Way of Overlord - Chapter 412: Shocking the Heavens

*Xu Xinyi woke up and had obtained a system, the system told her that she was a female partner with a miserable/desolate end.

In order to prevent this ending, Xu Xinyi driven by the system, worked diligently on what a female partner should do.

Yi Yang couldn’t tolerate it anymore/at the end of one;s patience, and at last mentioned divorce.

Xu Xinyi’s heart felt ecstatic as she put the divorce agreement in front of her husband and with a sorrowful, heartbroken look on her face waited for her husband to sign.

—“Hurry up! Sign quickly! I can finally leave this darned place!”

Suddenly Yi Yang who could hear Xu Xinyi’s thoughts threw away the pen and said, “Not leaving.”

***

Ever since Yi Yang discovered that he could hear Xu Xingyi’s thoughts, he found that his wife kept kissing up to him and saying she loved him but in her heart she would laugh at that.

She loved him on the surface.

“Husband, you are so nice, I love you very/so much ah!”

—“I won’t be spending the rest of my life with this arrogant man forever, will I? I am the most wretched woman in this world!”

She yelled at Yi Yang: where am I not good! Tell me! I can still change! Wont that work then?

- Description from Novelupdates

Bizarre clouds billowed by in the sky, as if in a hurry.

During an anti-drug operation in the city of Gongzhou three years ago, a chain explosion had gone off on site due to a mis-judgement made by the Commander-in-Chief Jiang Ting, and caused the anti-drug detachment team to suffer great casualties as a result. Three years now, Jiang Ting, who was supposed to have already been killed in the line of duty with not even a body left to bury—miraculously woke up from a coma.

His heroic soul had never been at peace. He returned from Hell back to the living, to give everything he had to bring the bloody and bizarre truth back to light.

- Description from Novelupdates

“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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