MMORPG: Rise of the Primordial Godsmith - Chapter 1508: Myriad Prodigies: Misunderstandings

Amidst a world plunged into chaos, where rituals have collapsed and music has spoiled, and the universe is muddled, Gu Qingfeng finds himself transported to this tumultuous era.Initially, he only desired to live out his remaining years in peace. However, the birth of his first son made him realize that things were not as simple as he had imagined...

Rita Oreira, a fun-loving radio host known for her girly gossip, met a tragic end during a home burglary while trying to save her pet parrot.Surprisingly, she transmigrated into a fantasy novel as Lirian Nightwind, a quirky villainess from an evil family, destined to marry the wicked northern duke, Gabriel Sylcrest, who planned to take over the crown.In the original story, Lirian was set to betray Gabriel, leading to her own death by his hands.Fortunately and unfortunately for her, the new Lirian was protected by her two mischievous brothers, who were supposed to die alongside the duke.Their loyalty complicated her plans to escape the dark fate that awaited them all.In this new world, she had to scheme and do unspeakable things with the lunatic duke to protect her true identity and prevent anyone from discovering that she was not the real Lirian.Not only were the tasks out of line, but they were all for pure entertainment rather than any real purpose.As she accepted her life as his wife, she learned that her parrot, which could only say modern phrases, had special powers that made others believe it could see the future.If the parrot said, “Slay, b*tch!” Gabriel would kill a person on the spot.If the parrot said, “Let it cook!” the male lead would banish or imprison the chef, thinking the food was poisoned.If the parrot said, “Sus, very sus!” Gabriel would tear his advisors apart.As Lirian tried to change her destiny and save them all, she discovered surprising truths about those around her, especially Gabriel Sylcrest.Motivated to survive, Rita had to find a way to save them all.“The crown prince—!!!”“Say one more word about another man, and I’ll let my beasts tear him apart.”“You know, my Lord, for a duke who seeks power, you certainly have a way of making a girl feel… vulnerable.”“Vulnerable? No, my dear. You’re mine, and I’ll make sure everyone knows it. If another man even dares to look at you, I’ll unleash my wrath. I’ll have him begging for mercy, and then I’ll enjoy every moment of his despair.”“You can’t just claim me like that.”“Watch me. I’ll mark you as mine in blood and shadow. You’ll be a warning to anyone who thinks they can touch what belongs to me. The moment you’re within my reach, I’ll ensure no one else can ever have you.”“Is that a threat or a promise?”“Both, Lirian. And trust me, the line between love and possession is razor-thin. Cross me, and you’ll find out just how deep my darkness runs for you.”

“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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