The Extra of The Lunerra - Chapter 413 - 46: A Broken Man

Jiang Yining was transmigrated to a cultivation world and became the master of the Tianyan Sect.

Unfortunately, the sect was broke and he only had three disciples. Just as everything was about to fall even further apart, he received the Golden Finger.

To make it even more interesting, the Golden Finger was an idle cultivation game that Jiang Yining had played in his previous world.

[Welcome back, long-time player. You will inherit your old account that has been idled for a million years.]

From the game, Jiang Yining could receive martial arts, resources, fates, buildings, skills, and even spiritual roots from checking in and completing quests.

He vowed that he would use the rewards to grow his own sect.

In the world of cultivation existed prestigious families, sects, kingdoms, and even celestial sects. Everyone’s goal was to ascend to a celestial being.

However, years later, Jiang Yining and his Tianyan Sect sat on the Long River and looked down at the people still struggling in the celestial realm.

Lu Zhiguang is not a cannon fodder himself, but his mission is to save the miserable cannon fodder.

A businessman who lost in a business game. A teenager who kept silent under school violence. The actor whose road to fame was ruined by cyber violence. An unknown man who was misunderstood until the day he died.

There can only be one protagonist in every world, so fate hides in the corner sending it’s cold tentacles toward the innocent.

Some people stay silent, some choose to compromise, some are unwilling, and some are fulfilled.

There should always be individuals to hug them.

So the Lu Zhiguang went to hug.

Then people will not let go.

- 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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