MTL - My Disciple Died Yet Again - v3 Chapter 407 Fruit manager

In the era of steam and mystery, becoming a correspondence student at the Thaumatology Academy was something Shad never thought of.

A whispering voice rang in my ears, who was reciting the poems of foreigners——

The old gods and aliens,

When the brassy rings of fate turn,

The golden runes are flickering.

steam surge,

the fire flickers,

Relic echoes,

The old gods revived.

The outstretched hand after the thick fog,

Pull back the hazy curtain of the crazy age.

Guests from afar explore the lands of the Old Continent,

Striking the melody of the next era.

Came here through the gate of time,

Shad put down his suitcase,

Look at the silvery moonlight overhead.

- Description from novelbuddy

What is a genius? Capable of comprehending any battle skill regardless of the skill itself and sweeping away the bottlenecks while cultivating a new technique; this is a true genius! He Yiming was originally an ordinary youngster in the He family’s estate with not too extraordinary aptitude in learning martial arts.

However, after a fortuitous encounter, this ordinary youngster became what people refer to as genius in a single leap. Possessing an aptitude for learning martial arts which would leave people in awe, regardless of whether it’s his clan’s Houtian Scripture of Five Phases or various Xiantian scriptures of legends. Regardless of whether it’s mental techniques or battle skills, he can comprehend them all in their entirety at a frightening speed. Martial God, with martial as its name, using the most simple and direct approach, thrives!

- Description from Novelupdates

Interpol Chu Nanzhi traveled to the last years of the Dahe Empire, and became a wicked woman hated by thousands of miles and eight villages and a vicious mother of four little ones.

But on the first day after transmigrating, she encountered a catastrophe of extermination. She used her past life director to help the original owner’s husband get rid of the crime, and saved herself and the four little ones.

Back home, Lin Jinxiao and the four little ones still hated her and were always wary of her.

Looking at Lin Jinxiao and the four little ones who were sick in bed, Chu Nanzhi didn’t want to give up the truth, and decided to wait until Lin Jinxiao recovered from his injury, reconcile with him, and promised to take care of the little ones temporarily.

Because of being highly valued by the county magistrate and wealthy households, Chu Nanzhi took advantage of this time to become a proficient detective and supported her family by investigating cases. She assisted the county magistrate in solving many cases and gradually changed the attitude of her neighbors towards her.

Later, Chu Nanzhi proposed to make peace with Lin Jinxiao, but the four little ones refused at first.

She went out to handle a case, and the four little ones were afraid that she would never return, so they chased after her: “Mother, we want to go with you,”

When she came to Beijing to meet her, the county magistrate took her hand and refused to let go: “You are already the mother of four children.”

One day, when Lin Jinxiao became the emperor, he put his arms around Chu Nanzhi and said, “You have been trying the case for so many years, so stay in the palace and try it on me, I have grievances!”

- Description from novelbuddy

“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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