Reborn in 1950: Shorting the Federal Reserve at the Start

The cold wind from the Hudson River, carrying the salty smell of the sea, felt like an icy knife scraping against my face.

Shen Jinghong suddenly opened her eyes, her lungs contracting violently like bellows as she greedily inhaled deeply.

What came into view was neither that leaky, cheap rental room, nor that musty hospital bed, nor those vampire relatives who were still fighting over his inheritance as he lay dying.

Before him lay a vast expanse of water, a huge shadow looming over him.

He subconsciously raised his head.

A colossal bronze figure stood atop the land, its right hand holding aloft a torch, solemnly gazing upon this land known as the "New World."

statue of Liberty.

"I'm not dead?"

Shen Jinghong subconsciously raised her hand, feeling a rough texture on her fingertips, as she tightly gripped a newspaper.

The edges of the newspaper were soaked with sweat, and the ink smelled somewhat pungent.

He looked down, and his pupils instantly contracted to the size of pinpoints.

The New York Times.

Date: January 1950, 9.

The front page featured a picture of MacArthur after the Incheon landing, looking arrogant with his signature corncob pipe dangling from his mouth and his eyes filled with a haughty look as if he wanted to devour all of Asia.

"1950..."

Shen Jinghong's voice was hoarse, as if it had been sanded on sandpaper. Then, a suppressed tremor burst forth from this deep voice.

"I'm back... I'm really back!"

Memories flooded my mind like a tidal wave.

In his past life, he was a world-renowned aerodynamics genius, but also a tragic figure lamented by countless Chinese people.

At this crucial juncture, he should have boarded a ship to return home and used his talents to build that newly established communist nation. But a letter from home, like a death warrant, completely ruined his life.

In his letter, the father, Shen Dayong, threatened suicide, saying that his younger brother, Shen Yaozu, had caused a major disaster and urgently needed US dollars to save his life, forcing him to stay in the United States to work illegally and earn money.

That blindly filial version of myself actually believed it.

The results of it?

In America, he worked like a dog, washing dishes and repairing cars. By day, he was a beast of burden in the lab, and by night, he carried heavy loads at the docks. Every penny he saved was sent back home, only to be squandered on drinking, gambling, and prostitution by his good-for-nothing brother!

Until he was robbed by several black thugs on the streets of the slums and lay dying in a pool of blood, the last phone call he received was from his mother, Liu Cuihua, yelling.

"Where have you been? Why hasn't the money arrived yet! Your brother's hand is about to be chopped off! You heartless ingrate, what good are you!"

At that moment, his heart grew colder than the blood in his wound.

What made him die with the most resentment was that the notebook he carried with him, filled with core wind tunnel data, was confiscated by the FBI as if it were garbage. Decades of hard work went down the drain, and he watched helplessly as his country's fighter jets were ridiculed by the great powers for half a century because of engine heart disease!

"To hell with family ties, to hell with enduring humiliation!"

Shen Jinghong crumpled the New York Times in her hand into a ball and threw it violently at the waves at her feet.

"Since God has given me a second chance at life, I will collect all those who owe me, with interest! Those who bullied China, I will show them what it means to feel chilled to the bone!"

He took a deep breath and straightened his slightly thin suit.

He has just passed his double doctoral dissertation defense at MIT and is at the height of his career.

There was also a boat ticket in my pocket.

The "President Wilson" departed three days later.

That's the direction home.

"Three more days."

Shen Jinghong squinted, his gaze passing over the shimmering sea to the concrete jungle on the other side of the river—Manhattan.

That's the heart of the planet, flowing with the dirtiest yet most alluring blood of money. There are mountains of gold, precision machine tools that are half a century ahead of the world, and nuclear weapons blueprints hidden in top-secret laboratories.

In his past life, he left empty-handed. In this life, must he also leave in such a pathetic manner?

"How can I do justice to this rebirth without bringing back some local specialties?"

A cold smile curved Shen Jinghong's lips as she instinctively slapped the cold stone base beside her.

The moment the fingertip touched the base.

A cold, emotionless mechanical voice suddenly exploded deep within his mind.

[Ding! Strong emotional fluctuations detected in the host. The Patriot Transport System is activating...]

【Activation succeeded! 】

This system is dedicated to assisting its host in building the motherland, with only one principle: what belongs to the enemy is ours, and what belongs to us is still ours.

