Chapter 12 - Occult Tesseract? More Like, O Dust On The Rack. (1/2)
”HAHAHAHAHA!? WHAT IS THIS!?! WHAT! IS! THIS!? DID I STRIKE ANOTHER JACKPOT!?”
A maniacal laugh came so harmonious from the unbecoming sadist. The moment MF pulled the scroll open apart from each roller. The content within was indescribable at best, unlike the modern technique or cultivation law book where it was explained thoroughly or vaguely to ensure the grasping knowledge level of its reader, this scroll doesn't play nice.
It wasn't the founding that made her as jumpy as a mole, it was because it had been a long time since MF put her hands to something so otherworldly like this. The merchant wasn't a mere mortal, it could be a living deity as far as she knows.
After the laugh, she casually put all the clothing one handed as tight as it should. She paused, and then sighed. ”I didn't understand shit, but at least this was something that I could research in my free time.”
The content of the scroll is not even within this reality, it was fourth dimensional. The fragments of symbols that glowed in purple flames were constantly changing direction and position to no end. Even after a full minute, there wasn't a repeating pattern at all, it's like random bullshit at this point.
She closed the scroll with a satisfied expression, sarcastically. ”If only the scroll didn't make the void inside of me react, I would already throw this garbage to the street. And aww, now my slick cloak caught some of the blood.”
And just like that, she tiptoed her way into searching for her cute wife to relieve her stress. MF was extremely happy, sarcastically. ”Foel~ my Foel~”
She then stored the scroll inside the pocket space pouch as it floated and tumbled on microgravity along with the great amount of mid grade mana crystals. The old man devoid of teeth did give a great deal to a cultivator, kinda makes MF jealous because back then on her time—pocket space storages were a revolutionary invention and it bid an extremely high price that she couldn't afford even after making everyone on the bar go bankrupt due to her gambling skill.
Now those pocket space things were as common as shoulder bags.
”The feeling of putting something into a pocket of ever stretching space reminds me of when I put a coin into my piggy bank, back when it was a thing.”
MF was so adorable back then when she wasn't a crazy homicidal maniac.
”Seriously, writers tend to over exaggerate stuff when in reality I haven't done much sin in comparison to how they made numerous plot holes and left it.”
No! No fourth wall breaking!
Just like that, the venomous wench goes on with her way into her midget wife. And no, the tone definitely didn't change because the writer was upset but the editor is unamused by it. Actually, it was both.
MF could smell her wife miles away from where she was. The moment the green haired tanomobi appeared in her view, she rushed into Foel's position like an annoying eagle.
”Foeeeelllll!” wailed the woman with mental issues, lunging herself as she landed right at the perfect spot which had some mud in it, grabbing at Foel's leg.
Foel who just grabbed an extremely long claymore who attempted to store it in the pocket space was left flabbergasted, with some uncanniness and 'what is this woman doing.'
”Darling, what's up with you?”
”Nothing!” MF said as she got up.
”Geez, now your clothes are dirty.”