
Trophy Saint? No, It's My Private Vault
by Wen Songke
About This Novel
After traveling through time and becoming cannon fodder on the battlefield, I awakened the most practical golden finger - ultimate egoism. On the day of the decisive battle, I picked up the seriously injured demon saint. The comrades were ecstatic: "Report it! What a great military achievement!" I hid her in the bunker with my backhand. Military merit? No. She who is alive is the hardest currency and the most stable treasury in the apocalypse. I calculated calmly: I saved the medical officer who admired me to leave a safe escape route; Let the top assassin owe me the favor of saving my life, just to have an extra sharp knife; Helping the noble lady resolve a dead situation is to obtain scarce resources and intelligence... I controlled everything precisely until one day I discovered: My treasured "treasury" is willing to burn all the divine blood for me; My preset "retreat" determines the empire for me; My tamed "quick knife" blocks the killing blow for me; The "resources" I invested were bet on the whole family for me to win... This selfish war profiteer felt panic for the first time when he looked at the completely out-of-control account book in his hand. --This business seems to be so bad that I will lose all of it?
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