Checking in for 100,000 Years - Chapter 634: Once you’re here, you need to follow the rules, understand?

Pick one of the 100 lord characters to be the final winner of the game “Territory Wars”.I became the first person in the world to complete the game using the world’s worst shitty character, Otto de Scuderia.I’m thrilled to see my name in the Hall of Fame, but I’ve been possessed into the game in the body of Otto de Scuderia, the worst of the worst.The memory of the experience is clouding my mind, but…If there’s no turning back, let’s just enjoy it.This time as the real Otto de Scuderia.

This novel is also known as Farming And Learning Martial Arts To Bring Peace

The world is difficult and dangerous. Chi Qiaosong’s family has only three acres of thin fields, but he allowed him to grow a splendid world.

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Two? Two new stories, Bai Yuhan worked hard to conceive, please watch.

- Description from novelbuddy

The Fourth Brother had squandered his wealth through gambling, leaving their mother in a critical state. To make matters worse, the creditors even asked them to sell Manbao to settle the debts!In the village, whispers spread that the golden days of the Zhou Family's cherished Manbao were over. Their elderly mother clung to Manbao's hand, tears streaming down her face.However, Manbao tightly grasped a system in her hand, a tool that would lead her and her brothers and sisters-in-law to reclaim their fortunes. They ventured into agriculture, cultivating land, growing medicinal herbs, and establishing shops, steadily improving their lives.As their situation improved, concerns shifted to Manbao's marital prospects by the sister-in-laws.“Mr. Zhuang's grandson is an excellent match – educated and well-spoken. He is just perfect for you.”“No! You should consider Mr. Qian's youngest son, who is handsome and well-mannered. You can count on him never to defy you.”Suppressing a smile, Manbao responded, “My heart is already set. I choose Bai Shanbao, my childhood friend whom I've playfully scolded since we were young.”

“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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