Bang. Bang. Bang.
“Jiang Chuan, I know you’re in there! Open up and pay me back!”
“Jiang Chuan, please, I’m begging you—I really need the money right now. Just give it back to me…”
The security door rattled violently under the pounding, and outside, a voice wavered between fury and desperation, echoing through the dimly lit rental room.
Jiang Chuan stared at his phone, scrolling through the flood of text messages his good friend Wang Hao had sent over the past weeks.
[Jiang Chuan, it’s been a whole month. When are you actually going to pay me back?]
[Jiang Chuan! Why aren’t you answering my calls? When can I get my money back?!]
He looked up at the door, still shuddering from the blows, and let out a helpless sigh.
After a long while, the banging finally stopped. Wang Hao seemed to have left.
Jiang Chuan lowered his head, sighing again and again, his clenched fist slowly relaxing.
Ding.
Another text alert lit up his phone—this time from a credit reporting platform.
[Due to multiple overdue payments, our system has automatically classified you as a dishonest debtor…]
Great. Now his credit was ruined too.
But before he could even catch his breath, a shrill ringtone cut through the silence. The name “Professor Wang” flashed on the screen, making him flinch as he instinctively answered.
“Hello? Professor Wang…” Jiang Chuan forced a weak smile.
On the other end, Professor Wang’s voice thundered: “Jiang Chuan! Are you in debt? Debt collectors came all the way to the school! Do you have any idea how serious this is? The administration is planning to discipline you—”
Before the tirade could finish, Jiang Chuan hung up.
Damn it!
“How the hell was the other me in this parallel world such an idiot? Getting scammed this badly by some con artist—honestly, give me a break.” Jiang Chuan stared at the familiar face in the mirror, shaking his head like a disappointed parent.
A month ago, his parallel-world self had stumbled across some “financial guru” online. The guy promised that if you just followed his stock tips, futures trades, and forex deals, you’d be driving a Porsche in a year, living in a mansion in two, owning a penthouse in Tomson Riviera in three, and living like royalty in four.
Normally, anyone with half a brain would know that was a scam. If making money were that easy, there wouldn’t be poor people—or outrageously rich ones, for that matter.
At first, the parallel-world version of him hadn’t bought it either. It sounded way too ridiculous.
But this “guru” was a smooth talker, and he had tricks up his sleeve. First, he recommended a few stocks to the parallel-world Jiang Chuan—and the very next day, they all surged. Two of them even hit the daily limit!
Then, he told him to sell those and buy into others.
In the beginning, the parallel-world Jiang Chuan held back. But watching those stocks soar over and over again made his fingers itch. Eventually, he caved and started following the guru’s advice. After a few small wins, the guru upped the ante: “Stocks are small change, my friend. Futures—that’s where the real money is.”
So the parallel-world Jiang Chuan bought in deeper, trusting the guru more and more, pouring in ever larger sums—until he started eating losses. Even then, the guru kept pushing: “Go borrow 300,000 yuan. I’ll get you back to break-even, I swear!”
And so, blinded by greed and panic, the parallel-world self scraped together every penny he could. He borrowed 100,000 from his best friend Wang Hao, another 100,000—his parents’ retirement savings—from his mom and dad, and maxed out a bunch of online loans. Finally, with 300,000 in hand, he wired it all to the guru in one go.
He’d dreamed that in a year, that money would multiply into a fortune. Instead, the guru read his messages and never replied.
And now? This was the aftermath. Wang Hao, who’d lent him 100,000, was at his door demanding repayment. The online loans had been overdue for ages. Debt collectors had come knocking wave after wave, nonstop—and they’d even tracked him down at school.
No wonder Professor Wang had been so furious on the phone.
Ding.
Just then, the darkened phone screen flickered back to life. A WeChat notification popped up.
Jiang Chuan picked it up and froze.
[Mom: Son, if you got scammed, you got scammed. It’s no big deal. We can always earn more money. Just don’t do anything reckless.]
