The Real Young Miss's Secret Identities Revealed - Chapter 1179 - Malicious Online Article

At level 2, most people unlocked their first talent; those who didn’t were considered fortunate, as they had the potential to unlock rarer talents requiring higher levels. The world’s most rare and powerful talents were revealed at level 5. But what if someone didn’t obtain a talent? Luck quickly turned to misfortune as they were labeled talentless, with no hope of gaining a talent. Sol was one such person who was unable to unlock his talent, but he refused to give up. He persistently fought and trained every day, slowly increasing his level despite the disadvantage in skills. He held onto the hope that, one day, he would be bestowed with a talent like everyone else. As years passed, his determination began to wane until one fateful day. You have leveled up! +5 Free stats. Talent Unlocked - [Siphoner]! This event marked the beginning of his story.

Everyone in the world knows that the four schools of touching gold, moving mountains, unloading mountains, and Faqiu have their own strengths. Even if it withers, the fame is too heavy for this doujianghu to hold his head up.

But they don’t know, if the leaders of these four sects gather together, what kind of power will they have.

Wei Chuan came across and awakened the luck system.

All you need to do is get the artifact, kill the evil spirits, and complete the system tasks. You can get luck points, exchange for all kinds of precious blood, endless unique skills…even immortal gods.

The opening is Xuanwu’s precious blood, the overlord’s halberd technique, smashing under the darkness.

Millennium mechanisms, demons and ghosts, smash them with one halberd!

With precious blood in her body, ten thousand spells in her palm, sweeping across ten thousand tombs!

- Description from novelbuddy

Jack died an embarrassing death and was reborn as Tony Stark in the Marvel Multiverse. He found out that the reality he was reborn in was a mixture of The Marvel Ultimates, other Comics, and a little bit of MCU, which wasn't good news for him. Too many enemies and unknowns. No way of knowing which event will happen when. No way of knowing who is good or who is bad.Thus begins Jack/Tony's journey of survival. He will do anything to survive and achieve his goals, no matter the cost.---Before you ask> No, this isn't a part of any previous series. This is a new ff.---MC isn't a saint. He'll do anything for survival. And MC won't be OP in battle from the start. He'll struggle and learn from failures and improve, for the first part. And this is a technological advance world. Finally, DON'T COMPARE REAL LIFE TO A FANFIC AND THEN ARGUE.---[The cover picture is AI-generated.][I don't own DC or Marvel except for my own OC][Harem? >Yes.]----Support Link:-https://www.patreon.com/XcaliburXc [15-17 advance chapters]----------

“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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