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... companied by Imperial Concubine Yuan Gui’s screams, making those who were watching to back up a few steps. Some people even shouted: “The Eighth Prince is crazy! He’s gone crazy!”


And at this moment, Imperial Concubine Li who arrived late also arrived in front of the main hall, she saw this alarming scene and could not help but tremble, and her mind which was already not that normal seemed to snap further. Some panic appeared on her face and she constantly searched amongst the crowd of ...

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Shen Shanwu, 13 years old in appearance but 31 years old in reality, is a mutant that can alter his own appearance. Although he looks like a child on the outside, his wisdom is not very good. One day, he was just passing by when he was suddenly forcibly adopted by a major general, whom he didn’t know where he came from.

He resisted, but when he looked up, it turned out to be an old acquaintance.

The little boy, who could only hide behind him and cry, transformed into the unsmiling, cold, and tough man in front of him. And that expression of seeing a dead beloved is really unsightly…

Shen Shanwu: Can you smile?

Jing Huan: After Shanwu died, I couldn’t smile anymore.

Shen Shanwu: …Who? Who do you think is dead?

It took a long time before he found out about it. He found Jiang Huan crying and holding Shen Shanwu’s nameplate in the middle of the night and told his adopted son how good Shen Shanwu was… All of this…was seen by Shen Shanwu himself!

Jiang Huan (raising his gun): Since you have seen my embarrassing side, then I can only marry you or kill you.

Shen Shanwu: …

Shen Shanwu: Marry, marry, marry! I will recruit 800 zombies to carry you home!

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MTL - I Am Invincible From the End of the WorldChapter 968 Suppressing the strong
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Lin Xinghai obtained the system, ran rampant in the apocalypse, and crushed all enemies.

Rolling is cool for a while, and rolling has been cool all the time.

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The Omnistore SystemChapter 492: Equally embarrassing regalia (R-18)
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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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