In the interstellar era, the average lifespan was considerably long, especially for someone like Shen Ying, a tycoon who controlled vast wealth and had access to the highest medical resources.
Yet even so, she felt time was slipping through her fingers. The universe was too vast, too dazzling. Even as she approached the end of her life, she couldn’t possibly take in all its wonders—a regret, to be sure.
But this was only from an explorer’s perspective. In other aspects, Shen Ying was quite content.
After retiring from her post at the prison, Shen Ying fulfilled her wish and established a fleet with her substantial funds.
Tu Yi successfully joined the fleet thanks to his exceptional money-making skills.
For him, this was also a form of self-preservation. Unlike the other escaped convicts, he was a lone wolf with no powerful armed forces backing him. And given that he had swindled far too many influential figures, it was only a matter of time before they hunted him down.
Aligning with Shen Ying was a smart choice. Her unique background, along with her act of "lending a hand" to the Emperor during his time of crisis, ensured that most factions wouldn’t dare make a move against her.
After all, hadn’t she been the first—and only—special department head summoned by His Majesty before and after his coronation? And wasn’t she the sole one granted the privilege of staying overnight in the palace?
Her influence was undeniable.
Some even speculated that her sudden resignation and fleet formation were part of a secret mission assigned by the Emperor.
The current Emperor was nothing like his predecessor—a formidable ruler who had risen through blood and strife, his authority unquestionable.
Shen Ying didn’t care about Tu Yi’s motives. His financial prowess, which even she couldn’t match, made him an invaluable asset to her fleet.
With ample funding, her expeditions became far more leisurely.
The only nuisance was the frequent run-ins with the same pirate crew—the White Stone Pirates.
No matter which star system she ventured into, she’d inevitably spot their distinctive insignia.
Their slogan never changed: "We may not take your wealth, but we will take you."
Yet every time this happened, a massive corporate fleet would coincidentally pass by and intervene.
While Shen Ying marveled at the reach of Lien’s piracy, she was equally impressed by Lu Yu’s expansive business network.
It made her mid-sized fleet feel rather inadequate—though thankfully, she had the Emperor’s generous policies to fall back on.
As for how exactly those policies were negotiated, only Shen Ying, the Emperor, and perhaps the throne itself knew.
All in all, Shen Ying had never enjoyed life more.
The vastness of the cosmos and her extended lifespan allowed her to amass a staggering fortune.
As for Miss Zheng Yanhui, she had left long ago. Once Shen Ying completed her mission, Zheng wasted no time in disappearing.
She claimed she already had a system assigned to her and saw no point in wasting time here—especially when a bad plot twist could cost her life.
Since she hadn’t earned many points this round, losing any would be a poor trade-off.
Her departure also dashed the last hope of the system.
From then on, the system barely spoke. But Shen Ying was too busy enjoying herself to notice.
Only when her joyful life reached its end and she left the interstellar world did she finally have time for a chat with the system.
"Have you picked the next world yet?"
The system had adopted a policy of ignoring her unless absolutely necessary, but this question fell under its basic duties, so it replied mechanically:
[Next mission world selected. Does the host wish to enter?]
Shen Ying: "No rush. Calculate my points—how many do I have now?"
The system didn’t even want to look. Her mission completion rate was high, and she never spent a single point, so she’d accumulated a massive sum.
Yet not a fraction of this performance benefited the system.
Deflated, it answered: [Calculation complete. Host’s total points: 547,762.]
Truthfully, while this was a high number, it wasn’t jaw-dropping. A handful of players in the game had surpassed it.
After all, the redemption price to leave the game was one million points. Most players broke under the strain of missions, but there were always a few with iron wills and an unshakable desire to return to reality.
But how long had those players taken to earn their points? And how many worlds had they endured?
Just as the system was wallowing in despair, a realization struck.
Wait—why was she tallying her points? Did she plan to cash out and leave the game?
After all, someone who never spent points had no reason to check. She’d never asked in previous worlds.
Suddenly, the system felt a surge of hope, as if its mechanical existence had been revived.
Eagerly, it asked: [Does the host wish to leave the game? When did this idea occur? Why didn’t you tell me sooner?]
[Don’t worry—while one million points is the official requirement, I have insider discounts!]
[Given our long partnership and the bond we’ve formed, I’d risk punishment from my superiors to get you a 60% off deal.]
