Super Rich: Starting the game by going back ten years to buy Bitcoin

All the fixing clips on the bracket pop open simultaneously. The chest armor separates from the front and back. The joint locks of the limb modules are released.

Li Yichen turned around and pressed his back against hers.

The nerve interface on the spine automatically aligns. The flexible electrode conforms to the skin. A microcurrent is inserted. A tingling sensation instantly spreads throughout the body.

The breastplate closes. Click.

The pauldrons fell. Click.

Thigh. Calf. Upper arm. Forearm. Palm.

Each module was in place with a crisp mechanical engagement. A slight hum came from the hydraulic lines.

The helmet popped off from the top of the stand. He caught it with both hands and fastened it.

The HUD lights up. Data streams cascade across the screen. System self-test passes. Hydrogen fuel cell is in full-power standby mode.

Li Yichen stood in the bedroom. The silver-gray metal casing gleamed.

Ling'er's chibi-style figure was crouching in the corner of the HUD. Her little face was taut.

"Brother, coordinates locked. Southeast, distance 168 kilometers. Target ship speed 12 knots, currently moving."

She paused for half a second.

"Once takeoff, radar in the East China Sea is very likely to detect the signal again. The risk of exposure is extremely high."

Li Yichen did not hesitate.

"Even if it's exposed, it doesn't matter." He strode out. "In my heart, her life is more important than any secret."

I pushed open the French doors to the balcony. A sea breeze rushed in. The afternoon sun shone on the metal shoulder armor.

He walked to the edge of the balcony. His feet landed on the stone railing.

The nozzle under the foot ignites. The heat rushes to the ground. The marble tiles on the balcony crack instantly.

He was launched into the air. Ten meters. Fifty meters. One hundred meters. Soaring straight into the clouds.

Mach 4. Extreme speed cruise.

Fly at a height of 30 meters above the sea surface to minimize the probability of being detected by long-range radar.

Salt grains and water droplets were torn apart by the airflow, crackling as they struck the helmet visor. The sea surface beneath his feet became a blurry blue-white afterimage.

The distance numbers on the HUD are decreasing rapidly.

150km. 120km. 90km. 60km.

168 kilometers. Two minutes and forty-seven seconds.

The target has been identified.

The HUD automatically zooms in on the image. A rusty, 10,000-ton ocean-going freighter. It is not flying any flags.

Ling'er initiates the scan.

"Twenty-two heat source signals were detected on the ship. Sixteen of them were concentrated on the deck and in the wheelhouse. Three were in the lower deck, section C. Ji Yanran's watch signal was also there. The other three were distributed in the hatch passageways, carrying metal objects, and were identified as armed guards."

Li Yichen did not slow down.

He chose the most violent and direct method of attack: a vertical dive from directly above the ship.

Full power.

The armor sliced ​​through the sky. Sonic boom cones exploded behind him.

Inside the cargo ship's bridge.

The mercenary leader, codenamed "Shadow," stared at the radar screen. A red dot was approaching at an incredible speed.

"Missile! Evade!" he roared into the walkie-talkie, his hands gripping the control panel tightly.

That's too late.

On deck, the blazing sun made the rusted steel plates scorch. Several armed sentries leaned against the ship's railing, smoking listlessly. One of them, an old soldier named Marcus, had spent over a decade in the Middle East and had seen it all. Just as he put his cigarette in his mouth, a sharp shriek suddenly came from above—as if something had torn a hole in the sky.

He raised his head.

A silver-gray humanoid metallic figure was crashing down from the horizon. Its speed was incredible; even the sunlight was sliced ​​in two by the form.

The cigarette fell from his mouth. He didn't take it.

My brain completely shut down at that moment.

When the enormous roar reached the ship, Marcus felt as if he had been pushed by the sound waves, his eardrums buzzed, and the world instantly went silent.

The silver-gray humanoid metallic body smashed through the cargo ship's deck steel plate at supersonic speed.

boom.

The entire ship trembled violently, as if struck by an invisible giant fist. A hole two meters in diameter blasted open in the deck. Steel plates were torn and rolled up, and fragments flew everywhere, as if someone had ripped a hole in the ship from the inside.

Marcus was thrown to the ground by the shockwave, his head hitting the ship's railing, and his vision went black for a moment. He struggled to his feet, his hand reaching for the pistol at his waist, but what he saw froze him in mid-air.

From the large hole, a silver-gray humanoid figure stood up.

The mercenaries instinctively raised their guns and fired.

Bullets struck the silver-gray armor. Clang, clang. Sparks flew.

Not a single bullet could penetrate the carbon fiber-titanium alloy composite armor. Not even a white mark was left.

Li Yichen stood on the deck. His feet crushed the steel beams below. He stood up straight and glanced around.

The nearest mercenary was three meters away from him, holding an HK416 assault rifle. His hands were trembling.

This was beyond his comprehension. A flying, invulnerable metal man who fell from the sky.

This mercenary was named Victor. A former member of the French Foreign Legion, he served for eight years and had over a hundred combat records. He had personally killed seventeen people and shot three at close range. He thought he was fearless.

