EX rank supporting role’s replay in a prestigious school - Chapter 143: That voice sounded much fainter compared to when it was pierced by the Sangboshimgeumpa.

Anna a normal girl waiting to have all her dreams come true falls into a deadly trap when she begins to desire someone she shouldn’t. After being shocked to reality of her boyfriends betrayal she dives head first into the flames of sin with the Don of the underworld.
Ren a ruthless cold heartless man lusts for someone he shouldn’t but can’t let go. He just didn“t realize how taboo she was an...

In the spring of year 6823 of the New Calendar, Lu Xuan, an unregistered resident of the Federation, hid outside a high school classroom and secretly learned a Cultivation Skill, embarking on the path of Cultivation.On the same day, he returned home and had a dream, just as he always did. In the dream, he was in the Guardian Storage Room during the Spring and Autumn Period in Chinese history（770-481 BCE）, and the current Keeper of the Records was named Li Er, also known as Laozi.Later, Lu Xuan dreamed that he became the succeeding Keeper of the Records, became Confucius's second teacher, became the senior brother of Zhang Daoling, the Ancestral Celestial Master, and became the honorary father of the First Emperor...Even later, someone unearthed a roll of bamboo slips from the ground, on which an event was recorded.[The eighteenth Keeper of the Records, Lu Xuan, his Sword Qi like a waterfall, assassinated Duke Huan of Qi in his bedchamber]

“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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Yan Xi was the eldest young lady of Beiqiao City’s top four families, the Yan family. Despite her talents, she was sickly and destined to die young. She was an unattainable dream girl for many.

One day, she had a dream, and the setting was in a novel. In the novel, for the sake of alleviating his pain of losing his wife, and soon his daughter as well, her father adopted a girl named Chen Xiangxiang who looked just like her. The girl was docile as a deer and very therapeutic, which made her all the more lovable. This girl became her substitute, and after a series of heart-wrenching incidents, everyone, from her father, brother, fiance, to her friends, they all doted on this girl. Meanwhile, she, the real rich daughter, was schemed against. After being disfigured, she jumped from a building and fell to her death.

Now, she returned to the moment when she was just discharged and before the tragedies happened. She lowered her head and looked at the person before her. She smirked. This time, she would control every development, and those who intended to harm her could forget about escaping.