Just leave. Please, just leave.
The system wasn’t being presumptuous. It was certain that if it reported Shen Ying’s intentions, its superiors would pay her to go.
But Shen Ying just laughed. "Why would I want that? The day I signed the contract, I vowed to work here till I died."
"Besides, where would I go if I left?"
The system panicked: [There are options! If you don’t want to return to reality, we can arrange transfers—horror games, underdog games, revenge games, take your pick!]
[Especially the horror division—biggest scale, top resources, flexible rules, and advanced, player-friendly management.]
[Best of all, the admins are all stunning. Rumor has it that aside from the mermaid and the swindler (who are taken), the rest are single.]
[A talent like you belongs in the big leagues. Honestly, you might even break the record for fastest promotion to admin.]
By the end, the system was practically pleading: [Please, just quit. This lousy game isn’t worth it—we’re the lowest-rated in the entire multiverse.]
Shen Ying waved a hand, righteous as ever: [Enough. When I was at my lowest, this game took me in. I won’t abandon it for mere prestige.]
The system choked back tears.
Their recruitment tactics had never been kind to begin with.
Then Shen Ying suddenly said, "System, convert all my assets into points."
For a moment, the system forgot its sorrow.
The sheer amount of points Shen Ying’s wealth would yield could buy freedom for a hundred players—with plenty to spare.
For a small, scam-ridden game like theirs, this could shake the very foundations—
Then it hit the system: [Wait… are you planning to—]
Shen Ying merely smiled: "Go ahead and do it. At your efficiency, it should be ready by the time I finish my next mission."
The system was inwardly suspicious: [Are you sure about using all your funds?]
Shen Ying: "Yes, get started."
Once the exchange began, Shen Ying’s points panel would be locked—meaning she wouldn’t be able to purchase anything in the next world.
If she were sent into a high-risk world, one where death could strike instantly, even before she could activate her revival skill…
Wouldn’t that—
The system hesitated, tangled in conflicting thoughts, but in the end, it silently initiated the exchange and sent Shen Ying into the new mission world.
When Shen Ying opened her eyes this time, she found herself in a cramped room.
Inside was a small bed, a cluttered desk at its foot, a modest wardrobe a short distance away, and barely enough space to move around.
All of the original host’s belongings were confined here, a clear sign of financial struggle.
While absorbing the host’s memories, Shen Ying pulled out her phone to check the balances across various payment apps.
All together, it amounted to less than two hundred dollars—USD, to be exact.
Yes, USD. She was now in a version of the United States in some alternate world.
As for her financial situation, while two hundred dollars wouldn’t leave her starving immediately, if her memories were correct…
She still hadn’t paid this month’s rent.
The landlord had already threatened to throw her belongings out if she didn’t cough up the money soon.
Shen Ying sighed. This was probably her most destitute starting point yet.
Even in her first world, she’d been a working professional with some savings. And in the student world, though labeled a "poor student" in school, that was only relative to her peers—she’d still come from a comfortable, middle-class family.
After tidying up, Shen Ying stepped outside. The plot details hadn’t been transmitted to her yet, but this world was anything but ordinary.
This was a world of superhumans—individuals with extraordinary abilities, capable of nearly anything.
They were the center of attention, the world’s idols.
Global superstars weren’t just entertainers or business moguls anymore; they were these superpowered heroes.
They fought crime, championed charity causes, released music, and starred in blockbuster films.
The superhero industry had evolved into a vast, well-oiled commercial machine.
The world’s largest superhuman talent agency consistently ranked among the top three most valuable companies.
In other words, setting aside technological advancements, in terms of sheer individual power…
This world might even surpass the interstellar-era humans from her last mission.
Shen Ying smirked. Of course the game wouldn’t pass up this opportunity.
She looked up, taking in the streets plastered with posters of the hottest heroes.
Giant screens displayed their commercials and movie trailers.
Her gaze lingered on a colossal billboard featuring the five most famous—and most powerful—superhumans of the era.
Whether by the photographer’s intent or sheer presence, the five exuded an aura of dominance even in still images.
Shen Ying scanned their faces, thinking that even in an ordinary world, their looks alone would’ve made them superstars.
Perhaps superior abilities came with superior genes—and those genes clearly didn’t skimp on aesthetics.
With a shrug, Shen Ying moved on. She had work to get to.
Not that she cared about the job itself, but today was payday. She had to show up to avoid complications.
