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

When the progress bar got stuck at 99.4%, the alarm went off.

It wasn't one of those progressively higher three-level alarms; it jumped straight to the highest level, the piercing shriek echoing back and forth in the cavity five hundred meters underground, creating double images. Thousands of cold fluorescent tubes on the dome turned red simultaneously, illuminating dozens of faces in a single color.

"The firewall is collapsing!" Smith's fingers were so blurred on the keyboard that they were barely visible. "It's not us reading it—it's it reading us! Shielding layers three and five are completely broken, and there's energy converging on one point inside the core! Mr. President, it's not too late to pull the cables, right now—"

"Shut up."

The reliable man leaned forward, his hands gripping the railing of the observation platform. He didn't glance at Smith; his eyes were fixed on the red bar on the main screen.

"continue."

"Sir, that's not a data stream! The energy density is increasing, doubling every three seconds—"

"I said continue!"

The surface of that dark gold object has changed.

The pipes inside the honeycomb holes, which had been slowly emitting iridescent light, are now lighting up one by one, as if someone is turning on lights in sequence. The lit holes connect to form lines, and the lines form a strange pattern that runs from the break to the other end of the component.

99.9%.

"bite."

A very soft, crisp sound came from behind the 40-centimeter-thick bulletproof glass, so clear it was almost unbelievable.

Then came the buzzing.

So low that it was almost inaudible, yet the entire steel frame of the underground space was shaking. The pressure gauges on the liquid nitrogen tanks swung to their lowest points, fine dust fell from the ceiling, and a researcher sat down on the floor with a thud, his glasses flying off without him even picking them up.

Smith turned his head and saw that the reliable guy was still standing behind the railing, with that slight smile still on his face.

"Run!" Smith shouted hoarsely, turning and rushing toward the side door.

He failed to escape.

A deep blue beam of light emerged from the core of the wreckage.

That thing wasn't like light. The forty-centimeter-long bulletproof glass didn't shatter or crack upon contact—it simply vanished without a trace, leaving not even a speck of dust. The steel bracket at the edge was sculpted into a smooth cut. The six data cables on the robotic arm broke off in the middle, the severed ends drooping limply, still emitting white steam.

The beam of light went straight upwards.

It penetrated three experimental platforms, the ventilation shaft, the six-meter-thick reinforced concrete roof slab poured thirty years ago, and five hundred meters of rock strata.

In the Nevada desert, a blue beam of light, more than ten meters in diameter, burst forth from the ground.

It didn't spread, it didn't deflect, it pierced straight into the sky. Sand grains were swept upwards, only to be burned to powder halfway up. A circular hole appeared in the middle of the clouds, its edges swirling outwards. Further up, a bright spot appeared on the outermost layer of the atmosphere.

Then, the light flung itself into the depths of the starry sky.

From the moment the crack was completed to the moment the beam of light disappeared, a total of nineteen seconds elapsed.

---

At the Kremlin, Putin had just raised the glass of vodka to his lips.

The Far East Fleet commander's report continued, discussing the replacement cycle for the three frigates. Jingpu listened absentmindedly, and was just about to have the windows closed a little smaller.

The office door was kicked open.

It wasn't a knock, it wasn't a push, it was a slam. The head of the special department stumbled in, his knees hitting the carpet, the folder in his hand falling apart. He scrambled and rolled to grab the top sheet of paper and held it up high.

"The Great Emperor!"

Jingpu put the cup down halfway.

"What's wrong?"

"The United States—Area 51—" The person in charge stammered, his voice cracking, "Three minutes ago, they launched a high-energy directional pulse into deep space! Our three warning satellites detected it simultaneously!"

The paper was shoved in front of Jingpu.

A spectral curve had its vertical axis scale stacked four times, but the final peak still broke through the graph frame, so the person drawing the curve had to add a section on the edge of the paper with a pencil.

"Intensity," Jingpu said.

"We multiply the combined power of all the communication transmission facilities in the country by ten thousand times..." The person in charge swallowed hard, "and it's still less than half the power of that signal. It's directional, with a beam angle of less than 0.01 degrees, pointing towards the outer edge of the Orion Arm."

The cup slipped from Jingpu's hand.

