1: Chapter 1: The Initial Bet of One Million

Foreclosed mortgages and completely shattered personal credit—like freezing deep-sea water pouring into his nostrils—tightly gripped Shen Du's throat.

Amidst the suffocating despair, a few lines of cold, emotionless text abruptly cut into the depths of his consciousness:

[Host's social credit and will to survive have both hit bankruptcy. Detected.]

[Outer Path Godly Tycoon System captured.]

[Question: Do you choose to live your life over again?]

Any normal person would likely be shocked at this moment, wondering if this was just a deathbed hallucination.

But Shen Du did not.

There was no trace of fear for the unknown in his bloodshot eyes—only an intense loathing for the miserable circumstances of his life.

His thirty-something-year-old soul had long been wrung dry of any lingering sentimentality by the brutal beatings of the era.

"Yes."

Shen Du answered deep within his consciousness, without a fraction of a second's hesitation.

To hesitate for even a second longer would be a disrespect to this rebirth.

Buzz—

That nauseating sense of despair was instantly swallowed up.

When Shen Du regained control of his body,

the first thing to assault his nostrils was a unique stench: a mix of sour socks and braised beef noodle soup base.

He snapped his eyes open.

His vision rapidly snapped into focus.

Gone were the cold debt collection notices and the cramped, suffocating rental apartment.

Before him lay a mottled, yellowing ceiling, and a precarious ceiling fan overhead emitted a strained, "creak, creak" sound.

Beneath him was a rock-hard single bunk bed.

Shen Du sat up abruptly, his chest heaving almost imperceptibly as he took a deep breath of stale air.

He lowered his head and looked at his hands.

The knuckles were well-defined, the skin firm.

There was none of the roughness or dullness left by years of anxiety and late nights; these were clean, youthful hands belonging to a twenty-year-old.

He narrowed his eyes slightly, his gaze deep and as calm as a stagnant pool.

His gaze slowly swept over the World of Warcraft: Wrath of the Lich King poster stuck to the bed opposite his,

and the bulky Hasee laptop sitting on the desk.

His gaze finally settled on the wall, on a half-torn calendar: October 8, 2010.

Huahai University of Finance and Economics, freshman boys' dormitory.

As Shen Du leaned back against the cold iron railing, a dull vibration from beneath his pillow interrupted his thoughts.

He reached out and pulled out a Nokia 5230 with paint peeling off the edges, then pressed the unlock button.

The screen lit up to reveal an unread text message from the Industrial and Commercial Bank of China:

"[Industrial and Commercial Bank of China] Your savings card ending in 7032 received a deposit of 1,000,000.00 RMB on October 8 at 14:27. Current balance: 1,000,045.50 RMB."

Looking at the string of numbers with its six zeros, there was no wild joy or panic in Shen Du's eyes—the kind an ordinary person might feel upon suddenly striking it rich.

At the peak of his previous life, he had handled funds far exceeding tens of millions; this one million merely served to confirm the reality of his current situation.

Immediately after, a system notification appeared in his mind once more:

[Initial capital is in place. Outer Path Godly Tycoon System officially bound.]

[Main questline: Rise (Part 1) initiated: The Imposter.]

[Quest Objective: Become recognized as a 'top-tier rich kid' among the freshmen at Huahai University of Finance and Economics.]

[Quest Reward: Completion grants one chance to choose from 'Three Era Dividends'. If the quest is exceeded and causes a major sensation, the reward upgrades to a choice between 'Two Era Dividends'.]

[Warning — Failure Penalty: If your identity is exposed or the goal is not met within the time limit, the main questline will be terminated, and you will forfeit the Era Dividends. The system will reclaim all funds, and any amount already spent by the host will be forcibly converted into real bank debt.]

After reading the final sentence, the fingers holding the phone paused slightly, and Shen Du let out a faint, scoffing laugh.

Sure enough, there's no such thing as a free lunch.

This wasn't some benevolent poverty alleviation game; it was a high-stakes gamble with zero margin for error.

He was expected to use this pittance to impress those young masters and ladies who had been soaking in money since they were born.

Any overexertion or slip-up, and he would instantly become the laughingstock of the entire school, with the quest failing as a result.

And if he failed, every cent he spent would be converted into real, crushing debt.

For a regular, impoverished student in 2010, a million-yuan debt was enough to drive someone to their death.

The system was forcing him to walk a tightrope.

It was pushing him to use the most extreme, most efficient methods to parlay this limited million into a reputation worth tens or even hundreds of millions.

"Interesting."

Shen Du casually slipped the Nokia into his pocket.

He crossed his long legs and slowly scanned the somewhat crude four-person dormitory, his brain already entering a state of maximum combat readiness.

The dormitory was unusually quiet.

It was the last day of the National Day holiday.

Based on his memories, his roommate Chen Fei was likely still on the high-speed train back to campus, snoring away;

as for Xu Hao and Lin Zimo, they were probably seizing these last few hours of freedom to game at an internet cafe.

Shen Du walked to the balcony and shoved open the slightly rusted aluminum window.

The air in the Magic City in early October still held a lingering sultriness.

Not far away lay the famous South Gate parking lot of Huahai University of Finance and Economics.

Even separated by several dormitory buildings, he could faintly hear the low roar of a V8 engine as a sports car accelerated.

His gaze drifted past the campus walls, his eyes growing deeper.

He was all too aware of the kind of slaughterhouse he was currently in.

Huahai University of Finance and Economics was a twisted anomaly in the university circle of the Magic City.

In terms of academic prestige, it could barely scrape the bottom of the first-tier university cutoff;

but in terms of the students' net worth, it could absolutely crush the neighboring prestigious "Double First-Class" universities into the dirt.

The reason was simple: this was the ultimate "place of exile" for the offspring of the Magic City's local capital circles and the powerful elites from other provinces.

Those who couldn't get into top-tier institutions but still needed a respectable diploma to inherit the family business all flocked here.

Shen Du looked down at his phone screen, where the text message interface was still lit.

In the eyes of an ordinary college student in 2010, one million was a colossal sum of money, enough to make anyone lose their mind.

But in the core circles of Huahai University of Finance and Economics?

It was merely the price of a single patek philippe watch on the wrists of those people, or the cost of a few nights out at a high-end club in Lujiazui.

To play the "top-tier rich kid" in front of this group, who had been raised on cold, hard cash since they were children?

The difficulty was no different from performing a shell game in front of a professional card sharp.

If he took this million and foolishly went to buy a base-model Porsche, or decked himself out in luxury goods with big, flashy logos, he would be stripped bare by that crowd by the very next day.

A true member of the elite would never just reek of "nouveau riche" money.

It was about the air of relaxed confidence and the sheer weight of resources that came from long-term dominance.

Once he showed weakness and his background as a poor student was exposed, the system would instantly reset, and that one million would immediately transform into a life-ending, real-world debt.

Shen Du couldn't just avoid the arrogance of the newly rich; he had to feign the world-weariness of someone who had spent money his entire life.

He casually pulled a shriveled cigarette from the pack Xu Hao had left on the table.

He didn't light it, just twirled it lightly between his fingertips.

Then, with a "snap," he broke it in two and tossed it precisely into the trash can by his feet.