MTL - Am I A Superman? - Chapter 348 Red light ring

If you had a golden apple, who would you give it to?Invited to the banquet, Luo En saw the golden apple in the plate inscribed with “To the fairest goddess” and the three goddesses embroiled in dispute before him, and he picked up a knife with a smug smile.The first step, peeling; he gave the skin to Aphrodite.“To be fair, you're quite pretty. As a layer of skin, you're not bad to look at.”The second step, slicing the flesh; he gave that to Hera.“As the queen of heaven, yet everyone in Olympus from 800-year-olds to animals has cuckolded you, including males, females, and even sheep. Since you can't save face anyway, take these insides.”The third step, he gave the remaining core to Athena.“You were supposed to be born a male god and take over Zeus's position, but due to Zeus's shenanigans, you lost that seed, so here, have this core.”Aphrodite clenched her fists, Hera raised her scepter, Athena summoned her spear and shield...Seeing this, Luo En quickly stepped back, shielding the goddess of discord, Eris, firmly in front of him.“And you still want to be the goddess of discord? Look at me; I got them to unite at once, even better than you with your instigation.”“...”Surrounded by Greek gods sharpening their knives, Eris was left in silence.

Xue Ling is a nine tailed fox who has been cultivating for thousands of years but lost all his tails in a moment of capriciousness.

One scam package,That's all it took to drag the 17-year-old Cail into the world of the void....He thought he had ordered a limited-edition sneakers. But what came was a shady-looking package on his front gate. It smelled like rotten egg and sulfur. Inside the package was a strange box.It's filled with eccentric junk. They looked very intricate and mysterious. He thought, “I probably got someone else's package, a package from someone that was very interested in mysticism.”An old coin, a cracked compass, a ring with an ugly center stone, and some other weird looking trinkets.So he did what any broke student would do:He sold it. He figured someone might want them for cosplay or something. Well, except the gold-rimmed glasses that seemed to fit him very well.“Damn, I paid 7,000 nu for that sneaker; I better get something out from this scam package.”Then all hell broke loose. Strange people started approaching him.People brought that junk. Very strange people wearing suspicious get up trying to buy those stuff in the sketchiest manner possible.As he kept selling, he realized that the box was refilling, it seemed to have an endless supply of those strange stuff. Those people called it 'artifacts'.Then one day he woke up with a strange tattoo on his arm; inside the tattoo was an independent space containing the box. It is basically inseparable from him.“I didn't ask for any of this to happen. But now, strange people come to me with desperate offers. Money, memories, and even soul.”He's just trying to survive high school while earning some money!He had no idea what was going on, but apparently, this thing that he got? It's not just an artifact. It's a contract.As Cail navagates school life, part-time jobs, and otherworldly clients, he starts asking the real question:When did I become an artifact dealer?!By day, he is just an ordinary student, a NPC character.And by night? He is The Dealer. Selling ancient items and dealing with people that he probably shouldn't be talking to.“Since I'm already in this mess, might as well profit off of it.”

It was understood that this was a capitalist country, where the possession of the greatest amount of capital determined to whom the nation effectively belonged.The smile that had been resting on William Sheffield’s face was abruptly erased as his expression turned cold. In a tone laced with determination, it was demanded by him that the police be contacted immediately so that they could crush those who stood in their way. The reasoning behind his words seemed clear: if such actions had been taken before by someone like Rockefeller, then why should it not also be possible for Sheffield?A sense of irony hung in the air as the sentiment was expressed—this was America, where each day seemed to unfold as though it were part of an ongoing shootout, with battles fought not just with guns but with power, influence, and wealth.