MTL - Reign of the Hunters - v6 Chapter 61 Air combat

Teotihuacan, a sacred place of worship. In the vast world, feel the quaint and desolate ancient city, and the eagle cries and the leopard roars are chasing away.

Go back to Central America 700 years ago, when the Aztecs were very prosperous.

The priests stood at the top of the pyramid of the sun. One hundred thousand warriors covered the entire wilderness. fluttering. The high priest held his hands high, and the obsidian dagger gleamed in the sun, drawing a cruel and gorgeous arc, bringing the cycle of life back to the earth. Tens of thousands of cheers sounded, with the reverence of the ignorant era.

This was a gift dedicated to the sun god, in return for the sacrifice of the gods in creating the world.

Solemn sacrifices from sunrise to sunset, all-night revelry ignited the whole night, and so on for a hundred years, until white-skinned terrors came from the east coast, bringing blood, thunder, monsters, and disease.

Doomsday, as legend has it, or the end of the Fifth Era?

How can a traveler, in this fierce era, inherit the legacy of two thousand years of ancient Mesoamerican civilization, resist the invasion of Western colonizers with an immortal soul, and lead the ancient Aztec civilization to a new path ~~

- Description from novelbuddy

A novel revolving around being transported to another world with an op system. The mc spends his day chasing skirts and doing missions to level up. A standard journey to the top with lots of girls from various animes and games with a twist of that gaming feel (hunting mobs, doing missions).

- Description from novelupdates

The all-mighty CEO of the Mo Corporation, Mo Shiting, fell into a trap and got into a flash marriage, and the culprit was an unknown little girl.

Everyone was shocked!

It was said that the young master of the Mo family was cold-blooded, cruel, and decisive. The little girl must be in trouble now, they thought. But what they didn’t know was that this little girl, called Gu Li, was not only eccentric and thick-skinned, but she was also very good at sweet-talking. She was born to subdue Mo Shiting. Until one day—

Reporter: “Young Master Mo, please use a phrase to describe yourself.”

Mo Shiting: “A wife-doting maniac.”

Reporter: “Are there no other phrases you can use to describe yourself?”

Mo Shiting: “Afraid of my wife?”

Everyone else: “Young Master Mo, blink if you’ve been kidnapped.”

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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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