Reborn a day later, I emptied my enemy's possessions beforehand.

Zhou Haibing had never slept so soundly before.

Although he only slept for about four hours, he had no dreams, no consciousness, and no anxiety, fear, anger, or regret during that time.

Like a machine that had run out of power, it was finally plugged in and, after several hours of silent charging, was revitalized.

From yesterday morning until now, he has traveled all over the provincial capital, emptying the belongings of eleven enemies, two pharmaceutical factories, five gold shops, four supermarkets, six pharmacies, and two warehouses.

He hypnotized all his enemies, slapped their faces, broke their legs, and kicked their genitals.

He transferred all their money away, more than 700 million yuan, leaving not a single penny behind.

He used that money to exchange for over 70,000 kinds of supplies and tens of millions of data entries.

From fertilizers to diesel generators, from agricultural drones to solar panels, from basic electromagnetism to quantum field theory papers,

From "Fundamentals of Mechanical Manufacturing" to the chip lithography process manual, from countless hit songs to countless classic films and television dramas.

His Shennong space was filled with enough things to sustain an era and build a civilization.

He was a dying man from beginning to end, using a broken body in his fifties with late-stage pancreatic cancer.

But he won.

He won decisively.

He no longer needs to compromise.

He no longer needs to hear anyone say "You should do this," "You should do that," "You shouldn't do this," or "You shouldn't do that."

No longer need to be morally blackmailed, emotionally exploited, or deceived by relationships.

There's no need for him to marry a woman who doesn't love him out of so-called filial piety.

There's no need to raise a brother who eats his flesh and drinks his blood just for the sake of so-called brotherhood.

There's no need to tolerate a wife who's been betraying you since you were twenty, all for the sake of so-called family harmony.

He can start over right away.

Zhou Haibing took a deep breath, exhaled all the stale air from his chest, and stepped out of the crooked wooden door of the abandoned house.

The sunlight grew brighter, making his face feel slightly hot.

He stood at the doorway, looking up at the unbelievably blue sky above, and the corners of his mouth unconsciously curved upwards.

Just then, the sound of police sirens came from afar.

At first, it was just a faint line, so thin that it was almost drowned out by the sound of the wind, as if it were drifting from a very, very far place.

But the line was becoming clearer and closer, its long tail trailing behind it, echoing through the valley with mournful cries, one after another, like a pack of wolves approaching from afar.

Zhou Haibing listened for a few seconds and estimated the distance—at least ten police cars were driving in from the dirt road outside the mountain, and the sound was rapidly approaching the valley.

He glanced at the system's countdown:

【00:01:07】

One minute and seven seconds.

enough.

He calmly turned off his phone screen and walked towards the open space next to the abandoned house.

The sirens grew closer, so close that you could hear two different tones alternating—

One was low and the other high-pitched, like two snakes intertwined as they crawled along a mountain path.

The wind blows by, carrying the scent of fallen leaves and dust.

Zhou Haibing stood on that open space, his hands hanging naturally at his sides, his gaze calmly fixed on the woods in front of him and the distant mountain ridge.

The morning light shone on the treetops, gilding each leaf with a layer of gold.

The bird chirped a few times, then fell silent.

The system's countdown ticked silently.

【00:00:17】

【00:00:16】

【00:00:15】

The sirens suddenly blared in the final seconds—

The police cars had already turned onto the only road leading to this mountain valley, the sharp screech of brakes mingling with the sound of tires crunching over gravel.

Someone was shouting, and the car doors were slammed open. At least several dozen people were rushing towards this side from that direction.

【00:00:03】

【00:00:02】

【00:00:01】

【00:00:00】

The next moment, Zhou Haibing felt a blur before his eyes.

All the light distorted into a dazzling white in the same instant, as if someone had shattered a glass full of sunlight in front of him.

The ground beneath his feet, the sky above his head, the trees, the leaves, and the figures in police uniforms rushing towards him from the bushes—

Everything was like a sheet of paper being gathered from the edges towards the center, curling, collapsing, and merging, eventually turning into a shapeless ball of white light that enveloped his entire being.

When the white light disappeared, there was nothing left where he had been standing.

All that remained was that dilapidated, abandoned house, sunlight shining on its mud walls and into the empty door frame.

From afar came the astonished shouts of dozens of people who had come up empty-handed, echoing through the empty valley, one after another, like stones falling into a deep well.

……

When Zhou Haibing woke up, the first thing he felt was a discomfort in his back.

Something hard pressed against his shoulder blade, like a protruding stone. He rolled over, and another hard, horizontal bar pressed down on his waist.

He opened his eyes and saw several gray wooden rafters, crookedly placed overhead, covered with a layer of dark tiles.

Some of the tiles were broken, and a few thin beams of light leaked through the cracks, shining on the ground, where dust could be seen slowly floating in the beams of light.

Hardboard bed.

He slept on a hard bed.

A thin layer of straw mat was laid on the wooden board, and on top of the straw mat was an old, faded bed sheet.

The pillow was a buckwheat hull pillow that had shrunk to almost nothing, and the patches on the pillowcase were sewn crookedly, clearly the work of my mother when she was still alive.

Zhou Haibing sat up abruptly.

The movement was too sudden, and his vision went black for a moment. He reached out to hold onto the edge of the bed and waited for the dizziness to pass.

Then he looked down at his hands—

Slender fingers with distinct knuckles, unhealthy sallow skin, wrists as thin as a dry stick, but no age spots on the back of the hands, firm skin without wrinkles.

His hand.

His hands when he was eighteen.

He raised his hand again and touched his face. The stubble was fine and soft, and the prickly stubble had not yet grown on his chin.

He touched his hair, thick, stiff short hair, his hairline completely different from when he was fifty-eight, growing neatly above his forehead.

He looked down at his body again—

A grayish-white old jacket, the collar frayed and worn, with a patch on the left sleeve, the stitches dense and tight, a testament to my mother's needlework.

Underneath the jacket were black coarse cloth trousers, the cuffs rolled up twice to reveal a slender ankle and a pair of tattered cloth shoes.

He really came back.

1976 years.