Young Brother-in-law Is Now My Husband - Chapter 1400: Kinds Of Idiots

[Warning! The MC here is the literal incarnation of evil and madness throughout the story.]Valtar Titanblood formerly known as Ethan Martin on Earth was struck by an unimaginable tragedy and took his own life at the end, his whole life filled with misery and incompetence of his own doing.Then he transmigrates to a world of infinite proportions and power that defies logic, this new world which is filled with Dragons, Titans, Ouroboros, and countless more bloodline creatures and mythical beings, also powerful humans who are known as Mystic roams here as well.Valtar in this new world has the Karma System and the bloodline of an unknown titan running through his veins, with these powers in hand he who was supposed to become the symbol of justice and equality decided to become the paragon of madness and evil.He who had the tools to become the Judge of Truth and the figure of Respect chose to become the arbiter of chaos and the embodiment of fear.

Victoria Garcia signed a slave contract, but accidentally fainted in bed!“Arnold Johnson, you are a monster! You said you could wait three years!” She complained!“I would be less than one if I didn't take an opportunity after it presents itself!”Then, on a certain night...“You're a scoundrel and a scumbag!” Xiu Xiangwan yelled on the verge of falling apart.“I could be worse if you dare to test me!”“...”Arnold Johnson is the second child of the Johnson family, one of the six top families of business magnates and owners of Johnson Holdings. Everyone says that he was affably evil and elegantly ruthless, and he was said to have seized an opening to engineer his own brother's death, hence inheriting Johnson Holdings!Victoria Garcia was the daughter of a family who now fell to dire straits, pawning herself off to Arnold Johnson to keep her mother out of prison...

In an unfortunate twist of fate, Adrian, a man from the 21st century, is accidentally killed by the Goddess of Fate. As recompense for her mistake, she grants Adrian a second chance at life in an alternate world. Upon awakening, Adrian is startled to find himself surrounded by a setting reminiscent of eighteenth-century Europe. It quickly becomes apparent to him that he has been reincarnated as none other than Napoleon Bonaparte, the indomitable figure who once ruled over Europe for two tumultuous decades.

Disclaimer:

This work of fiction explores a speculative narrative in which the protagonist is reborn as Napoleon Bonaparte and embarks on a journey to power, encountering both historical and fictional characters. While the story draws inspiration from the life and historical context of Napoleon Bonaparte, it is important to note that the events, interactions, and outcomes portrayed in this work are entirely fictional and should not be interpreted as a reflection of real historical events.

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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.

*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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