Spend Money on Goddess, Use more! Gain more! - Chapter 79 - Is This Considered an Indirect Kiss?

Wang Li thought dying would be the end of his troubles. Instead, it was just the beginning.After his untimely death, he finds himself reborn in a world of powerful cultivators, ancient sects, and deadly rivalries. With a mysterious Primordial Rebirth System, he has a second chance to reach the peak of cultivation. There's just one problem…All of his ex-girlfriends from his past life are here too!From the cold and ruthless Mu Yuechan, the Ice Demoness of the Frozen Lotus Sect, to the fiery and unpredictable Lin Ruoyan, the Scorching Sun Saintess, and even the cunning and seductive Feng Yuling, the Fox Demoness of the Thousand Illusions Pavilion—each of them remembers their past with Wang Li.And they all have unfinished business with him.Some want revenge. Some want redemption. Some… might even still have feelings for him.But in a world where love can be deadlier than any sword, Wang Li must navigate sect politics, ancient grudges, and divine conspiracies—all while trying to survive his vengeful, jealous, and ridiculously powerful ex-girlfriends.Can he mend broken relationships? Can he avoid being frozen, burned, or seduced to death?Or will he somehow turn this chaotic mess into the greatest cultivation harem in history?One thing’s for sure—cultivation has never been this complicated!

“They only call me mad because they're unable to comprehend me.”After recovering from trauma, Dan was just about to reconnect with the world when some cursed force yanked him into another world without warning.He became, Jules Evanava, a similarly traumatized minor character from the novel, Aftermath of Destroyed Worlds.Jules was now the heir to the strongest clan in the world, thanks to their esteemed, world-balance-altering artifact—but there were thorny strings attached.On the same day he arrived, he was thrown into a mission meant to end with his death.Yet he survived, seizing the Archangel of War’s power in a gamble with death—high risk, higher reward.Blood Manipulation, the Crimson Sigil, War Forged—a sentient sword—and Bloodlust Control were just the beginning. There was more to come. So much more.And with each new power and growth, something in him cracked. Sanity frayed, slowly but surely, as Jules danced closer to the edge of madness.Now, with enemies in his own clan and chaos rising across multiple lands—and even space—Jules must navigate a brutal world on the edge of collapse.Armed with the novel's knowledge and his growing abilities, Jules was going to survive it all—even if he had to become the very madness they struggled to understand.

“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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