But now his legs were trembling. Not from fear—it was something deeper. It was the instinctive fear etched into our genes when faced with something beyond our comprehension. He felt like he was watching a movie. A movie that shouldn't exist in reality.

His finger, which was on the trigger, stiffened.

It wasn't because the bullets couldn't penetrate the other person—though that was terrifying enough—but because when the metal man turned around to look at him, he saw a pair of eyes under the mask.

Those eyes were calm.

Even with a hint of weariness.

Like his bullets, they are not worth paying attention to.

Li Yichen stretched out his right hand. The hydraulic system was operating at full power.

Five metal fingers gripped the barrel directly. With force.

The steel barrel was crushed flat, the shrill sound of the twisting metal sending chills down Victor's spine. He released the gun, took two steps back, his legs buckled, and he collapsed onto the deck.

Then Li Yichen swept his arm horizontally.

The rifle butt slammed into Victor's chest, sending him flying more than ten meters before he crashed heavily against the ship's side. The sound of bones shattering was clearly audible. He immediately lost consciousness.

Chaos erupted on the deck instantly.

A dozen mercenaries poured out from all directions. AKs, M4s, and even RPG rocket launchers.

Bullets rained down like a storm.

A dense array of ballistic warning lines appeared on the HUD. None of them could cause any real damage to the armor.

But that doesn’t mean those who fired the shots weren’t affected.

Someone was shouting, "Shoot! Shoot!" The voice was trembling.

Someone screamed, "What the hell is that? What the hell is that?!"

Some people simply closed their eyes, held the trigger tightly, and emptied the entire magazine until the firing pin made a clicking sound of a dry shot, only then did they come to their senses and realize that their pants were wet.

A young mercenary leaned against the back of the shipping container, panting heavily. He saw the metal figure's face through his scope—no, not a face, but a mask. A deep black V-shaped mask, like the mask of death. His finger trembled outside the trigger guard, unable to slip it in. He heard his comrades screaming, heard the dull thud of metal striking flesh. He clutched his head.

Li Yichen transformed into an unstoppable steel machine, sweeping through the crowd.

A punch landed squarely on the enemy's chest on his left. The cracking sound of breaking ribs mingled with a scream. The man flew through the air, knocking over an oil drum and spilling diesel fuel everywhere.

With a kick, the enemy on the right, along with the iron barrel behind him, flew ten meters away. The steel plate was dented. The man landed motionless, blood gushing from his mouth and nose.

A mercenary picks up an RPG.

"Shadow" roared into the walkie-talkie from the cockpit: "Fire! Whatever it is! Sink it!"

The man holding the RPG was Patton. A handsome American. A former Marine Corps gunnery sergeant. He carried the launcher, the crosshairs in his scope aimed at the silver-gray chest. His finger was on the trigger, but he didn't pull it.

Because he saw the metal man turn his head.

Thirty meters apart, separated by smoke and fire, by the dark lenses of the mask, he felt rooted to the spot by those eyes. It wasn't the gaze of a human being. Not fear, not anger, not murderous intent—but an absolute, unquestionable sense of control. Like pointing a knife at a god standing before you, and the god simply watching you, waiting for you to realize how ridiculous you are.

Patton pulled the trigger.

It's not because of bravery.

It was because he felt that if he didn't pull the trigger soon, even the courage to do so would completely disappear in the next second.

The rocket was ejected from the barrel. Its exhaust trail left a trail of orange-red light in the air.

The HUD is flashing a red warning.

Li Yichen turned to the side.

The rocket grazed his waist and struck the shipping container behind him.

An explosion. Flames shot into the sky. The shockwave propelled him forward two steps.

The steel plate was blasted into a large crater, and the metal sheeting of the container was torn to shreds like paper. Burning fragments flew everywhere, and the temperature in the air suddenly rose.

The smoke cleared. The armor was intact.

The silver-gray figure emerged from the firelight. A small piece of burning canvas still clung to his shoulder armor. He casually brushed it off, the movement as casual as brushing a speck of ash off his clothes.

Patton's legs buckled, and he knelt on the deck. The launcher slipped from his hands and crashed to the ground with a thud. He stared at the approaching metal figure, his lips trembling, uttering a mumbled, incoherent sentence.

"This can't be real...this can't be real..."

He completely lost the will to resist.

It wasn't because of the pain. It was because his entire worldview had been shattered by a single punch in those few seconds.

Thirty seconds. The entire deck level was cleared.

All sixteen armed men were rendered incapacitated. No one died, but each of them had at least two broken bones. They lay on the ground groaning in pain.

Someone was holding their severed arm and crying like a child.

Someone huddled by the ship's railing, repeatedly muttering, "I shouldn't have taken this job."

Some people had already fainted, but their convulsions continued.

Marcus leaned against an overturned wooden crate, at least three of his ribs broken. He watched the silver-gray figure turn and walk toward the hole in the deck, only one thought in his mind: Isn't this something you only see in movies?

Iron Man? Isn't that just a Marvel movie made to rake in box office revenue? Why would he appear in real life? And why on this particular day, on this wrecked ship, did he have to see it with his own eyes?

He closed his eyes, hoping it was just a nightmare.

