In 1950, smoke curled above the courtyard homes of Beiping. Jia Dongxu, a newlywed worker, woke up with the soul of an overworked office drone who had transmigrated.
Living in an era of reconstruction, he earned a meager wage and struggled to make ends meet. Neighbors were constantly at odds, and life was a hard slog.
Then he unexpectedly gained a golden finger and quietly changed his fate.
He had a thousand-cubic-meter storage space, could summon objects from within ten meters with a thought, and could exchange kills for modern supplies.
While others worried about ration coupons, he secretly stockpiled penicillin and refined salt. On the battlefield, he appeared and vanished like a ghost, keeping supplies flowing without end.
From the front lines to the rear, from soldier to security chief, he became a “ghost of the battlefield,” revered by his comrades as a god of war.
In the years to come, he would protect his family, help modernize the factory, and become a quiet but crucial force steering the tide of history.
