"I want to obtain one million Imperial Credits—legally."
...
October 25, 2015. This was the third day since Ren had arrived in this world.
He was a transmigrator. In the terms of the novels he had read in his past life, his soul had crossed over into this 23-year-old body that shared his name. Along with the body came a flood of memories belonging to its original owner.
It was 6:00 AM. Ren had just finished washing up. He rolled up his sleeve and pressed his left hand onto a tattoo on his right forearm, near the elbow. It was a vivid image of a book, roughly the size of a large coin. In his memory, this tattoo had appeared out of nowhere the moment he arrived in this world.
"Come forth," Ren whispered, his expression grim.
A faint, almost imperceptible glimmer of light flashed. An ancient-looking notebook with a brown cover appeared in his hand. The cover was made of an unknown material that felt like skin to the touch. Upon closer inspection, it bore subtle, mysterious patterns. In the center of the cover was a line of text in a script Ren had never seen before, yet he could miraculously understand its meaning:
The Wish Book.
Though he had spent all of yesterday examining it, holding it now still felt surreal. He flipped the book over. On the back was a string of golden symbols. Again, he instinctively understood them as numbers. Translated, they read: 75613.
He opened the cover. On the title page, a single sentence was written: Every wish made shall be fulfilled.
The message was simple enough for a child to understand, but the implications were staggering.
Yesterday, before heading to work, Ren had made a small test wish: I want to find one hundred credits.
On his way to work, while he was looking around suspiciously, he had tripped over a small stone. Right there, lying at his feet, was a hundred-credit bill. He had no idea who had dropped it.
After tucking the money into his wallet, Ren had been distracted all day. One thought echoed in his mind: if the words in that book were true, this wasn't just a "cheat code"—it was a god-level power.
Being naturally cautious, he had shown no emotion at the office. Only after returning home did he summon the book again. He noticed a change: the number on the back had dropped from 75614 to 75613.
Furthermore, a blank page now contained text:
Wish: I want to obtain one hundred credits.
Status: Fulfilled.
Cost: 1 Wish Point.
Ren had spent the entire night forcing himself to stay calm, resisting the urge to make another wish immediately. He needed to think.
Now, having barely slept, he flipped through the pages. They seemed infinite; no matter how fast he flipped, he could never reach the end.
For someone burdened with massive student loans, money was his most urgent need.
"I want to obtain one million Imperial Credits—legally," Ren said, enunciating every word clearly. To ensure the book didn't deliver the money through some dangerous or criminal means, he had specifically added the "legal" condition.
Nothing happened immediately, just like the day before. But a moment later, a new entry appeared on the second page:
Wish: I want to obtain one million Imperial Credits, legally.
Ren closed the book and willed it to disappear. It vanished back into his skin. He licked his dry lips, composed himself, and picked up his wooden waste bucket to head outside.
Ren lived in the city's slums. His home was a dilapidated wooden shack—a single room that served as a bedroom, living room, and kitchen. The houses in this area lacked private plumbing. There was a public toilet about a hundred meters away shared by nearly a thousand people. Ren preferred not to use it if he could help it.
He walked a few steps, emptied his bucket into the drainage ditch, and waited at the communal tap. After a neighbor finished gathering water, Ren rinsed his bucket.
Humans are adaptable creatures. In just three days, Ren had already grown used to the reality of getting drinking water and cleaning waste at the same location. This tap had only been installed last year to celebrate the Emperor's 35th anniversary on the throne—a "gift" to the people. Before that, they had used an old, foul-smelling well.
Breakfast today included meat. Because he had found money yesterday, he had treated himself to some seasoned beef. In his past life, he had never realized how precious the taste of meat truly was.
This body was that of an orphan. His parents had died five years ago during a Great Plague. In his memories, those days were a blur of grey—a grey sky, the grey, terrified faces of people on the street, and the pillars of grey smoke rising from the crematoriums in the north of the city that burned for an entire month.
