MTL - The Ultimate Evolution - v15 Chapter 92 That 1 pinch

Shen You is a real daughter. When she returned to the Shen family, she realized that the Shen family was biased towards the fake daughter. They always said that Shen You was not as elegant and kind as the fake daughter Shen Jiao.

Even if Shen You did not fight for it and only wanted to gain the recognition of her family, they believed that Shen You was fighting with Shen Jiao.

Until Shen You died of a terminal illness.

At this moment, Shen You realized that she was living in a novel. Shen Jiao was the real lucky female lead in the novel, while she was just a supporting actress with a tragic ending!

Shen You, who had been reborn through the system, decided not to care about her family anymore. She wanted to stay away from her fiancé, Zhao Nan, who hated her. She immediately packed her luggage and left.

But after she left, her cold parents, her brother who hated her, her hot-tempered brother, and her fiancé, Zhao Nan, who was used to being pestered by Shen You, all felt uncomfortable?

In order not to get terminally ill again, Shen You had no choice but to follow the system’s tips and try her luck with Young Master Huo.

Every time this young master saw her, his face was so red that it was about to bleed, yet he still had to pretend to be cold. “Can you stay away from me and not always stick by my side?”

Shen You nodded and left. She was going to take advantage of other people’s luck.

At a cocktail party, her fiancé saw the beautiful Shen You and took the initiative to strike up a conversation with her. Unexpectedly, she rejected him coldly.

Zhao Nan was about to pester Shen You when he was stopped by Master Huo’s bodyguards.

At that moment, Young Master Huo was walking over from the banquet hall’s entrance. He grabbed Shen You’s wrist and finally lowered his noble head. “I thought you wanted to pursue me, but you just wanted to take advantage of my luck. That’s why I was a little angry before.”

“From now on, I’ll let you stick to me, okay?”

“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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