MTL - God-level Perspective - Chapter 42 to Yunnan

Diagnosed with cancer, she decided to give up the baby in her womb.She had originally planned to have an abortion, get divorced, and then face the arrival of death calmly, hallowing he and his new love to be together.However, he didn't let her go easily. He lingered with her day and night as she grew weaker and weaker, just to leave a child for his infertile new lover.Lying on the hospital bed on the verge of death, she begged, “Take my life and just let me go.”The cold and aloof man knelt in front of her tombstone, holding her favorite gardenias, staying day and night, murmuring with red eyes, “Sweetie, come back. Please don't kidding me...”

“Spiritual Affairs” is a highly popular psychic network, but it is a pity that the whole network is full of ridicule.

The contestants are frequently scolded for their behavior and practices.

But no one knows that this program is a huge hit in the underworld.

Every time the show starts, billions of ghosts are standing in front of the screen watching the program and commenting on it——-

“This guy is bloody, his soul is hooked by a ghost. What’s wrong with my horse’s face?”

“It’s good to touch bones. Can’t you touch the soul without touching the bones?”

“… I don’t see what this method can do, dogs won’t go that way.”

The new season of the program officially announced the new guest.

Gu Zhisang is ridiculed by netizens and become trending in hot searches.

Gu Zhisang the Headmaster of Taoism, opened her eyes and became the vase cannon fodder in the exciting novel about the entertainment circle.

When she transmigrated, she was being hacked by the whole network and facing the dilemma of being robbed of resources and receiving bad traffic.

To revitalize Taoism, Gu Zhisang gladly accepted the invitation.

- 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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