The neon lights of the Zhongshan District bled into the oily puddles of the narrow alleyway, casting a sickly rainbow over the grime. Rain hammered against the canvas roof of the Lin family's modest noodle stall, where the steam from boiling vats rose like a ghostly shroud around Lin Chen's father. At sixty, the man's spine was bent like a weathered bow from thirty years of carrying the weight of poverty. His hands shook as he served a bowl of thin, watery soup to a demanding customer who complained about the price of a three-dollar meal.
Lin Chen stood in the shadows of the eaves, his cheap sneakers soaked through with freezing rainwater. He watched his eldest brother, Lin Feng, haul heavy wooden crates of soy sauce from a delivery truck. Lin Feng was a man of silent strength, a former soldier who had traded his rifle for a delivery vest to keep the family afloat.
Nearby, their youngest brother, the brilliant but frail Lin Hao, coughed into a threadbare sleeve. He was trying to study a high-level calculus textbook under the flickering yellow glow of a street lamp that buzzed with dying electricity.
The injustice of it burned in Lin Chen's chest like raw acid. They were good men—honorable men. Yet, the world treated them like the dirt beneath its polished leather boots.
Suddenly, a black Mercedes-Maybach roared through the alley. It didn't slow down. A massive wave of filthy gutter water erupted from the tires, drenching Lin Feng from head to toe. From inside the car, the muffled sound of laughter drifted out—wealthy heirs mocking the "trash" in their way.
Lin Feng didn't curse. He just wiped the muddy water from his eyes and kept hauling the crate.
That was the breaking point. Lin Chen's vision blurred with rage, but then, a sudden, frigid silence enveloped the world. The rain froze in mid-air like diamonds suspended in glass. A translucent, golden interface erupted before Lin Chen's eyes with a sound like a celestial chime.
[Ding! Detecting intense fraternal devotion and resentment of fate...]
[Binding the "Supreme Brother-Doting System" to Host: Lin Chen!]
The voice was cold, regal, and absolute, vibrating through his very marrow. The screen shifted, displaying his brothers' stats in glowing red and blue.
[System Directive: The Host shall receive infinite rewards, knowledge, and power, but only through the act of elevating, protecting, and doting upon his brothers. The more you spend on them, the more you gain.]
[Initial Gift Pack: $1 Billion USD Starter Fund, Grandmaster Medical Knowledge, and God-Level Combat Instincts.]
A surge of warmth flooded Lin Chen's brain. Millions of anatomical charts, surgical procedures, and ancient pressure-point techniques carved themselves into his memory with surgical precision. His muscles tightened, shifting with the coiled power of a predator.
His phone vibrated in his pocket. He pulled out the cracked-screen device and stared at a notification that made his heart stop: Your account ending in 0808 has received a transfer of $1,000,000,000.00.
The world snapped back into motion. The rain fell. The laughter from the Mercedes echoed down the street. But Lin Chen was no longer the powerless second son.
He walked toward the stall, his stride steady and radiating an aura of hidden majesty that made the local thugs loitering nearby instinctively step back in primal fear.
"Big Brother, put the crates down," Lin Chen said. His voice was quiet, but it carried a weight that demanded absolute obedience.
Lin Feng turned, wiping grime from his face with a confused, weary frown. "Chen? What are you talking about? I have ten more loads to—"
Lin Chen didn't explain. He simply took the heavy wooden crate from his brother's arms. With a single hand, he crushed the thick timber as if it were a dry twig and tossed it into the trash.
"I said, put them down," Lin Chen repeated. He turned to the youngest. "And Hao, close that book. Tomorrow, I'm buying the university and every professor who wrote those problems."
"Chen, are you sick?" Lin Feng asked, reaching out to touch his brother's forehead. "You're talking nonsense."
"No more nonsense, Brother. No more noodles. No more rain." Lin Chen looked at the disappearing taillights of the Mercedes.
He spent the next hour under the guise of "winning an international lottery," forcing his parents to shut down the stall forever. Despite their tearful protests about "honest work" and "the value of a dollar," Lin Chen was relentless. By the time the moon reached its zenith, he had already purchased a sprawling $50 million hilltop villa through a shadowy offshore conglomerate the system provided in a heartbeat.
As he watched Lin Hao sleep in a bed with silk sheets for the first time—his cough already subsiding due to the secret medical treatment Lin Chen had slipped into his water—the system chimed again.
[Ding! Brother Lin Hao's comfort increased by 100 points.]
[Reward: 10% Shares of the Global Healing Pharmaceutical Group and "Perfect Pitch" musical talent for the Host.]
Lin Chen sat on the balcony of their new palace, looking out over the city skyline. He wasn't just a brother anymore; he was the God of Wealth standing in the shadows.
Heaven help anyone who dared to make his brothers shed another tear. He now possessed the knowledge to rewrite the laws of science and the capital to buy the souls of his enemies.
Miles away, in a glass skyscraper, the "Cold CEO Goddess" Su Qing stared at her computer. A sudden, anonymous $500 million investment had just saved her company from a hostile takeover. It came with only one condition: she had to provide a "personal internship" to a young man named Lin Hao.
Lin Chen smiled, a predatory, brilliant glint in his eyes.