The Great Dao was finally quiet. It wasn't the silence of the void or the chilling hush of a graveyard; it was the hum of a city that never slept.
Chen Feng stood on the rooftop of a cramped apartment complex in downtown Shanghai, wearing a faded hoodie that said "I ❤️ NY" and a pair of flip-flops he'd found in a dumpster. Three months ago, he had been the Eternal Sovereign, the man who stitched the shattered laws of reality back together with fingers made of starlight. Now, he was a man who owed two months of back rent.
"Stabilizing the world was a mistake," Chen Feng muttered, staring at a flickering neon sign across the street. "I should have let the demons have it. At least they didn't require a 14-digit Wi-Fi password for basic communication."
When the Dao reset, the world's high-level energy had condensed into the "Information Age." High-speed data was just the modern version of spiritual transmission, and the "Cloud" was effectively a low-rent version of the Akashic Records.
Chen Feng's stomach let out a thunderous roar—a sound that, in his previous life, would have been mistaken for a Heavenly Tribulation warning. Now, it just meant he had skipped lunch.
"Mortal hunger," he sighed, his eyes glowing with a faint, residual gold light. "The most persistent curse of all."
He descended the stairs, his footsteps silent. In the hallway, he ran into his landlord, Auntie Wang, a woman whose scowl possessed more destructive power than a 9th-rank Soul-Eater.
"Chen Feng!" she barked, waving a rolled-up utility bill like a magic wand. "If I don't see four thousand yuan by Friday, I'm changing the locks. I don't care if you're 'meditating on the nature of existence.' Meditate on a park bench!"
Chen Feng stopped. In the old world, a person who spoke to him like that would have been erased from the genealogy of time. But the new Dao favored "Civil Harmony." If he vaporized her, the resulting karmic backlash would probably cause his smartphone to explode, and he hadn't backed up his photos yet.
"Auntie Wang," he said, bowing slightly—a gesture that had once made Kings tremble. "The constellations are shifting. Prosperity is coming."
"Prosperity doesn't pay for the water you used for those 'spirit baths'!" she snapped. "Friday. Or out!"
Chen Feng stepped out into the humid street. He needed money.
He walked toward a 24-hour convenience store, the "Heavenly Treasure Pavilion" of the modern era (or so he called it). Inside, the air smelled of Oden broth and floor cleaner. He approached the counter, reaching into his pocket.
He pulled out a small, jagged crystal that pulsed with a rhythmic blue light. It was a Frost-Fire Essence Core, a relic he'd kept from his battle with the Polar Dragon.
The cashier, a teenager with dyed green hair and a soul-crushing expression of boredom, looked at the glowing gem.
"Is that a vape mod?" the kid asked.
"It is the distilled soul of a beast that froze three oceans," Chen Feng said seriously.
"Cool. We only take cash, card, or WeChat Pay," the kid said, pointing to a small acrylic stand with a QR code.
Chen Feng looked at the square of black-and-white squiggles. To his Sovereign eyes, the QR code was a complex sealing formation—a miniature labyrinth designed to trap the wealth of the masses.
"I do not possess the... 'We-Chat'," Chen Feng admitted.
"Then you don't possess these spicy strips," the kid replied, sliding the snacks back.
Chen Feng walked out of the store, empty-handed and hungry. He looked up at the sky. The stars were barely visible through the smog, but he could feel the Dao pulsing. It was laughing at him.
Suddenly, a black Mercedes-Benz swerved toward the curb, tires screeching. Three men in cheap suits jumped out, surrounding a young woman who looked like she'd just stepped out of a high-end fashion magazine.
"Miss Su, the Chairman just wants to talk," one of the men growled, his hand reaching for her arm.
Chen Feng watched. In the old days, this would be a "Kidnapping the Sect Leader's Daughter" trope. Boring. Standard.
But then he saw it: the man's grip was flawed. His center of gravity was too high. His "Qi" was nothing more than the result of too many protein shakes and a bad attitude.
Chen Feng sighed. He didn't want to get involved, but he noticed a thick leather wallet protruding from the man's back pocket.
"Karmic rebalancing," Chen Feng justified to himself.
He stepped forward, his flip-flops clicking on the pavement. "Excuse me," he said, his voice carrying the weight of a mountain.
"You're blocking the sidewalk. And your aura is incredibly tacky."
The three men turned. The leader sneered, looking Chen Feng up and down. "Beat it, kid. This isn't a movie."
"You're right," Chen Feng said, a small, dangerous smile playing on his lips. "In a movie, there would be music. Here, there's only the sound of you hitting the pavement."
The man swung a heavy fist. To Chen Feng, the movement was slower than a tectonic plate. He didn't even use his cultivation; he simply stepped two inches to the left and tapped a pressure point on the man's wrist.
The man's arm went limp instantly. He let out a confused yelp as Chen Feng swept his leg.
Thud.
The other two froze. They hadn't even seen him move.
"Who are you?" the woman gasped, her eyes wide.
Chen Feng reached down, deftly plucked the wallet from the fallen man's pocket, and checked the contents. There were several crisp 100-yuan bills.
"I'm a consultant," Chen Feng said, pocketing the cash and handing the wallet back to the groaning man (after keeping the "consultation fee," of course). "And currently, I'm looking for a job that pays in something other than 'essence cores.'"
The woman, Su Meiling, stared at him. She recognized that look—it wasn't the look of a hero, but of a man who had seen the end of the world and found it slightly underwhelming.
"My father needs a bodyguard," she blurted out. "He's the CEO of Su Group. We pay... a lot."
Chen Feng paused. "Does your father have Wi-Fi? And does he know how to set up a 'We-Chat'?"
Su Meiling blinked, bewildered. "Yes?"
"Then lead the way," Chen Feng said, finally heading back toward the convenience store. "But first, I'm getting those spicy strips."