It slammed onto the floor with a "crack," the glass shattering into pieces, leaving a dark stain of vodka.

Jingpu stood up and slammed his fist on the desk. The pen on the desk jumped up, rolled to the edge, and fell off.

He stood still, his chest rising and falling three or four times.

The Far East Fleet commander fed the caller twice before hanging up.

"That file from Bureau 749," Jingpu's voice lowered, "the one I saw twenty years ago, the one about the broadcasting module."

The person in charge was stunned: "Your Majesty, that one is the highest..."

"They plugged it in." Jingpu stared at the puddle of liquor on the ground. "They really plugged the wire in."

He raised his head and squeezed out each word carefully:

"That brainless lunatic, TeKaoPu! He sold the entire planet Earth!"

---

Beijing, a traditional courtyard house.

The shadow of the locust tree shifted two feet to the east, and the water in the purple clay teapot was replenished for the third time.

Li Yichen held the cup in both hands, leaned forward, and spoke in a much more relaxed tone than when he first entered the courtyard.

"Grandpa, you've hidden this courtyard very well. It's just a bit boring."

"What, you think I, an old man, am not hospitable enough?"

"I wouldn't dare. I just think that at your age, drinking tea and playing chess every day is so boring." Li Yichen slammed his cup on the table. "If you really want to see something exciting, I'll get you a big thing that can fly in the sky in a few months."

The old man stopped what he was doing.

How big?

"It's bigger than your yard." Li Yichen thought for a moment, "It can probably... fit your entire yard."

"Nonsense."

"When did I ever blow that?"

The old man laughed, his chest heaving with laughter, and pointed a finger at him: "You little rascal—"

Footsteps could be heard outside the courtyard wall.

It wasn't the orderly marching of a sentry; it was running. Running fast, the soles of their leather shoes slipped on the blue bricks with a dull thud, as if they'd bumped into something.

Li Yichen put the cup down.

The courtyard gate was pushed open, and Chen Jianjun rushed in.

His uniform collar was unbuttoned, his temples were soaked with sweat, and he clutched a red machine tightly to his chest with both hands. He had even forgotten to stand at attention, and spoke from five steps away:

"Sir! Bureau 749's situation is extremely urgent, a top-level report!"

The pronunciation of the word "报" was off.

The wrinkles on the old man's face immediately smoothed out.

He reached out and took the phone.

Li Yichen remained seated, his eyes catching a glimpse of the old man's hand. His knuckles were large, and there were age spots on the back of his hand; he answered the phone steadily.

In the fourth second, the tendons in that hand began to push upwards.

Seven seconds later, the area between his thumb and forefinger turned bluish.

Ten seconds later, the old man took the phone away from his ear.

"Bang!"

The purple clay cup shattered on the stone table.

The cup wasn't broken, but all the tea spilled out, soaking half the table, with a few tea leaves dripping down the edge. Water droplets landed on the old man's trousers, but he didn't look.

The ripples on the water above my head made a slight movement.

The old man hung up the phone, put it on the table, and leaned on the armrests of the wicker chair, taking a long, deep breath.

He looked at Li Yichen.

"Something terrible has happened."

Li Yichen dropped his nonchalant attitude. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees.

"What's wrong?" he asked. "Who made you so angry?"

The old man gritted his teeth, the muscles in his cheeks twitching.

"Those idiots in America."

"What did they do?"

"The photo I just showed you." The old man pointed to the aluminum alloy box on the table, his finger trembling. "Their box is more than ten times bigger than ours. Inside is a set of encapsulated modules, which Bureau 749 calls the master control node. For thirty years, four generations, no one dared to connect a single wire inside."

Li Yichen's back pressed against the back of the chair.

"Why wouldn't you dare?"

"Because they dared not." The old man's voice was so low it sounded like it was being ground from the bottom of his throat. "They found out themselves nineteen years ago—that thing has two things inside, one self-destructing and one broadcasting."

There was a two-second silence in the courtyard.

Li Yichen could hear the vein in his temple throbbing.

"Just now," the old man said, enunciating each word clearly, "they forcibly cracked the core. Five minutes ago, Bureau 749 and all our deep space monitoring stations simultaneously received readings."

He paused for a moment.

"The cosmic coordinates of Earth have been broadcast."