I Transmigrated Into a Novel and Became the Vicious Stepmother of Five Cute Babies - Chapter 873 - : The Tortoise and the Turtle

Young Master Lu says, “My wife knows nothing at all and has a bad temper. You'd better not bully her.” Gu Mang watches silently as this man warns everyone who comes his way.Young Master Lu says, “Read properly. How can you remember anything if you flip the pages so quickly?” Gu Mang takes up another book and reads it speedily.Young Master Lu complains, “What should I do when my babe hates studying?” What else can he do other than dote on her?Until one day...“Young Master, numerous universities in the capital and even top universities overseas are fighting to get Madam to enroll!”“Young Master, many TCM research centers are getting into deadly squabbles over hiring Madam.” “Young Master, a legion of huge international law firms want to employ Madam.”“Young Master, several eminent hacking organisations are here too...”“Young Master, multiple financial groups have come...”“Young Master...”To all these, Young Master Lu says, “What the f**k! Get out of here!”Yes, his wife is a genius.

Yun is a novice MMO player who equipped only unpopular skills labelled as garbage. However, soon after the official launch of the game, the NPC stopped to sell Recovery Potion. Everyone finally started to notice the importance of Support Magic and Items. And that spells trouble for Yun as well as all the support-based players. They received orders for recovery potion from endless flood of players en masse, some more aggressive players even go as far as forcing the support players to be their personal craftsman. In order to prevent this from going out of hands, all the support players grouped together to form a community to keep things in order.

As a golden dragon raised by a human family from a young age, Noah has no particular hobbies except for cultivating kings.Though some ignorant scholars misunderstand him, labeling him as a mentor of king slayers and trampler of royal authority, over the millennia, there are also wise men who praise him as the imperial dragon and holy dragon.Moreover, the vast empire's many races regard him as the pioneer of the golden age, an immortal radiance of the empire, eagerly desiring his regency and control over the empire's authority.

“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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