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... ocheng's account.

Damn, he's not his opponent right now, according to that guy's urine, maybe he will be robbed, stabilized, wait for his strength to get back to him!

Not only to find a place, but also interest!

Twenty-eight points of merit, let's not pit him, even if the interest rate is one percent a day, 365 percent a year, um, yes, rounded up, it will be forty times a year. !!

Set a small goal first, and take back the profit within one year!

Think of buying ...

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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.

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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In the third year of the Kaihuang era, as the Great Sui began to unfold between the fall of the Northern Dynasties and the rise of the glorious Tang Dynasty, Emperor Yang Jian created the House of Blades – an intelligence agency for strategies and conspiracies – in preparation to unify the world.

On a snowy night, a convoy of tribute from the Kingdom of Khotan was raided. Not one soul survived the attack. Feng Xiao, Second Commandant of the House of Blades, was ordered by the Emperor to investigate the matter in person.

On the distant border, a storm brewed as major forces gathered from all sides in Liugong Town. The strong rubbed shoulders with the strong; the skilled crossed paths with the skilled.

Here, the ever-successful Second Commandant Feng ran into a wall for the first time – all because of a feeble Taoist priest with ailing health.

Some things would never be known if no fights were ever picked. Only through their skirmishes did Feng Xiao realise that this sick bastard seemed to have way more aliases and personas than he himself ever did.

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MTL - COS Dazai Osamu’s I Got Into the Conan CrewChapter 1111 Do you need help?
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[No heroine, no emotional line, no ambiguity, a lot of private settings, a comprehensive world view, I am an organization. 】

[There is a story about an undercover police officer with real wine, there is a possibility of death for the red party, and both Bourbon and Scotland are real wine]

“Name.”

“Osamu Dazai.”

“gender.”

“A man without a doubt.”

“age.”

“14.”

“The code name of the Black Organization.”

“Cahor.”

“Why did you join the Black Organization?”

“Well, because I’m the adopted son of that gentleman.”

[This article is also known as Osamu Dazai of COS. I recognized a thief as a father in the Conan crew. I am not disqualified in this world. I am full of fighting skills. I appeared in Japan the next second at the comic exhibition and became a three-year-old slaughter]

[There will be other vests. ][The elegant party and the gangsters stay away from me][Writing to play, don’t gangster]

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