Open your eyes again. The metal man is still there.

Li Yichen did not linger.

He jumped directly down through the hole in the deck that had just been smashed.

Passing through two decks, we landed in the corridor of the lower cabin.

The metal soles of the boots crushed the rusted floor grilles.

The hatch in area C ahead is tightly closed.

Three guards stood by the door, and upon hearing the commotion, they raised their guns and aimed them into the corridor.

Li Yichen didn't give them a chance to fire.

A short burst of steam shot from the nozzles beneath his feet, propelling him forward. His silver-gray figure left a trail of afterimages in the narrow corridor. The leader of the three men's pupils constricted, and before he could utter a single syllable, a metal hand gripped his neck.

He grabbed one man by the neck with his left hand and another by the shoulder with his right. He lifted him up and slammed him against the bulkheads on either side. Both men were instantly knocked unconscious. Two human-shaped dents were left in the metal bulkheads.

The third one reacted the fastest and pulled the trigger.

The bullet struck Li Yichen's breastplate, ricocheted, and embedded itself in the ceiling. The ricocheting bullets bounced back and forth in the corridor, emitting a sharp hiss.

Li Yichen punched him in the abdomen.

The person was thrown five meters, crashing through a thin iron door. The door, frame and all, flew out, the sound of it hitting the ground exploding in the enclosed space, like someone had detonated a bomb.

Silence returned to the corridor. Only the low hum of the hydraulic system and the unconscious groans of a comatose guard could be heard.

C-section cabin door.

Li Yichen gripped the door crack with both hands. The hydraulic system was operating at full power.

The alloy steel hatch was ripped open and crumpled into a pile of scrap metal. The shrill scream of twisting metal was particularly jarring in the confined space, like the roar of some prehistoric behemoth.

In the cabin.

Ji Yanran leaned against the pipe. Her wrists were tied.

Hearing the sound of the door being torn apart, she looked up.

She saw a silver-gray metallic humanoid standing in the doorway.

The mask was a deep black with a V-shaped cut. He had broad shoulders and a wide build. Sparks and embers from the recent battle still lingered around him. The light from the corridor streamed in from behind, outlining his silhouette as a gigantic figure. Like a metal war god stepping out of ancient mythology.

Ji Yanran was stunned. Her mind went blank for a full three seconds.

Then she recognized the silhouette.

The silhouette she had touched like a "figure" in her boss's bedroom a few days earlier.

The smooth shoulder line and the heavy metallic texture are perfectly consistent.

A thought exploded in her mind: It's actually true.

The helmet visor rises.

Li Yichen's face was revealed. Stubble. A familiar face. There was a faint red mark on his forehead, probably from the shockwave just now.

"Yanran".

He crouched down. His metal fingers moved with extreme lightness and slowness, untying the ropes from her wrists. His movements were careful, as if he were afraid of crushing something precious. He was completely different from the person who had just torn apart steel plates and crushed gun barrels on the deck.

"I'm late."

Ji Yanran stared at him. Stared at the helmet above him. Stared at the silver-gray armor that covered his entire body.

His lips moved several times. In the end, he only managed to squeeze out one sentence.

"So...that really wasn't a model?"

Li Yichen laughed.

He helped her up from the ground. Ji Yanran's legs were a little weak, and she couldn't stand steadily. She had been locked in that cramped cabin for too long, and her hands and feet were numb. He put one arm around her waist and pressed his watch with the other.

Ling'er popped out.

"Ling'er, are there any other targets on the ship?"

"That's all, they're all subdued. Brother, you're amazing."

When will the coast guard arrive?

"Two hours and seventeen minutes to go."

"Tell the coast guard that I've rescued the person. Let them clean up the mess."

Ling'er saluted. "Understood!"

Li Yichen led Ji Yanran onto the deck.

The sunlight fell on her face again. She squinted and took a deep breath. The salty smell of the sea mingled with the stench of gunpowder and diesel, but she felt it was the best-smelling air she had ever experienced.

Then she saw the view on the deck.

Mercenaries lay writhing on the ground, groaning in agony. Crushed gun barrels twisted like wrung-out towels. Deep footprints marked the dented steel plates. Molten iron still clung to the edges of the large holes in the shipping containers. The air reeked of gunpowder and diesel fuel, mingled with the stench of blood.

She turned to look at the man beside her.

The silver-gray armor was undamaged, only bearing some scratches and charring. His V-shaped mask was up, revealing his face. Stubble. Beads of sweat. A slight upturn at the corners of his mouth. He looked nothing like someone who had just smashed through a ship.

The ground was littered with groaning mercenaries. The steel plates were riddled with bullet holes and dents. The air was thick with the smell of gunpowder and diesel fuel.

The sea breeze blows.

Ji Yanran leaned against Li Yichen's armor. The metal was cold, but she felt incredibly safe.

She looked up at him.

The afternoon sun shone on the armor, its silvery-gray sheen both cold and gentle.

"Boss."

"Um?"

"Two billion...that's really cheap."

Li Yichen looked down at her.

On the ravaged deck of this rusty cargo ship in international waters, under the sunlight, the two men laughed simultaneously.