While others inherited hundreds of millions of dollars, I inherited a haunted scrapyard.
I thought it was the beginning of the collapse of heaven, but the [All Things Recycling System] arrived!
Who would have thought that when I was selling spicy hotpot in the underworld, hungry ghosts would compete to be a rider, and even the Lord of Hell would have to queue up to get my number?
Who dares to believe that scrap copper and iron picked up on the roadside can be turned into a high-tech magic weapon with just one hand?
Just when I was counting money and my hands were cramping, a mysterious organization came to kill me aggressively, threatening to reshape the world.
I looked at the recycling price of the system, wiped my saliva, and rushed forward with a woven bag:
"Don't move! These are all the 'recyclable garbage' that I just took a fancy to. I will worry about anyone who ruins my business!"
