2026-04-23 03:21:36Ethan POV
Rrip. The sound was louder than a gunshot in the quiet chemistry lab. "Stop! Bryan, stop!" I lunged forward, but two guys from the football team grabbed my arms. They held me tight, their fingers digging into my skin like iron claws. I could only watch. Bryan Montgomery stood over the lab’s waste sink, a smirk on his face. In his hands was my research binder—three years of data, thousands of hours of sweat, and my only hope of paying for my mother’s heart surgery. He gripped the thick stack of papers and tore them again. Rrip. "You know, Ethan," Bryan said, his voice calm and cruel. "I actually did you a favor. This wastewater treatment garbage was never going to work. You’re a charity case, not a scientist." He tossed the shredded remains of my life into the sink. Then, he reached for a bottle of concentrated sulfuric acid. "No! Please!" I kicked and struggled, but the guys just laughed. Bryan poured the acid. I watched as the liquid hissed and smoked, eating away at my formulas, my graphs, and my future. In seconds, the paper turned into a black, bubbling mush. "There," Bryan said, wiping his hands on his expensive jeans. "Now you won't have to stay up all night working. You can spend more time thinking about how a loser like you ever thought he could keep a girl like Chloe." I looked toward the door. Chloe was standing there, holding a designer bag I’d never seen before. She didn't look angry. She didn't look sad. She just looked bored. "Chloe, help me," I gasped. "Tell them to stop." She walked over, but she didn't look at me. She looked at Bryan and tucked her arm into his. "Let’s go, Bryan. The smell of this place is getting on my clothes. And Ethan?" She finally glanced at me, her eyes colder than the acid in the sink. "Stop calling me. I can’t be with someone who has to count pennies just to buy a burger. We’re over." The guys let go of me. I fell to the floor, my knees hitting the hard tile. "Oh, I almost forgot," Bryan said. He reached into his leather wallet and pulled out a crisp $100 bill. He flicked it at me. The bill fluttered through the air and landed in a puddle of distilled water right in front of my face. "That’s for your 'hard work,'" Bryan laughed. "Buy yourself a nice meal. It’s probably more money than your whole family makes in a month." They walked out, their laughter echoing off the walls. I sat there on the cold floor, staring at the black sludge in the sink. My chest felt like it was being crushed. My mother... the surgery... the patent... it was all gone. My phone buzzed. It was a text from the University Dean. “Student Ethan Vance, your scholarship is officially revoked due to a report of lab safety violations filed by the Montgomery Foundation. Please vacate your room by 6 PM today.” He didn't just dump me. He didn't just ruin my research. He was erasing me. I put my head in my hands and let out a choked sob. I had played by the rules. I had worked three jobs. I had studied until my eyes bled. And for what? To be stepped on like an ant by someone who was born with a silver spoon? "I hate this," I whispered into the empty lab. "I hate this world." Ding. A sound like a sharp bell rang inside my skull. The world didn't just go quiet—it stopped. A drop of water falling from the faucet froze in mid-air. [System Loading...10%... 50%... 100%] [Absolute Despair Detected. Soul Frequency Matching...] [Binding Sovereign Scholar System to Host: Ethan Vance.] A blue screen, glowing and sharp, appeared right in front of my eyes. [Welcome, Ethan Vance. You have been a victim for 21 years. That ends now.] [Initial Gift Unlocked: The First Trillion.] [Reward: $10,000,000.00 has been deposited into your personal account.] [Reward: Brain Overclocking Unlocked. Your IQ is now beyond human measurement.] My phone vibrated again. I pulled it out with shaking hands. It wasn't a text. It was a notification from my banking app. “Account Balance: $10,000,008.50.” I stared at the numbers. The eight dollars was for my dinner. The ten million... that was enough to buy the lab. That was enough to buy the whole school. [New Mission: The First Slap.] [Objective: Bryan Montgomery is currently at the Blue Velvet club celebrating your downfall. Go there and show him what real wealth looks like.] [Time Limit: 2 Hours.] [Reward: Master Combat Skills & The Ghost Luxury Car.] I looked at the $100 bill on the wet floor. I picked it up and stood up. My body didn't feel heavy anymore. My mind felt like a supercomputer. I could see the molecular structure of the acid in the sink. I could calculate the exact amount of force needed to break a human jaw. I tucked the $100 bill into my pocket. "Bryan," I said, my voice cold and steady. "I’m coming for my change."
