After I died,
I was bound to a quick transmigration System, with the mission of playing a disposable cannon-fodder character in nine different worlds.
In the first world, a military-action story, I was the comrade who took a bullet for the hero. I turned around and opened a security company.
In the second, a cultivation story, I was an apprentice alchemist. I published The Eighteen Principles of Scientific Alchemy.
In the ninth world, the System finally came clean: “Actually, every world is a script written by higher-dimensional beings.”
Lin Mo looked at the energy he'd gathered from all nine worlds and smiled. “Now it's my turn to write the ending.”
