She Belongs To The Devil - Chapter 12 - Another Attack

“I’m no angel, baby girl. I’ll make you cry, curse, and scream every night once you’re mine. So think twice before you sign this goddamn contract.”+++Rivana Faye thought nothing could get worse than catching her husband and step-sister making out on their wedding anniversary, only to be shot dead the same day.Instead of the afterlife, Rivana woke up back in the past, on her wedding day, staring right into the eyes of the same bastard who had ruined her life. Fueled by vengeance, she planned to marry him and tear his world apart, just as he had done to her in her previous life.That is, until Azrael Dynar, her supposed husband’s older brother, stepped in with a shocking claim: that they were already married?!“Wifey, are you cheating on me with this tiny loser? Tch, you have poor taste,” Azrael drawled, flashing their marriage certificate to everyone's horror.Azrael was everything Rivana had heard in hushed whispers: cold, cunning, and irresistibly seductive. But to her, he was oddly caring and fiercely protective. He even vowed to destroy everyone who had hurt her as long as she continued to be his side, as his darling wife!And the deeper Rivana sank into Azrael’s world, the more her defenses crumbled, leaving her with nothing but growing desires for him. Little did she know, the man she was falling for was no guardian angel but a devil—one responsible for her death, and the very one who could destroy her all over again.---Excerpt:“You seem to have experience in seducing women, Mr. Dynar,” Rivana joked, licking her ice cream.Azrael smirked at her laugh, and the next moment, he pulled her chair closer, causing Rivana's heart to skip a beat. Before she could catch her breath, he suddenly captured her lips, tasting the sweet chocolate on her lips.Pulling back slightly, Azrael smiled, enjoying her reaction. Tracing her lower lip with his thumb, he declared, “You are the first woman I have ever tried to seduce, Rain. And you will also be the last.”

Sun Hao traveled to a world of cultivating immortals. Unable to cultivate, he practices the guqin, chess, calligraphy, poetry, wine, and flower tea are all in the supreme realm. He didn’t know: The pet on his farm was the Nine Heavens God Luan. The lotus in the pond is a peerless demon. The guard outside the door is the ruler of Thunder Tribulation. Later, he discovered: The swordsman who picked up his broken hatchet became the peerless generation of swordsman; the scholar who often listened to him to chant became the ancestor of Buddhism; the girl who came to learn to play the guqin with him became the supreme demon clan. … Sun Hao sat on the throne of Heavenly Emperor, with a shocked expression on his face: Am I a Dao Ancestor? I take the heaven and the earth as the disc and all beings as my sons, and create a shocking situation? I do not know how?

“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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Ji Liao was particularly distressed lately. He had been “sexually harassed” (confessed to) for no reason (out of nowhere). Moreover, the other party was a man! Never mind that it was a man but it was well-known *class grass.