MTL - Mercenaries and Adventurers - ~ Happy New Year

Summary 1) Tang Yuan suffered from a strange illness, so because of this, Tang Yuan pounced upon Xie Yu. A month later, Tang Yuan discovered that Xie Yu was a big shot in the world of tianshi (Taoist Masters), his existence the greatest fear of numerous ghosts. But that big shot was now obligated to marry him, because he was carrying the big shot’s steamed bun.

One year later:
Xie Yu: “Isn’t it time for our pup to be born?”
Two years later:
Xie Yu: “Don’t worry about it. Maybe you’re carrying a nezha (protection deity who was carried for 3.5 years in mother’s womb)?”
Three years later:
Xie Yu: “You really are probably carrying a nezha!”
Ten Years later:
Xie Yu: “Shall we not just give birth to this child? Since he’s obviously not ready, let’s beat him up!”
Pup: “I will remember this animosity for the rest of my life!”

After being carried for ten years and one month, the steamed bun was finally born. The steamed bun was white and tender at birth, extremely loveable. But on just his first day after being born, the steamed bun kicked his father, Xie Yu, in the face with his tender foot.

Summary 2) After Tang Yuan became pregnant with a steamed bun, life was a little difficult, with catching ghosts and also giving prenatal education to their child, yes, prenatal education. But he did teach, he taught for ten whole years. Then Tang Yuan said: Who wants a bratty steamed bun? Who wants me to give them one?

Shou, Tang Yuan, a heavens-defying genius VS Gong, Xie Yu, with off the charts gentleness

Not a scientific/natural pregnancy, no pregnant belly, the steamed bun is born in the final arc (though the steamed bun often appears), fluffy supernatural story, try not to be too scared.

- Description from Novelupdates

In this world, mystery and the supernatural never depart.Those who, with bodies honed through thousands of trials and indomitable wills, break the chains of life and pursue human limits in modern cities, are known as martial artists.Under neon lights, swords clash. At the tops of towering buildings, friendships are made through fists.Among mountains and peaks, heroes discuss their ways.Here, martial artists who have broken the “seven physical limits” carve their godlike names under the heavens, stunning both the ancient and modern worlds and making the stars shine brighter!Here, the once-in-a-decade “World Martial Arts Tournament” broadcast is the highest rated program globally, where martial artists fight for their nation and themselves!Here, martial artists, with their mortal flesh, combat dark spirits and mythical beasts in life and death battles to protect their homeland's civilization.Here, every true martial artist unswervingly believes:“The martial way is boundless; my body is unfettered!”

“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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