The original host worked at a bank, still just an intern, saddled with endless menial tasks.
Shen Ying wasn’t known for diligence, but she was an expert at slacking off. She was already planning how to coast until lunch when—
A burst of gunfire echoed through the bank.
Screams erupted as people dropped to the floor, hands over their heads.
Armed men emerged from all directions—some securing exits, others pressing guns to tellers’ heads to prevent alarms.
The bank manager was dragged out at gunpoint and forced to open the vault.
By sheer luck, Shen Ying had been standing near the manager when he’d come to reprimand her for slacking.
Now the robbers mistook her for his assistant and shoved her toward the vault at gunpoint.
Shen Ying was oddly enthusiastic about this task. Once the robbers fled with their haul, surely a few bills would get left behind, right?
Just yesterday, she’d spent billions customizing a mech. Today, she was reduced to scavenging loose change. The irony wasn’t lost on her.
The manager cooperated efficiently, and soon the vault door swung open.
The three robbers’ eyes gleamed at the sight—stacks of cash piled taller than a person, cubic meters of untold wealth.
But as they lunged forward, two thunderous crashes shook the corridor.
The ceiling collapsed, and two figures landed with brutal force.
Even without turning, Shen Ying could feel the robbers’ terror—their racing hearts, their panicked breaths.
"It’s Adam and Storm!"
"Damn it, why are they here? Weren’t they supposed to be in State D?"
Shen Ying recognized them instantly—two of the five heroes she’d seen on the billboard that morning.
The leader, Adam, had left the strongest impression. Golden-haired, blue-eyed, with skin like polished marble, he radiated an almost divine beauty—as if all the world’s grace had been poured into him.
"Adam" was his hero name; his real identity remained unknown.
The bank manager gazed at him like a devout believer witnessing a miracle, nearly prostrating himself before this beacon of hope.
Adam ignored him, addressing the robbers instead: "State D is two seconds away by flight, idiots."
He turned impatiently to Storm. "How much longer?"
Storm, every inch the polished elite, checked his watch. "The cameras won’t arrive for another five minutes. We need to wait until then to ‘rescue’ the hostages."
Adam scoffed. "You expect me to wait five minutes for these morons?"
Storm sighed. "The backlash from last time’s ‘collateral damage’ is still hurting our PR. The company insists we do this cleanly—on camera."
Adam rolled his eyes but didn’t argue further.
This was a world where superheroes ruled the spotlight—and where their heroics were often just staged performances.
The robbers, hearing this exchange, panicked. One pressed his gun to Shen Ying’s temple.
"Let us go, or I blow her head off!"
Adam and Storm didn’t even glance his way.
Desperate, the robber pulled the trigger.
Shen Ying felt the heat—time seemed to stretch infinitely. She could almost hear the bullet leaving the barrel, racing toward her skull.
The system held its breath, expecting her to activate her revival skill and rewind time.
But she didn’t. And in the next instant, just as the bullet was about to graze her skin—
A hand suddenly appeared, effortlessly catching the bullet mid-flight with a casual flick of the fingers.
Adam released his grip, letting the bullet clatter to the ground with a sharp metallic ring.
His voice carried a hint of amusement: "Keep quiet. Don’t make trouble for me. I’ll make it quick for you in five minutes."
The robbers were on the verge of losing it.
Then, Shen Ying suddenly spoke up: "Hey, you two, since I’m cooperating with this little performance, do I get paid?"
Looks like picking up spare change wasn’t an option—might as well earn a few meals out of this.
Her words drew the attention of both Adam and Storm, who hadn’t paid her much mind before.
Now they noticed this striking Asian girl seemed unnervingly calm.
Adam recalled how, even when he’d caught the bullet, she hadn’t reacted like someone who’d just escaped death.
At the time, he’d brushed it off as slow reflexes, but now—
Adam and Storm exchanged a glance, though neither seemed particularly interested.
Without hesitation, Adam replied, "No."
Shen Ying sighed in disappointment. "Won’t you reconsider? Your company’s PR budget isn’t exactly small. This whole image-saving stunt—wouldn’t it be fair to pay the lead actress?"
"Mind checking with your superiors?"
The two men found it both laughable and irritating.
Adam cut in, "I am the superior. And I said no."
Shen Ying could only shake her head in resignation. "I’ll do just about anything—except work for free."
