A useless card master?
Lin Mo laughed.
On his third day after transmigrating into a world of cards, he was branded with that label. The card-spirit tester showed abnormal fluctuations and said he could not be ranked. Rich kid Chen Hao mocked him on the spot, school administrators hinted he should drop out, and the whole school waited for a laugh.
They had no idea that the tablet belonging to this “useless card master” held something capable of rewriting the world.
A month later, Chen Hao’s S-rank Flame Dragon was tied up like a dumpling with a single strand of ink.
Three months later, a “Wallbreaker Card” priced at one yuan let millions of low-income families afford advanced cards for the first time.
Six months later, the foundations of a monopoly that had lasted thirty years began to crumble.
They called him a hacker, a rule-breaker, a destroyer of the established order.
Then he took the monopoly to court and produced rubbings of Han Dynasty cards from 1,700 years ago:
“Tell me, did your family apply for this patent?”
On the day the entire internet erupted, Lin Mo returned to the classroom and carried on drawing.
Someone asked, “You’re a national hero now. Why are you still drawing?”
He drew an ant carrying a grain of rice, struggling up a slope.
“I’m drawing the people of Huaguo.”
