Douluo: I Just Made Everything Up - Chapter 166: Personality Can Also Be Cultivated

In the world birthed by Pangu, the Three Sovereigns lit the spark of humanity that the Five Emperors would later fan into a blazing fire, eternally branding humanity as the leaders of the world….

This was a time where twilight had descended on the reign of the Human Sovereign and the Five Emperors had yet to emerge – humanity was merely one of the myriad races wandering about the vast cosmos.

This was a desolate and barren era. The monsters, devils, heavenly gods, and deities of all races stood aloft; with the demons, heavenly souls, and spirits dancing freely around the world.

The humans were still a feeble and burgeoning race, often taken as livestock and offered as sacrifices to the pantheon of races that ruled the world together from within the great wilderness.

This was not the era of the Foreworld, but the barbaric and untamed era of uncivilization!

Let us rewind back to China’s ancient and classical mythology and recount the legendary tale of how a single figure led humanity out of an epoch of darkness and into a new dawn.

Please sit back, relax and enjoy the (Rise of Humanity) !

Mu Mu transmigrated in the novel that had the plot like a fraud marriage with a man dressed in women’s clothing, rich man regretting and taking revenge after rebirth.

The body he had transmigrated into was none other than that of a scumbag who was a fraud man dressed in women’s clothing. He was also the one that the protagonist took revenge against.

And now, he was standing at the door of the Civil Affairs Bureau with that damn protagonist, holding the newly-released marriage certificate in his hand.

Mu Mu agitatedly raised his head. He saw the fierce and sinister expression on that damn protagonist. He was twitching the corners of his mouth, showing a grim smirk of wishing to eat his blood and flesh.

Mu Mu’s legs were weak and his eyes turned dark. He was trembling: “My good brother, why don’t we get a divorce?”

- Description from Novelupdates

“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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