[Transfer: 50 yuan.]
[Mom: I made 50 yuan tonight from food running at the restaurant. Take it for now—don’t be hard on yourself, eat something decent. Don’t worry about me, I’ve got my own retirement covered. Just try not to overthink things.]
Reading that message, Jiang Chuan felt his heart clench.
An image naturally surfaced in his mind: an aging middle-aged woman in a server’s uniform, weaving through a noisy restaurant, balancing plates while dodging flailing drunks and screaming kids.
Even though this was a parallel world, the people closest to him were exactly the same.
He’d always hated seeing this kind of thing. His chest ached, his nose stung, and his eyes grew hot with unshed tears.
If none of this had happened—if the parallel-world Jiang Chuan hadn’t met that “guru”—his parents would still have their 200,000 yuan in savings. They wouldn’t be living like this. They’d have a modest but comfortable life—at least meat on the table every day. Not this: running food all night at some diner, earning 50 yuan, and sending every cent to their son, terrified something might happen to him.
And the worst part? His mom had slaved away an entire evening for just 50 yuan…
Meanwhile, those scammers—they just opened their mouths, rattled off a few scripted lines, and in a matter of days, swindled away a lifetime of savings from ordinary people. How bitterly ironic.
“Damn it—those scammers deserve to rot in hell! Not just dying without heirs—they ought to be put through every single one of the Ten Tortures of the Qing Dynasty!”
Jiang Chuan spat through gritted teeth.
But his anger deflated almost as quickly.
No matter how he looked at it, the parallel-world version of him was gone now—and he, Jiang Chuan, had taken over his body. That meant every mess the other him had made was now his mess to clean up.
And that money? That was his debt to repay now.
But how? He didn’t have a cent to his name. Paying it back felt impossible.
Ding!
Suddenly, a faint, ethereal electronic tone rang in his ears.
Huh?
Before he could react, the voice grew clearer, sharper.
[Congratulations, Host. You have successfully bound to the Military Industry Choice System.]
A system?
Jiang Chuan froze—then a wave of excitement surged through him.
Having read countless web novels in his past life, he knew exactly what a system was. This was the golden ticket—the thing that would propel a host to the top of the world, turning them into a pinnacle of human achievement!
And more importantly—with a system, he could finally pay off those debts!
First things first, though—he needed to understand how it worked.
“System, tell me what you do.”
System: [This is the Military Industry Choice System. The system will periodically issue choice-based missions. The Host must make a selection based on the mission parameters, carry out the corresponding actions, and upon completion, will receive a mission reward.]
“Pretty straightforward. And is there any limit to what kind of rewards I can get?” Jiang Chuan asked.
System: [This is the Military Industry Choice System. All rewards are related to the military industry.]
“Got it. So basically, I can become a military industry big shot thanks to you?” Jiang Chuan’s excitement grew as he started dreaming about the future.
After all, he was a guy with a system now—of course he had to start planning his next moves.
System: [Host, you have an initial gift pack. Would you like to open it now?]
A beginner’s gift pack too?
Without a second’s hesitation: “Open it. Open it now!”
System: [Congratulations, Host. You have received: Desert Eagle pistol ×1, and a permanently loyal bodyguard ×1.]
Jiang Chuan shot to his feet, the system’s voice still echoing in his head.
A Desert Eagle pistol…
Whoa. Starting off with a gun right out of the gate—definitely worthy of a military industry system.
Then, a translucent interface materialized before him. In the upper right corner, it read: System Space.
Inside the space were two small slots. One displayed the icon of a handgun; the other, the silhouette of a person.
He reached out tentatively and tapped the handgun icon.
The next second, a heavy weight settled into his palm.
He looked down. In his hand was a gleaming, brand-new silver Desert Eagle!
The grooves, the grip, the feel of every single component—all of it told him one thing: this was a real Desert Eagle pistol!
His pupils dilated. His body trembled—and on pure reflex, he tossed the gun onto the sofa.