Life was hard. Ren had known that since the first hour of his arrival.
After eating, Ren put on his "Professional Tunic"—a modern, simplified version of traditional imperial robes. It looked somewhat like a high-collared suit. It was the standard attire for government workers and office professionals.
The Great Zhao Empire had stood for over 600 years. It had survived invasions, civil wars, industrial revolutions, and the rise of capitalism. Unlike the history of Ren's previous world, this empire had remained the dominant power of the Eastern Continent, preserving its traditions and culture into the modern age.
He grabbed his shoulder bag and locked the wooden door with a simple iron padlock. It was the kind of lock that kept honest people out but wouldn't stop a thief. However, his only valuables—his phone and a bank card with 1,530 credits—were on his person. In the slums, as long as you didn't flaunt wealth, people generally left you alone.
The nearest bus stop was a ten-minute walk away. Ren walked with his head down. The alleys were piled with recycled scrap and trash, smelling of rot. The houses were packed so tightly there was barely a foot of space between them. It had rained the night before, making the ground muddy and slick.
Thin, pale children stood in doorways watching him pass. In this neighborhood, few children looked healthy.
Ren kept glancing around, wondering how his million credits would manifest. After fifteen minutes, he emerged from the maze of alleys onto a wider street. He reached the "Lucky Square" bus stop.
He checked his phone—a "Summit" brand smartphone, a budget model for the working class. Even so, the technology in this world seemed slightly more advanced than what he remembered from 2015 in his old life.
It was 7:03 AM. A few other office workers in similar tunics were waiting. Within ten minutes, the crowd would triple, which was why he always left early.
Five minutes later, an electric double-decker bus slowed down as it approached. The crowd shuffled toward the curb.
The driver hit the brakes about ten meters away.
Suddenly, the front of the bus dipped violently. A thunderous CRACK echoed through the street.
The pavement shattered. To the horror of the bystanders, the entire double-decker bus plunged into the earth as if it had stepped into a giant trap.
The fissure expanded instantly. Before Ren or the others could react, the ground beneath their feet vanished. Screams filled the air as everyone plummeted into the darkness.
People flailed their arms, trying to grab onto anything, but it was futile. They all tumbled into the pit alongside the bus.
Ren was caught completely off guard. He only had time to curl his body into a ball before a violent impact jolted through his feet. Unable to keep his balance, he slammed sideways onto the uneven ground.
Pain flared in his leg. Everything was dark, filled with dust, coughing, and screams. Ren sat there dazed for a moment before his brain kicked into gear. His experience from his past life told him this was a massive sinkhole. He had seen news reports of roads collapsing under the weight of vehicles before.
But he knew why this one had happened. It was almost certainly because of his wish.
Ren squinted through the haze. The pit was roughly the size of a basketball court and about five meters deep. The double-decker bus sat nearby, its engine dead. Passengers were crying and trying to crawl out of the windows. Fortunately, the bus didn't seem to be on fire.
He pulled out his phone. The screen was cracked, but the flashlight still worked.
In the beam of light, he saw thick dust swirling in the air. Then, he noticed something that made his blood run cold: a jagged piece of rebar was sticking out of the ground less than three inches from his right leg.
He realized then that if he hadn't instinctively curled his body during the fall, he would have been impaled.
The book certainly has a violent way of granting wishes, Ren thought grimly.
He checked himself over. Aside from some torn clothes and minor scrapes, he was unhurt. He stood up, testing his legs, and began to scan the area with his light.
The ground was a mess of rubble and soil. He spotted his shoulder bag a few feet away, half-buried. He scrambled over and dug it out. As he lifted the bag, his light caught a circular metallic glint in the dirt.
Ren knelt. He brushed away the loose soil and found an ancient-looking coin with a square hole in the center.
In his previous life, Ren had been a hobbyist collector. He used to haunt antique markets and knew enough about old coins to recognize that this wasn't an ordinary piece of junk.
