Boom, boom…"
Feeling the continuous explosions outside, and glancing at the indescribable mosaic-like mess beside him, Li Qingyuan felt a throbbing headache.
Who could tell him why he was awakened by bombs instead of firecrackers?
Originally, he was already dreading facing the nagging of his aunts and other female relatives about marriage, but now he finally breathed a sigh of relief.
As a middle-aged man nearing forty who still hadn't gotten married, every family gathering during the New Year was practically a trial.
Yesterday, he was still worrying about how to face today's family criticism session, but now, that was no longer a concern!
What he needed to worry about now was how to survive!
To be transported through time just from sleeping at home was too ridiculous.
For others, encountering such a thing might cause hesitation, but for Li Qingyuan, who was a failed novelist in his previous life, wasn't time-travel a normal, basic operation?
That's right, before he transmigrated, he was a struggling novelist.
Because of his terrible writing, skewed values, lack of innovation, and lack of imagination, he had almost no readers.
If he hadn't also worked as a security guard, he probably would have had difficulty even surviving.
But now...
Li Qingyuan looked around at his surroundings and felt like he was in deep trouble!
He was currently in the living room on the second floor.
The predecessor of this body had been preparing to eat dinner with his parents when a missile flew in from somewhere, fell directly through the ceiling, and exploded with a loud bang.
Logically speaking, being hit in the face by a missile at close range should have meant certain death, unless he had superhuman physique.
But clearly, the great god of transmigration didn't play by the rules.
Even though the body's parents and the two unlucky people taken down by the missile had all become indescribable mosaics, his body was still unscathed, without even a scratch.
Of course, it wasn't completely unscathed, since the soul had been replaced!
He patted his cheeks and gleaned his memories from the remaining soul fragments.
The unlucky kid he transmigrated into was called Jack Ma, 18 years old, a Chinese-American born in the small Eastern European country of Sokovia.
"Damn it!"
Learning of his situation from the memory fragments, Li Qingyuan couldn't help but curse.
Jack Ma's parents were native-born Chinese, but three months before he was born, his parents sold their five ancestral courtyards in the capital and came to Sokovia to make a living.
Well, this story was so ridiculous it could make anyone cry with laughter, but considering the social environment at the time, this kind of suffocating operation did happen quite a bit.
Fortunately, although Jack Ma's parents did something suffocating, they were quite diligent.
For more than ten years, they worked hard in Sokovia, relying on the Chinese people's love for real estate, and finally owned a building in Sokovia.
That's right, you read that right, the transmigration came with a building.
Jack Ma was also a second-generation landlord in Sokovia.
Only now...
Listening to the constant explosions in his ears, he estimated that his time as a second-generation landlord was probably over!
He shook his head, putting his dreams of being a second-generation landlord behind him.
What he needed to consider now was how to survive.
The gunshots and explosions outside were chaotic.
Although he didn't know what exactly was happening, he knew with his toes that something major had definitely happened!
Even missiles could fly into his living room, so one could imagine how chaotic it was outside.
But staying put was definitely not a good idea.
Because there was still a missile stuck above his head!
This six-story apartment building was the asset of his predecessor's parents.
The first floor was a restaurant, the second floor was where his family lived, and the third floor and above were all rented out.
The missile seemed to have flown in from the third-floor window, directly blasting through the third-floor floor and the second-floor ceiling, and then exploding in his living room.
The missile stuck above his head was about a meter long, leaning at a strange angle in the third-floor floor.
The missile could explode at any time, and even if it didn't explode, if it fell from the third floor, it would probably explode with a 'bang'.
So his current priority was to quickly escape from this dangerous building and find a safe place to hide.
Although it wasn't safe outside now, it was still much better than having a missile above his head!
But just as he was about to run, he suddenly noticed that the missile had the Stark trademark on it.
Stark Industries?
Li Qingyuan's mind buzzed.
When he learned that the country he was in was Sokovia, he didn't have much of a concept, because Eastern Europe was full of small countries.
Unless you were an expert in world geography, no one would dare say they could remember the names of all the countries.
But Sokovia, plus Stark Industries, if he still couldn't remember, then he would really be ashamed of his name as a struggling writer!
He actually, inexplicably, transmigrated into Marvel?
And what was even more infuriating was that others who transmigrated into Marvel started directly in New York.
The village chiefs of the newbie village were either Phil Coulson or Spider-Man, or Iron Man or Kingpin.
But what about him?
He started with a Stark Industries missile to the face?
The difference was too big, wasn't it?
And if he remembered correctly, the parents of this body had just been sent to heaven by a Stark Industries missile, right?
Strictly speaking, wasn't Iron Man the enemy who killed his parents?
"Wooo… woo…"
Just as he was daydreaming, he heard crying amidst the explosions.
There were still survivors?
Li Qingyuan looked up.
Because his vision was blocked, he couldn't see the scene on the third floor, but clearly, the crying was coming from the third floor.
But he wasn't planning to save anyone now.
Who knew when the missile would explode; he should run away quickly.
He finally got a chance to transmigrate, and he didn't want to redo it because of doing good deeds.
This was the Marvel world, where BOSSes ran rampant and aliens went crazy everywhere.
His small arms and legs couldn't bear the title of hero.
Besides, with his personality, it was too difficult for him to be a hero.
The door had been destroyed by the aftershocks of the explosion, but fortunately, it was only the second floor.
Jumping down would at most sprain his ankle, no big deal.
But just as he took a step to walk to the window, his steps turned back as if by magic.
Seemed like?
In his memory, the couple renting his house upstairs had a somewhat strange surname.
Seemed to be called Maximoff?