Waiting For You Online - Chapter 179

A lonely soul, which was placed under the care of the Lord Protector’s Manor, ended up having her lover stolen by the family’s eldest daughter and dying tragically the day before her wedding.

Somehow, she was reborn in the family as their 14-year-old first wife’s daughter, Ning Xueyan, with a startlingly familiar face.

Step by step, she will ruthlessly scheme to seek revenge as well as uncover the mystery of her tragic death.

Her former fiancee, the flirty crown prince and the bloodthirsty prince, will now bear witness to a vengeful Ning Xueyan becoming the peerless lady of her generation…

Chu Qianze turned the pen in his hand in a circle and smashed it against the drum next to him, the loud drum sound resounding around him.

Facing the two people who looked over at him together, he pulled out a polite smile, which was very dazzling under the neon light.

“I’m sorry, you are ruining my eyes.”

Later:

Feeling the gazes of the people around him, the flashing lights that flared from time to time, and a few gasps, Chu Qianze’s mouth twitched: “Is this a new way to surprise people?”

***

Chu Qianze, who had just arrived in the world and was getting acquainted with his surroundings, was inexplicably pulled by a man and was held in his arms.

“I already have someone I like; it’s him!”

Chu Qianze looked at the person blankly, but saw that the other person turned his eyes away, his breath a little disordered.

“..?”

- Description from Novelupdates

In the year 2139, the world changed. Fundamentally and irrevocably.

Everything happened too quickly. The sky cracked like an egg and armored dinosaur-like monsters lurched out of the fissure. The split, though small at first, quickly widened. Within a few short hours, these beasts had overrun the world.

Countries, even those who had been enemies for centuries, sounded a global alarm. Political differences were cast aside as humans scrambled to find a solution—any solution—to what became known as the Great Disaster 1.0.

Human experimentations began, first in reluctance, then in earnest. As days turned into weeks and weeks into months, failure rates remained high. Desperate for results, global authorities started turning a blind eye to how experimental subjects were sourced.

Countless victims were kidnapped and trafficked to state-run laboratories. Shi Tian was but one of them. But unlike those who died nameless, in pain, and unrecognizable, he had the fortune of surviving after being injected with humanity’s last hope—an integrated chip.

Except… the chip remained dormant. It seemed that certain circumstances must be met before the chip could be activated. What those circumstances were, even the scientists in charge could not answer.

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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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