A circular scope appeared in front of Mavi's eyes, with a red dot centered on a luxury Mercedes sedan 60 meters away—a silver Mercedes C230.
He squinted, focusing on the scene before him while feeling the weight of a long, tubular metal object resting on his shoulder.
"Young Master, just pull the trigger after aiming, and it will launch," a middle-aged man in a black suit said respectfully in a low voice beside him.
The language the man spoke was one Mavi had rarely heard before, yet, for some reason, he understood it perfectly. Even the words coming out of his own mouth seemed to match the man's dialect.
"What did you say?" Mavi instinctively turned toward the man, still holding the metal object on his shoulder.
However, the moment he turned, the middle-aged man's expression changed dramatically. Fear spread across his face as he quickly dodged to the side. "No! No! Young Master! Not that direction!"
Seeing the man's panicked expression, Mavi quickly lowered the heavy object from his shoulder. It was only then that he realized what he had been holding—something he had only seen in movies and documentaries.
A portable RPG rocket launcher!
Basically, an anti-tank weapon like the ones seen in war films!
"What the hell… What's going on?"
If Mavi remembered correctly, just a minute ago, he had been riding his bicycle on the road. Then, suddenly, he heard a loud explosion behind him, followed by an out-of-control truck speeding toward him.
The next thing he knew, when he opened his eyes again, he was in this unfamiliar place.
"Wait… Did I just time travel?"
As someone who frequently read web novels, Mavi immediately thought of countless possibilities.
But before he could process it further, a splitting headache hit him! Memories that didn't belong to him flooded his mind at an overwhelming speed. It felt as if hundreds of silver needles were stabbing into his brain simultaneously. The pain was excruciating—his face twisted in agony, and cold sweat poured down his forehead.
"Young Master? Are you alright?" The middle-aged man looked at Mavi with concern, confused by his odd behavior.
Luckily, the pain came as quickly as it went. After about ten seconds, it disappeared without a trace.
Through these unfamiliar memories, Mavi confirmed that he had indeed time-traveled. The year was 2000, and the world appeared to be a parallel version of Earth.
He had also reincarnated into the body of a Russian heir to a weapons manufacturing empire. The young man's full name was "Mavi Ivanovich Mikoyan"—Mavi being his personal name, Ivanovich signifying his father's name, and Mikoyan as his family surname.
Coincidentally, this Russian Mavi Ivanovich Mikoyan, like his previous self, was also an orphan. His parents had died six or seven years ago in a traffic accident, leaving him with a massive 50,000-square-meter arms factory.
This factory employed around 600 workers, most of whom had been with his parents since the privatization of Russian military factories in the '90s.
The factory primarily produced licensed AK-47 rifles, autocannons, and military vehicle components.
"I'm fine, just a little tired," Mavi waved his hand, signaling that he was alright.
To avoid arousing the suspicion of his butler, Ivan, Mavi bent down to lift the RPG launcher off the ground again. He intended to destroy the distant Mercedes C230, just as the original owner of this body would have.
To capture the grandeur of the moment, the butler had even arranged for a photographer to record the entire event for the young master's later enjoyment.
"Young Master, just pull the trigger after aiming, and it will launch," Ivan said, still visibly nervous, afraid Mavi would suddenly turn the launcher in his direction again.
This time, however, Mavi aimed correctly. His posture was precise, just like a trained soldier. The only thing left to do was to pull the trigger.
Looking through the scope at the silver Mercedes, Mavi swallowed nervously. His stance looked professional, but the thought of actually blowing up a Mercedes C230 made his heart race.
After all, in 2000, a Mercedes C230 cost around 600,000 to 700,000 . That kind of money back then was equivalent to millions in later years! Destroying such a car with a single shot felt incredibly extravagant and wasteful. Not to mention, the RPG itself wasn't cheap.
"Gulp."
Mavi swallowed again. His rational mind told him this was completely unnecessary, but an intense urge to pull the trigger kept gnawing at him. It was as if some lingering desire from the body's previous owner was compelling him—if he didn't fire, this feeling would continue to haunt him.
He realized that suppressing this urge might even lead to psychological issues in the long run.
With that in mind, Mavi clenched his teeth, tightened his grip, and squinted through the scope again, ensuring that the red dot was locked onto the silver Mercedes 60 meters away.
Once everything was aligned, he took a deep breath, bracing for the impact, and pulled the trigger.
A loud "BOOM!" erupted in an instant!
The force jolted Mavi's hands and shoulder backward. The RPG might have been designed as a recoilless weapon, but the expelled gas still caused a noticeable kickback. He almost lost his balance!
As he steadied himself, he watched the black grenade streak through the air, trailing smoke in a perfect arc.
Then—
"BOOM!"
A second explosion roared through the air as the rocket struck the silver Mercedes C230 dead on. The impact lifted the car off the ground, engulfing it in fiery orange flames. Its doors and windows shattered into countless fragments, sent flying in all directions.
The shockwave from the explosion swept past Mavi's face, carrying intense heat with it. The sheer realism of the destruction confirmed that this wasn't a dream or a movie—it was all happening for real.
Everything had unfolded in the blink of an eye.
Mavi stood frozen, gripping the empty rocket launcher. His body trembled slightly as he stared at the burning wreckage that had once been a luxury sedan. The sheer adrenaline and thrill of the moment sent a strange excitement coursing through his veins.
"Young Master, that was incredible! A perfect shot!" Ivan, the butler, flattered him enthusiastically.
Mavi casually set the RPG launcher on the ground and wiped the sweat off his forehead without saying a word.
As for the destroyed Mercedes C230, the butler would have the servants clean up the mess. All Mavi had to do was return to the mansion, escorted by bodyguards, and continue his life as an extravagant young heir.