MTL - God-level Bodyguard in The City - Chapter 498 Feng Xi against the scales

Every time he dies, Ethan Hill gains a little more power.Earth was chosen for Integration, but Ethan knows from the second his Trial begins that the Integration is a lie. These creatures giving Earth the 'honor' of access to their Interface want something from Earth - he just doesn't know what.Now he's trapped on an alien planet and lost in a time loop, fighting for strength and for his own humanity.One thing's for sure: He'll die as many times as it takes to tear it all down.

Michael Reyes is your typical college student, caught in the relentless cycle of balancing studies and part-time work. As a second-year mechanical engineering student, his days are packed from dawn till dusk. Mornings are dedicated to lectures and coursework, while afternoons are spent at a part-time job that helps him make ends meet. Evenings are his only respite, though often spent more on studying than sleeping, if he gets the chance to rest at all.

His life is a constant juggle, trying to keep up with demanding academic requirements while also contributing financially to his household. He's a hardworking, average student – not the top of his class, but not at the bottom either.

But Michael's life takes an unexpected turn when he gains access to a mysterious Technological System. This system offers him a glimpse into future technologies, granting him knowledge and tools far beyond his time.

When he realized its potential, his first words are.

“I'm going to be rich!”

Follow as Michael build his own business empire rivaling Apple, Microsoft, even Google.

Disclaimer: 'Building a Business Empire with my Technological System' is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author's imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

This book may reference real companies and organizations, but these references are for narrative purposes only and are not intended to depict actual conduct or involvement of these entities. The use of these names and references is not meant to harm, defame, or discredit these companies or organizations.

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After sleeping for over two thousand years, she woke up, only to find she had lost everything and was even going to be sold at an auction by her father.On her way to escape, she met him by chance. He was so handsome and adorable, like a cute little dog. So they got married in a flash.Later, she accidentally met the first interstellar commander whose mask had fallen off. Rumor has it that anyone who sees his true face will die. She trembled with fear, “What a coincidence! You look exactly like my husband!” He said, “I am your husband.”From then on, he clung to her every day, wanting to have a child. She felt regretful: He looks like a wolf now! She misses the little puppy she used to have so much...

“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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