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The City King
Patriarch Long stood completely upright on the cold marble floor. He rolled his broad shoulders, taking a deep, chest-expanding breath that didn't hold even a hint of the wet, rattling cough that had plagued him for the last six months. He looked down at his hands, flexing his fingers into tight, powerful fists, before stomping his heel lightly against the ground. "It's gone," the Patriarch whispered, his voice vibrating with a deep, healthy resonance. "The ice... the weight on my chest. It's completely gone." "It was him, Father," Long Tian stammered, his voice thick and slurred from his swollen left cheek. He stumbled forward a step, pointing a trembling finger at me. "Ethan Vance. He... he pulled that black needle right out of your spine. The doctors said you were minutes away from total paralysis, but he did it with just those silver pins." The Patriarch slowly turned his head. His sharp, predatory grey eyes locked onto me. For three long, suffocating seconds, the sheer press
The Spirit Needle
"A curse?" Dr. Reinhardt let out a sharp, mocking bark of laughter, though he quickly glanced at Chen to make sure the giant bodyguard wasn't raising a fist. "This is even more ridiculous than I thought! A curse? What is this, a medieval fairy tale? We are in a state-of-the-art medical wing, not some backwater village! You are talking about superstitions, you idiot!" "We have run genetic sequencing, spinal fluid panels, and three separate bone marrow biopsies," Dr. Sato added, her tone dropping its previous panic and replacing it with a cold, professional disdain. "If there were some foreign biological agent, a heavy metal, or a known 'poison,' our laboratory setup here would have flagged it within seconds. There is absolutely zero scientific basis for what you are saying. You are literally making up words." "That’s because your labs are looking for cellular anomalies, not spiritual ones," I said, not even looking back at them as I set the leather case down on the bedside table. "Yo
The Student Doctor
The private caravan of blacked-out SUVs tore through the heavy iron gates of the Long Mansion, parking in a perfect semi-circle on the pristine cobblestone driveway. The estate was massive, more like a fortified palace than a house, with armed guards patrolling the high stone walls every fifty yards. I stepped out of the back of my Ferrari, carrying the small, sterile leather case containing the Spirit-Severing Ginseng. "Mr. Vance, this way, please," Chen whispered, practically jogging to keep up with my steady, relaxed pace. The lead bodyguard was completely sweating through his suit now, his eyes darting toward the grand double doors of the mansion. "The doctors... they've been in there all morning. Things are getting worse. They're shouting so loud you can hear them from the gardens." We pushed through the heavy gold-leaf doors into the main foyer, and the sound of frantic arguing immediately echoed down the marble hallway. The grand salon had been turned into a makeshift high-
The Secret Illness
The gallery cleared out in under two minutes. Nobody wanted to be caught in the crossfire of whatever was about to go down. The other wealthy buyers practically scrambled over each other to get out the back exit, their polished dress shoes squeaking in a mad rush on the marble floor. Even the security guards at the doors stood back, keeping their eyes glued to the ceiling as if they were suddenly very interested in the architecture. Julian, my broker, was still hiding behind my leather chair, his hands clamped over his ears. "Mr. Vance... is it over?" Julian whispered, slowly peeking over the armrest. His bowtie was completely crooked, and sweat had ruined his expensive gelled hair. "Are we... are we not getting shot?" "Get up, Julian," I said, not looking at him as I smoothed down the front of my jacket. "Go get the package." At the front of the room, the auctioneer was already running toward the steel vault in the back, his hands shaking so hard he almost dropped his electro
The Black Dragon Card
"We're dead. We're actually dead," Julian whimpered, his face pressed against his knees as he sat slumped in the leather chair beside me. "Mr. Vance, you don't understand. Chen has killed people for far less than this. The police won't even investigate if the Long family is involved. They own the docks, they own the precinct..." "Calm down, Julian," I said, standing up from the leather armchair. I picked up my jacket and slipped it back on, my movements slow and deliberate. "They don't own me." At the front of the gallery, the auctioneer was frantically trying to finalize the transaction on his digital ledger, his fingers shaking so hard he kept mistyping the routing codes. The two white-gloved assistants had already retreated backstage, leaving the secure glass display case containing the Spirit-Severing Ginseng sitting alone on the marble podium. Before I could even take a step toward the stage, the heavy oak doors at the back of the room burst open. A tall, broad-shouldered man
The Price of Arrogance
The auctioneer cleared his throat, his eyes darting toward the front row where Long Tian was still twirling his diamond pinky ring. "Right. Well. The opening bid is ten million dollars. Do we have any—" "Fifty million," Long Tian cut him off, throwing his bidding paddle onto the mahogany table with a loud clatter. He didn't even look back at the crowd. "Put it down for fifty. Let's see if anyone else in this room actually has the balls to raise their hand." A heavy, suffocating silence fell over the gallery. The older bidders in the second and third rows immediately lowered their heads, some of them putting their digital tablets face down on their laps. Nobody wanted to even look like they were considering a counter-bid. Crossing the Long family over a plant wasn't just bad business; in this city, it was a quick way to have your shipping licenses revoked or your warehouse catch fire in the middle of the night. The auctioneer looked around the quiet room, a nervous sweat breaking
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