His Beloved Treasure - Chapter 954 - 274, can we do it one more time, please?_3

Wang Chen unexpectedly transmigrated to a world of immortal cultivation.He became a Qi Cultivation junior in the Outer Sect of the Cloud Sun Sect in Dongcang State.Within the sect, the hierarchy was stringent and the power struggles were fierce;Outside the sect gates, Demons roamed and Evil Wraiths were rampant!Wang Chen, who was weak in strength, decided to lay low until the end of time.However, with time goes by…He persisted and was surprised to realize that he had already unexpectedly become a Bigwig!!!

The Pantheon of Gods dethroned the Titan Race, ushering a new age called the Era of Gods.In this Era, the Gods decided to create a new race in their own image and have this race serve them. This race was called the Mortal Race. However, in a twist of fate, these beings known as Mortals not only inherited the Gods' image, but also their ambition.Thus, the Mortals who was once deemed as an inferior race by the Gods created a method of cultivating the world's natural energy to become Immortals and stand next to the Gods.The Jade Emperor, the strongest of the Immortals, besiege the Pantheon of Gods and carved out a place at the summit for Mortals, allowing them to become one of the Divine Races, along with the God Race, the Celestial Race, and the Titan Race.However, in retaliation, the Gods divided the world into the Heavenly Realm, and the countless Mortal Realms before casting all the Mortals down to the Mortal Realms. They then blocked their ascension to the Heavenly Realm and their path of cultivating to Immortality, by cursing their entire race to face a series of Heavenly Tribulations.That event was a very, very long time ago. So long ago that the story was all but lost in the history of the Mortal Realms.***'…I'm not as strong as you think Sol. I'm too weak to save the village, that's why I need you to leave. Goodbye son…'After his father was murdered and his peaceful village massacred, Sol woke up to find a mysterious old man standing over him claiming to be his new Master.“You want revenge, don’t you? I’ll train you so you have the strength to take it, but you have to become my one and only disciple first!”***This coming-of-age story follows Solovin Iziah Solaris, a village boy with a mysterious past who is stuck between two Realms. Watch as he grows from a clever, but naive youth, into someone who has to shoulder the world.

This book narrates the joyful cultivation tale of an ordinary commonplace university student and a cute and coquettish little fox.

Please observe this human-animal… *cough* …human-demon love story.

- 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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