His Genius Wife Is A Superstar - Chapter 1397 I’m My Own Sugar Mama

“Magic is magnificent.”

“Magic is mysterious.”

“Magic is a miracle.”

“Magic is also…violent!”

“The splendor that bursts out in an instant; the mystery is in the endless unknown; the miracle saves too much despair; the violence is…”

Teammate: “Don’t be crooked! The enemy is almost rushing up! Attack!”

“Oh, alright!”

The protagonist hurriedly took a deep breath of ‘hiss, fur’, and then concentrated on his breath.

next moment!

“Waaaagh——”

teammate:”……”

Related worlds: HP, Big Pineapple, WOW, One Man, Magic Comic Series, Magic Movie Series, DC, Marvel, etc.

- Description from novelbuddy

In the continent of Tiandi humans lived amongst beasts, demons, and spirits. Here warriors were as common as the clouds in the sky, and each expert could either cultivate their inner energy known as Qi, or their soul, to form Spiritual Energy.

In the village of Jinwei, Luo Xiao grew up like a beautiful bird locked in a cage. He was weak from birth and unable to leave his bed for an extended period of time, yet his beauty made him well-liked amongst the villagers.

One day disaster struck the village of Jinwei. A Corpse Puppet appeared wanting to eradicate all life. A seal was unlocked, and soon the Corpse Puppet was dead under the hand of the sickly Luo Xiao, but this was not the end of his misfortune.

Right when he thought that the end was coming, a man as handsome as a god descended to the mundane world and took him away.

For the sake of revenge, Luo Xiao sold his soul to this handsome man, but is it only his soul that this alluring stranger took from him?

All rights to the Cover Image belongs to me.

“Wang Cheng, we need to practice more!”

“No, I want to guarantee eight hours of sleep every day.”

…

“Wang Cheng, it’s almost nine o’clock, and you’re late.”

“Didn’t you go to work at nine o’clock? It’s still a minute away. Where’s the punch card machine?”

…

“Wang Cheng, what variety show do you want to be on?”

“Is there a fishing variety show?”

- Description from novelbuddy

“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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