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... d a steady flow of geniuses, albeit not an endless one.


However, thunder geniuses were considered rare among the many geniuses. Although humans had mutated due to spirit energy, most of the changes had affected the physical body. People who could control elements or had abnormal abilities were relatively rare. There were also very few thunder geniuses amongst those who could control the elements.


The same was true for those with the recovery ability.


Of course, desp ...

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After a car accident, Cen Pan lost every loved one aside from her younger brother, who was lying in the ICU. Feeling that she was on the verge of suffocating from the burden of medical fees right after graduation, she was visited by her grandmother in her dream. “Darling, I had a friend who really loves the clothes you design. Would you burn one of them for him? He will pay you handsomely.”

Cen Pan simply found it surreal, but did so anyway so that she could be at ease.

The next night, her grandmother gave her an address and a password in her dream. “Here, this is the password of the safe, and his payment is in there.”

Skeptical, Cen Pan looked for the safe at the address, and found a diamond worth a hundred grand in the safe!

After that, her deceased family members kept appearing in her dreams.

“Darling, it’s going to rain tomorrow—so bring an umbrella.”

“Darling, I met a hacker who had been dead for a hundred years, and he’s asking if you want to inherit his lost art.”

“Darling, do you have a boyfriend? I just made a friend who really wants you to marry his grandson!”

Marry? Cen Pan immediately shook her head, but was stunned when her grandfather showed the grandson’s photo.

Why did he resemble her new boss so much?!

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“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.

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*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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