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... e upgraded again?” Su Wan asked.

“That is not so simple. Its promotion will usher in a transformation, requiring flesh and blood much more than before… perhaps ten times more than before,” said Modric.

The prerequisite for the upgrade was that all units needed to reach the same level.

It was already quite difficult to meet the conditions, and accumulating enough energy for another level-up was even more challenging.

Moreover, numerous deaths would be required, ide ...

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Feng Ruqing was a spoiled princess with a hideous countenance in Liu Yun Kingdom. She used to ride roughshod over anyone who stood in her way, backed by her father the emperor who loved her with all his heart.

Not only did she force the chancellor's son to marry her by breaking the existing loving couple up, but her mother-in-law had also passed out from rage because of her. In the end, she took her own life after the heartbreak and humiliation of being dumped.

When she opened her eyes again, she was no longer the bratty princess who was a good-for-nothing.

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Rumor has it that spirit beasts have become servants in princess’ manor and the princess is devouring precious spirit herb dishes every day.

Rumor has it that the chancellor’s son who pleaded for reconciliation after divorcing the princess was thrown out of the princess’s manor.

Rumor has it that some good-looking young masters went to the princess’s manor in hope of being her servants were nearly killed by the state preceptor.

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The Omnistore SystemChapter 465: Broken worlds pieces (R-18)
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“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.

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“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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In a magical Middle Ages, it was difficult to stick to your beliefs…or even to be alone.

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