Invincible Divine Dragon’s Cultivation System - Chapter 4611 - : 4610 Chaos Center, Earth Reappears

After Chu Zheng was inexplicably judged to be dead, the only trouble was – spending money.

Since the binding of this system, her waist has not been sore, her legs have not hurt, and she is not even breathing. She lives in fear of spending money every day.

System: Let’s set a small goal and defeat it by 100 million… Miss, stop! Don’t just turn on the invincible mode! (▼ dish▼#)

Chuzheng: Can you first explain what this thing holding my thigh is?

Something: Baby, you can do whatever you want.

Chuzheng: (touching the knife) Well, then I’m welcome.

System: Miss, please put down the butcher knife! ! (▼へ▼メ)

#Miss, you can really do whatever you want, find out#

- Description from novelbuddy

Yuan Xi had been the secretary for Gu Hanchen for five years, working tirelessly without a single day off. Not only was she overworked like a horse, but she was also slandered by Gu Hanchen's fiancee and her friend, Miss Chu, who accused Secretary Yuan of delusionally hoping to turn from a sparrow into a phoenix and become the wife of President Gu. No longer able to tolerate the treatment, Yuan Xi handed in her resignation letter. After resigning, the once overburdened secretary surprisingly turned out to be the legitimate heiress of the wealthiest family in Jiangcheng, the Chu family! Back at the Chu household, Yuan Xi discovered that the family had taken in an adopted daughter, Chu Yan, who had been standing in for her. The false heiress was bright and unrestrained, rightfully considered the unrivaled young mistress of Jiangcheng. Even after the return of the true heiress, Chu Yan remained the celebrated young mistress while Yuan Xi was invariably seen as a mere shadow when compared to Chu Yan's splendid life. Yuan Xi's husband did not even own a house in the center of Jiangcheng. In contrast, the impostor Chu Yan was set to marry into one of Jiangcheng's top four wealthy families, the Bo family. Everyone in Jiangcheng ridiculed Yuan Xi for not having a life as fortunate as the false heiress, nor a discerning eye. That was until the day when Mi Chen was listed on the stock market, and Yuan Xi swiftly rose above her own father to become the new wealthiest person in Jiangcheng. On the day Yuan Xi's child was born, the established noble Huo family from A City announced with great fanfare the joy of welcoming a new grandson... Yuan Xi had always thought that her marriage to Huo Shiyen was merely a shotgun wedding, and that Huo Shiyen had someone else he considered his childhood sweetheart and sweetheart under the moonlight. Only later did she realize that she was, in fact, his cherished childhood love.

“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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