MTL - I Know Everything - Chapter 11 Be cold

Shion, the ‘Hero of Darkness’. He was said to be the strongest hero ever. He believed one thing, and that was his current party members.

“I’ll defeat the Demon Lord with this party!”

That is what he swore to do, but a tragedy occurs. He was painfully betrayed by the girls that he trusted.

He barely held onto his life, but the incident left a deep scar in his heart.

He gave up on living, and while he was wandering around in a forest, looking for a way to die, a single monster appeared in front of him.

“Will you kill me, please?”

The monster asked Shion, who was still strong, despite losing his powers.

What Shion, who wanted to die as well, did was―

Song Haotian, an old man with dementia, was deserted by his children. This kind of news was common on the Internet. However, such an insignificant event actually led to a series of events.

Song Haotian’s adopted daughter made false claims about him in order to be selected for a talent show. The netizens cyberbullied the old man in order to protect their idol. Just when the netizens thought this case would end satisfactorily with the adopted daughter winning, an unexpected scene played out.

The head of East Asian Chamber of Commerce, the elder of an ancient martial arts clan, the beautiful CEO of the world’s most powerful security company, the head of the nation-renowned Chinese Medicine Association, and many other families and factions were involved in the case due to the false claim.

Later, the netizens finally found out the true identity of Song Haotian and how powerful he was. However, it was too late now.

“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.]

……………………………………………………………

Dear readers! Without any ads, maybe you will prefer .

Ever met someone who started cultivating from his mother’s womb?