A-List Actress: Paper Marriage but Pampering Billionaire - Chapter 707: The Storm is Coming

All Pete wanted was to be buried in wine grapes. Was that too much to ask?Now he's in a fantasy world, far from home, and stuck underground in the body of a smelly dwarf with fantastic facial hair. The worst part though? The swill that the dwarves are falling all over themselves to drink. Its flat, it's watery, and it has the alcohol content of a rancid coconut. Can Pete save the dwarves from their own Sour fate, or will he be forever doomed to plink his pickaxe away in hopes that he hits the mother lode. Come for the cozy fantasy, stay for the beer puns that will leave you hop-ping mad! A bubbly slice of life LitRPG with love, laughter, and a little melancholy, just like drinking a bottle of Whitbier on the beach. Has some monster fights but no real gore. No elves or harems allowed.

In the last life, Jiang Xi, who loves acting, devoted her heart and soul to Yuan Jinchen, and she worked hard for her acting skills, and finally gave up to become a first-line star for him. As a result, the Yuan Jinchen brought another woman to their house, intimate in front of her, so she accidentally fell to the floor and died.

In this life, she re-entered the showbiz circle. Jiang Xi said that she would live for herself. She would not give up her career for the scum. The person who harmed her in the last life stood at a low place to bear her dazzling light. But Star Road is not a thoroughfare, beauty and acting skills are not enough to support her to go on smoothly. She needed a backstage that would give her stability.

“So when you marry me, I’ll be your backstage .” Jiang Xi just blinked and agreed. Jiang Xi, who marries Qin Cheng in a low-key manner, is starry, and occasionally there are a few jumping clowns to make trouble.

- Description from Novelupdates

I was betrayed in my first life.A cripple, broken and discarded—I died after catching the one I loved in bed with the only person I ever called a friend.That was the start of real torment.When I woke up, it was in another world.A goddess stood before me.She told me I could go back.Back to my world.Back to everything I lost.All I had to do… was play my part.The side character.And I did.I followed the script.Played my role to perfection.They hated me.Mocked me.Used me.Again and again.But I kept going. Because I believed her.Because I wanted to go home.Then one day, I found out.The hard way.It was all a lie.There was no going back.There never was.She used me.Again.Just like everyone else.Thrown away like trash once I outlived my usefulness.That was the day something inside me snapped.And so, I made a vow.I would take everything from her.I would enslave every single heroine she chose.And I would kill the hero she placed all her hopes on.If she wanted to protect this world…Then I would burn it down.But the more I tried, the more things started to change.And then one day—I found one of the heroines.One of the hero's yanderes I had enslaved.She stood there, trembling, a knife in her hand.“You’re not going anywhere,” she whispered, eyes wild.“I won’t let them have you. You belong to me.”...What. The. Fuck. Is. Happening?!

“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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