MTL - Your Majesty, the Empress is on the Battlefield Again! - Chapter 42 , There is a sense of sight when looking at people of the same kind.

Author's message to webnovel readers:Hello everyone, I am Morning Star LL, and I am delighted to meet you all in this way!To be honest, I never imagined that my work would have such a large readership outside China. I was absolutely astonished when my editor told me there were thousands of comments. Before this, my writings were primarily aimed at Chinese readers, and it never crossed my mind that my words would one day be translated into another language.I am both humbled and grateful.I am also extremely honored that my recent work, “This Game is Too Real,” has been given the opportunity to reach an international audience.Unlike my previous works, this book is probably the one into which I've invested the most time and effort. It is set in a fictional post-apocalyptic wasteland.The story mainly revolves around a once-thriving civilization that collapses overnight after a disaster. The MC from Earth uses a legacy system to disguise the entire world as a game, leading players on a quest to save civilization. It intertwines the fates of the struggling survivors in the wasteland with mutual redemption, while also uncovering the historical truths buried beneath the dust.This book contains several easter eggs with “Scholar's Advanced Technological System,” but mentioning them might spoil the story, so I'll leave it to the readers to discover!Moreover, the overall tone of the book remains cheerful and light-hearted. Despite the world being harsh and full of danger, I believe that even in the darkest moments, the warmth and resilience inherent in humanity will continue to shine brightly, emitting the power to dispel the darkness.It would be my greatest honor if my words resonate with you! And the word “resonate” is also a major clue within the story itself.Thank you!by Morning Star LL——————————————This game is too freaking realistic!Bricklaying, running errands, picking up trash, delivering parcels... At most, the company lets you experience the hardships of a 996 schedule, but here you can feel the extreme bonus of 007.Alright, enough chit-chat, the great Manager has called me to lay some bricks.That Manager said that as long as we work our livers off, he can get a brand-new set of power armor next month, and then he'll take us to explore a brand new map, picking up even more trash in the vast Wasteland!...After teleporting to the Waste World, Chu Guang discovered that he had unlocked the “shelter system” and could summon creatures called “players” from a parallel world.From that day on, nothing in the Waste World was normal anymore.

“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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