MTL - Godly Model Creator - Chapter 513 First admission

The real daughter of the Lin family, Lin Luqiu, was lost for many years and was found suddenly, only to be asked by her parents to replace her fake daughter sister in marrying a living corpse!She uses her exceptional medical skills to wake her vegetative husband, but to her surprise, the first thing he says upon waking is, “Let's get a divorce.”She laughs in anger, “Fu Jingchen, you really are an ungrateful dog of a man.”After the divorce, everyone learns that the seemingly rustic girl is actually wearing many hats as the true powerhouse.She is actually the prized disciple of a giant in the medical field, a world-class piano master, and a genius jewelry designer... all of these are her.Later, a regretful President Fu comes to ask her to remarry.She dominantly refuses, “President Fu, sorry, no time!”The man pulls her into his arms frantically, “As long as you come back, I will give you my life!”

There is an ugly beast that violates women in prison.

A treacherous beast that is feared and called a “Butcher”.

That’s me.

I was once a human but now I can’t even remember my own name.

I can’t speak, and I don’t understand a word they say.

It is in this deep loneliness that I am pouring my essence into the women everyday.

I pour my burning rage into them.

Over and over again, until they conceive.

From morning till night. Until the women’s souls withered.

To show them that I’m an excellent stallion and an obedient domestic animal.

But my soul has not perished yet.

I will break free from this prison soon. And when I do, it will be your last.

Every human who betrayed me, every demon who altered me, I will trample down like an ant.

And it won’t stop until I’m satisfied.

The dawn of the beast is near.

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.

“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.]

……………………………………………………………

Dear readers! Without any ads, maybe you will prefer .