be cautious when going out so that they could protect themselves, lest they be robbed of their wealth and dignity, leaving them with nothing.Transmigrating into such a world, Fang Zhou, a handsome man who was desired wherever he went, felt immense pressure. Girls wanted to play with him and even tried to capture him and take him home.For the sake of his own life, Fang Zhou had no choice but to fight against women to the end.”Get lost, you annoying woman! Don't disturb my cultivation!“