He checked to make sure no one was watching, then snatched the coin and closed his fist over it. He did a quick sweep of the immediate area, but found nothing else. He pretended to clean the dust off his bag while slipping the coin into a secure pocket.
Shouts were coming from above. Sirens wailed in the distance. People were gathering at the edge of the hole, but no one dared get too close for fear of a secondary collapse.
Ren slung his bag over his shoulder. He moved toward the bus to see if he could help. Other commuters were picking themselves up; some were fine, others were lying on the ground moaning in pain.
At the bus, the doors were jammed. People were pounding on the glass from the inside. Ren picked up a heavy stone and smashed the corner of a window. With a loud CRACK, the tempered glass shattered.
The people inside helped clear the shards and began climbing out. Ren moved to the next window and repeated the process. Soon, a stream of passengers was escaping the wreckage.
The sirens grew deafeningly loud. Police and emergency services had arrived.
A voice boomed from above: "Listen down there! This is the police. We are setting up rescue equipment. Do not panic. The Fire Department is on its way. Stay calm!"
Fifteen minutes later, a firefighter was lowered down on a rope to assess the injuries. Shortly after, a rope ladder was dropped.
Under the firefighter's direction, the survivors began to climb out. Ren didn't rush. He used the remaining time to scour the dirt one last time, but he found no more treasures.
Ren climbed the ladder and reached the surface. A police officer immediately approached to ask if he was injured. When Ren confirmed he was fine, a female officer offered to register his identity. She explained that if the road collapse was found to be the fault of the city's maintenance department, he might be eligible for compensation.
Ren declined, using the excuse that he was in a rush for an urgent matter. He walked away quickly toward his home. He didn't want his name in any official records right now, especially not with that coin in his bag. Behind him, most people were staying behind, eager for a potential payout.
His clothes were ruined, and there was no way he was going to the office looking like he'd been buried alive. More importantly, he needed to identify the coin.
As he hurried home, he pulled out his phone and dialed a number.
A woman's voice answered. "Ren? What is it?"
It was Ling, his supervisor at the mid-sized gaming company where he interned.
"Sister Ling, there was an accident on my way in. A sinkhole swallowed the bus stop," Ren said. "It'll probably be on the news soon. I was just pulled out by the fire department. I'm covered in dirt and have some scrapes. I don't think I can make it in today. I need to take a leave of absence."
There was a pause on the other end as she processed the news. She asked if he was okay, and once he assured her it was just surface wounds, she granted the leave.
Ren hung up. He was currently an intern making 300 credits a week. If he passed his evaluation in six months, he'd become a permanent employee at 800 credits a week. In this world, job competition was fierce, and there were no social safety nets like the ones in his old world. Most people lived paycheck to paycheck, which is why many companies paid weekly or even daily.
Back in his shack, Ren stripped off his ruined tunic. He sighed as he saw the tears in the fabric. The original owner of this body had saved up 250 credits to buy this suit—it was the most expensive thing he owned, and he had treated it with immense care.
After a quick wash at the outdoor tap, Ren locked his door from the inside and sat at his small desk. He turned on the lamp and pulled the coin from his bag.
Under the yellow light, the coin gave off a dull, heavy luster. Ren's heart skipped a beat.
He took a soft cloth and carefully wiped away the grime. As the dirt vanished, the metal beneath revealed a rich, unmistakable golden hue.
It's gold! Ren screamed internally.
He held the coin by the edges. It was a classic "square-hole" design. The front bore four characters in an elegant, ancient script: Eternal Prosperity. On the back, there were two engraved figures—saints or deities of the Temple Faith, the most widespread religion on the continent. Even with some wear and tear, the craftsmanship was exquisite. Above the square hole on the back, a small character was inscribed: REWARD.
He found a ruler in his drawer. The coin was exactly 26mm in diameter.
Ren put the coin down and opened his phone to search the "Global Web," the empire's largest search engine. He needed to know exactly what he was holding.
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