My name is Li Ang. I woke up one day and found myself in the year 30K AD.
How should I put this era? Humanity used to be powerful. Then they fought a war that reduced the galaxy to ruins. After that, through sheer stubbornness, they managed to fill the galaxy with people all over again.
But civilization never came back.
All that returned was a complete mess. Control three planets and you can call yourself an empire; own one busted space station and you can call yourself a kingdom. And the history is even more absurd: ancient rulers have all been stitched together into one person, children's cartoons are treated as sacred texts on psychology, toothpaste ads have become public health guidelines, and an old-fashioned rifle, thanks to a mistranslation in the records, is believed to be an ancient weapon capable of destroying a star in one shot.
And I'm the only one who knows the truth.
As a transmigrator, I ought to have some kind of advantage.
My job is simple: trade in holy relics. I dig an expired tube of toothpaste from the garbage, two thousand years old, and sell it to them as a sacred heirloom. I take an old reproduction rifle, rough it up a little, and sell it to the military church as a divine weapon. I also pick up local specialties that the people here don't think much of and sell them for a fortune in another star sector.
They want faith. I want fuel.
It's business. Nothing to be ashamed of.
