MTL - My Disciple Died Yet Again - v3 Chapter 381 Don't abstract, be realistic

She gave up her wealth and power to save her husband and his company when they were on the brink of extinction.However he repaid her by bringing home his childhood sweetheart and divorcing her! He insulted her, called her names, a cheap lowly bitch and a gold-digger. Her sister in law treated her like trash, her mother in law called her a scheming fox who wanted to climb the social ladder.Fine! Divorce so it is then!Left without a single penny, she applied for a job and became a waitress. Who would know she bumped into her ex husband and his new fiancée there?!But there was another man whose business contract she accidentally discarded.That mysterious man came to her with a condition.“You made me lost a very important business contract, now you must pay,”“How much? I don't have money. I'm not for sale either,” the girl raised her chin arrogantly.“Become my fake girlfriend. I need a woman to please my grandfather,” Shentu Jing said. His charming dark eyes seemed to be tempting her, luring her into an abyss.But when she arrived in front of his grandfather, he announced her as his fiancée!“I thought you said I was your girlfriend!” Qin Zhuzhu glared daggers at him.“Sorry, now you are my wife,” the man's peach blossom eyes gazed at her lovingly.Who is this mysterious husband of hers?One day her phone rang with a notification of the latest financial news. There, she saw a man similar to her husband. Her husband is the richest Tycoon in the capital???!!!

“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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