Unwritten Fate [BL] - Chapter 61: The Easy Kind of Love

In the end-French era, after countless calamities, the era of cultivation is coming to an end. The last combination of air transportation and evolution has evolved into the treasure board, which was obtained by the last practitioner in the end-French era, which opened up a legend of wandering heavens.

- Description from Uukanshu

After transmigrating to Hong Huang and becoming a minor shaman in Hou Tu’s tribe, Chu Xuan shocked everyone by repeatedly offering poisonous plans in order to avoid becoming Cannon Fodder in the Great Calamity.Who would have thought? The poisonous plans were incredibly effective.The Demon Clan established the Heavenly Court and united countless races?Chu Xuan: Establish the path of the Heavenly Tribulation and share the power with the Heavenly Court. From now on, all beings must undergo the tribulation!In Zixiao Palace, it was said that those without Primordial Spirits couldn’t listen to the Dao?Chu Xuan: Create the path of the Heavenly Demon as a tribulation for Primordial Spirits. All who possess one will suffer!During the war between the Wu race and Demons, countless souls were left with no place to go, and the Calamity Qi of heaven and earth ran rampant. Who asked Hou Tu to reincarnate?Chu Xuan: If you don’t work hard in your cultivation, you’ll end up as brothers in the Ten Thousand Souls Banner.…Chu Xuan: I have a plan that can completely resolve the Great Calamity of the Demons and Wu races!Hou Tu: Chu Xuan, calm down first. Things haven’t come to that point yet.

“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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