MTL - Young Master Quan, How Have You Been? - Chapter 62 Goddess or broken shoes

I am merely a reviewer, albeit the products I review are slightly different. For example, I review quantum computers, artificial intelligence, anti-gravity mech armor, planetary engines, sublight colonial ships, stellar detonators, etc…

In ancient times, there existed giant spirits capable of supporting the heavens. With bodies as enormous as stars, they soared across the universe. Great clan leaders with mysterious blood running through their veins shattered the void and created new worlds. Ancient Qi Warriors crossed a river of stars to enlighten numerous mortal beings. For unknown reasons, an era silently came to an end, all realms were separated, ancient giant spirits disappeared one after another. Thousands of years later, young Nie Tian managed to travel back into ancient times with the help of a drop of blood…

1. Yan Wei entered a black tower that disappeared into the clouds and accidentally entered a world inside the tower that was filled with all sorts of instances.

In the instances, there were puppets leaning over to kiss a statue, paintings of people without eyes, a pale and dishevelled female ghost with a mouth filled with blood….

Each floor was a level; if you don’t enter, you die. Only those who reach the top can live.

After Yan Wei thoroughly understood the rules, he found that he had a skill called “Half Immortal” —- As long as he was in an instance, he would acquire an immortal body every second day.

Yan Wei: Going wild.jpg

2. Yan Mingguang who was ascending the tower took off his glasses and held a cigarette as he leaned against the wall watching the young man not far away slowly approach the boss.
The young man was calm and composed. With one hand in his pocket, he used his other hand to grab the boss’s hand and carefully examined it. His clear voice carried nonchalance: “Don’t move. Let me see what clues you have on you……Hey, stop struggling. You can’t kill me anyway……..”

The clock ticked past midnight——–

The young man’s calm expression changed immediately. He looked at the boss with eyes filled with fear and turned and ran towards him.
Seeing that the boss was now charging over, Yan Mingguang tossed his cigarette aside, frowned and said coldly: “Let go.”
The young man clung tightly onto him: “No! Save me!!!”
“Not saving.”
The young man’s eyes brightened: “Thank you!!”
Yan Mingguang who found that he had already crushed the boss’s head, “……..”

3. One day, while the instance was being broadcasted.
The players who were watching the broadcast found that the thigh-hugging, weak and useless player Yan Wei had suddenly appeared before the boss all the other players were trying to avoid.
The audience: “??? Is he in a hurry to die??”
The next moment, the young man chased after the boss, shouting, “Stop running, I won’t be too mean!!”
The boss’s face was filled with panic, the audience’s faces were filled with confusion.
This was different from what they had in mind?

*Cold and aloof gong with explosive fighting power who says one thing but does another x sometimes seeking death, sometimes faking cowardice, quick-witted shou

- 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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