Shen Jinghong was stunned for a moment, then overjoyed surged into her heart.

system?

He knows this stuff very well!

"System, explain the functions, stop with the fancy stuff."

He silently recited it in his heart.

[Answer to host: This system possesses unlimited static storage space. As long as the host's limbs come into contact with an object, and that object is unclaimed, hostile, or under the host's control, it can be instantly collected.]

[Note: Living creatures cannot be collected. The size and weight that can be collected are limited by the host's mental strength.]

Can you take it just by physical contact?

Infinite space?

Shen Jinghong felt her heart pounding wildly, and her blood seemed to boil instantly, as if it had been ignited with gasoline.

This isn't a delivery system; it's a zero-dollar shopping miracle!

In 1950, without surveillance cameras, DNA tracking technology, or even a fully developed fingerprint database, this was practically a max-level player slaughtering newbies in a village!

He turned his head and stared intently at the enormous Statue of Liberty before him.

This is a matter of American prestige. If you were to bring this thing back to Beijing, place it in a square, and replace the torch with a hammer and sickle, the scene would be...

Just thinking about it is exciting!

"Give it a try!"

Shen Jinghong licked his chapped lips, took two steps back, ran up, and then, like a gecko, pressed himself against the huge bronze toe base of the goddess statue.

"Take it, you bastard!"

He roared inwardly, as if to vent all the pent-up frustration from his two lifetimes.

however--

Not moving.

The 46-meter-tall bronze statue still stands firmly in place, the sea breeze seeming to mock its overestimation of its own strength.

A cold, robotic notification sounded in my mind:

[Warning: A massive copper structure, weighing approximately 225 tons, has been detected and is deeply connected to the ground. The host's current mental strength level is LV1, making it untouchable.]

[Note: Forcibly collecting the substance may result in brain death of the host.]

Shen Jinghong felt a violent wave of dizziness wash over her, as if someone had hit her on the back of the head with a stick, and warm liquid even flowed from her nasal cavity.

He quickly let go, plopped down on the ground, panting heavily, and wiped his nose with his hand, finding it covered in blood.

"That was too hasty..."

He shook his head with a wry smile. This system is quite particular about basic principles; you can only eat what you can handle.

However, this also indirectly proves the system's authenticity.

Although he couldn't move this giant Bodhisattva, that didn't mean he couldn't do anything.

Shen Jinghong closed her eyes, her consciousness sinking into her mind, where she saw a system panel emitting a pale blue light.

In the corner of the panel, a red gift bag pattern lay quietly, shimmering with an alluring luster.

[Initial host binding detected. Would you like to claim the newbie gift pack?]

Shen Jinghong did not hesitate at all.

"Claim it! Claim it now!"

[Ding! Congratulations, host, you have obtained: Mental Strength Enhancement Liquid x1 (After consumption, mental strength will be increased to LV2, and the ability of photographic memory will be gained).]

[Congratulations, host, you have obtained: Basic Space Mastery (You can categorize and organize resources within the space using your mind).]

A small bottle of potion emitting a faint blue light appeared out of thin air in his hand, and its cool touch invigorated him.

Shen Jinghong gripped the medicine in her hand and looked up again.

This time, his gaze was no longer fixed on the statue of Goddess, but instead turned to the bustling, glittering Manhattan Island across the river.

There are underground vaults of the Federal Reserve there.

It has Lockheed's aircraft production line.

There are centrifuges at Oak Ridge.

There were also countless weapons and ammunition originally intended for slaughtering Chinese People's Volunteer Army soldiers.

Since we can't move this big thing, let's replace it with something more practical.

Those gold pieces, those machine tools, those blueprints... they all look quite attractive to me, they must really want to settle down in China, right?

Shen Jinghong slowly stood up, casually wiping the blood from the corner of his mouth with the back of his hand. Facing the sea breeze, looking at the land about to fall into panic, he revealed a sinister smile that would later send chills down the spines of countless FBI agents to their graves.

"System, stop talking nonsense. If I can't empty their national treasury with this little bit of mental energy, I'll be letting down the bottle of medicine you gave me."

He spoke softly, as if declaring war on an arrogant adversary:

"Mr. Eagle, are you ready? Your ex is coming to collect her breakup fee."