The day my girlfriend ran off with a rich heir, she paid me a hundred yuan to buy out our three years together.
“Chen Mo, you pathetic simp. You’re only good for getting on your knees and paying me back two million.”
The wind on the rooftop was bitterly cold. I was ready to end it all.
Then a tiny voice burst into tears inside my head: [Daddy! Don’t die!]
The Future Wealth System had bound itself to me, at the cost of my daughter’s slowly fading future.
The first ability I gained was the power to see through anyone’s financial holdings.
And so I saw
Young Master Zhang, driving a Ferrari with my ex-girlfriend in his arms, had a net worth of minus 33 million.
The financial tycoon who ruled the stock market had just 37 minutes until his account was liquidated.
And the doctor treating my critically ill mother had a secret account holding an eight-figure “gift.”
From then on, I found lost national treasures at street stalls and made fortunes by devouring the wealth of market giants.
They laughed at me for dreaming. I laughed at them for being blind.
They didn’t know that a daughter from the future lived inside my head.
Every penny I earned on my way to becoming the richest man in the world bought another second of her real, living existence.
When I reached the summit of global wealth, a cold final message descended from the stars:
[Observation complete. Test subject ‘Chen Mo,’ final choice,]
[A. Erase ‘Chen Yin.’ Claim the trillion-unit legacy of civilization for yourself and become a new god.]
[B. Fight the supreme ‘Observers’ for your daughter and your insignificant civilization.]
I held my daughter, finally warm in my arms, and gazed into deep space.
“I choose C.”
“I’ll use the trillion-unit legacy you covet to buy a bullet.”
“Then I’ll fire.”
