MTL - Proficiency: Cultivated 10 Million Times - Chapter 17 Seven hundred and eight island town

The most important duty of a Taoist priest is getting rid of monsters and exorcising ghosts, raising his temple’s reputation! Though, well, Xie Lingya is not a Taoist priest, he just has the Immortal Roots…

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Some people can learn in a day what takes others ten years of hard work. Xie Lingya is like this – other people have to cleanse themselves and meditate to draw talismans, he can do it as easy as drinking a glass of water. Unfortunately, in this era, graduating from a renowned university is much more valuable than the talent for cultivation. He who has the Immortal Roots finally chose to study finance.

However, the world is unpredictable. His uncle, a Taoist priest, died unexpectedly, leaving his temple to Xie Lingya. His last wish was for his nephew to find the right person to inherit his sect’s teachings.

So Xie Lingya, who had no intentions to become a Taoist, ended up as… the owner of a Taoist temple. He began to earnestly manage the deserted little place, striving to gain believers. He also struggled to recruit priests, in hope of finding a suitable successor for his uncle. After a chance encounter, his target became Shi Changxuan, who came from an influential Taoist family and had outstanding skills. Not scared off by the man’s aloof personality, he struck up a conversation and tried to get his phone number. He didn’t realize this move could be easily misunderstood…

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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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I died in an explosion—a betrayal engineered by the man I trusted most.But instead of the end, I woke up in a new body. A noblewoman’s body. Evelina, disgraced and hated, accused of poisoning the Crown Prince of a kingdom where werewolves rule the land.And worse?The man whose life I supposedly tried to end is now my fated mate.Damian, the Crown Prince, is as cold as the moonlight that binds us, his piercing silver eyes filled with distrust every time they land on me. He doesn’t believe my innocence, and frankly, I don’t care.My only priority is survival in this dangerous, medieval world—and figuring out why fate decided to shove me into the life of a traitor.But the longer I’m near Damian, the harder it is to ignore the pull between us—the undeniable heat of the mate bond that makes his touch electric and his presence intoxicating.Enemies lurk in the shadows, including the woman who thinks she should be his Luna. Court intrigue spirals out of control, and the person behind Evelina’s betrayal might be closer than I realize.Damian’s trust is my only shield, but when the truth of my transmigration comes to light, I’m not sure even that will be enough to save me.Because in this world, it’s not love that conquers all—it’s power. And mine might not be enough.

On the night when the savior of the wizarding world should have been born, Harry Potter died under the unforgivable curse.

The man who made almost all British wizards dare not call him by name, regained the wisdom and ambition that belonged to him from the Horcrux.

Darkness has completely enveloped the island of Great Britain.

Wizards are divided into high and low according to their bloodlines. Pure blood firmly holds the authority that belongs to the superior, and people called mudbloods can only be as humble as mud and trampled on throughout their lives.

The Ministry of Magic, which is supposed to enforce justice, is full of villains, and the castle, which is supposed to impart knowledge, is full of oppression.

In these dark times.

Jon Green, who came from across time, was brought into the exiled carriage that truly inherited the title of “Hogwarts”…

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