​[SYSTEM REBOOTING…]

[INSTALLING PATCH 1.0…]

​The darkness wasn’t empty. It was noisy.

Ren Wu floated in a void of scrolling green code, but it wasn’t silent data. It was the sound of a thousand abacuses clicking at once, mixed with the roar of an ancient battlefield.

​”Host Integrity Critical,” a voice echoed. It didn’t sound like a robot. It sounded like a bored bureaucrat speaking through a megaphone. “Mana Overload detected. Converting excess energy to System Architecture upgrades…”

​Ren tried to speak, but he had no mouth. He could only watch as the blue interface expanded into a massive, holographic map.

​[DOMAIN MANAGEMENT UNLOCKED]

[TARGET: THE LAST STOP MEAT PACKING PLANT]

[STATUS: CONDEMNED]

​A 3D model of the factory appeared in the void. It was a disaster. The roof was caved in, the machinery was rusted red, and little black stick-figure ghosts were actively vomiting on the conveyor belts.

A large red stamp slammed onto the image: FORECLOSURE IMMINENT.

​[NEW FEATURE: TENANT MANAGEMENT]

​Current Tenants: 200+ Vermin Spirits.

​Rent Collected: 0 Spirit Coins.

​Profit: -500 Spirit Coins (Maintenance Costs).

​”Pathetic,” the System sneered. “You used to command Empires. Now you govern a trash heap.”

​Ren felt a surge of irritation.

Watch your tone, he snapped back mentally, projecting his old authority. I am the Minister of the Left. You are just the calculator. Show some respect.

​The System didn’t reply. It didn’t even dignify him with a glitch. It simply force-loaded the next window, effectively leaving him on ‘read’. The sheer pettiness of it made Ren’s non-existent teeth grind.

​[HOST STATUS]

​Name: Ren Wu

​Class: Necromancer King (Sealed)

​Level: 0 \rightarrow 1

​HP: 12/100 (CRITICAL)

​Mana: 0 / 100 (Drained for Upgrade)

​[ATTRIBUTE BREAKDOWN]

​Soul Strength: [???] (Divine Rank). You can stare down a god.

​Body Strength: 0.8 (Malnourished Teenager). You lose an arm wrestling match to a stiff breeze.

​[WARNING:]

[OUTPUT IMBALANCE DETECTED.]

Attempting to channel Tier-3 magic through this vessel will result in immediate liquefaction of the nervous system. Upgrade your hardware before you try to run high-end software.

​”Wake up, Warlord,” the System droned, ignoring his previous outburst. “Your tenants are waking up. And they are hungry.”

​Ren gasped, bolting upright.

The movement was a mistake. A spike of white-hot agony shot through his left shoulder, nearly blinding him.

“Ack-“

He collapsed back onto the pillow, sweat instantly beading on his forehead. His left arm was immobilized in a heavy sling, smelling of herbal paste and antiseptic.

​”Don’t move,” a voice said. Soft. Sharp.

​Ren turned his head.

His grandmother sat in the wooden chair beside his bed. The morning light filtered through the blinds, illuminating the dust motes dancing in the air.

She was peeling an apple.

Shhk. Shhk. Shhk.

The knife was old, the steel worn thin from decades of sharpening, but she handled it with the precision of a surgeon. One long, continuous ribbon of red peel curled away from the fruit, never breaking.

​She didn’t look at him. She stared at the apple, her expression terrifyingly serene.

​”Grandma,” Ren croaked. His throat felt like he had swallowed a desert. “I… I had a weird dream. I fell down the stairs at school and-“

​Thwack.

She didn’t slam the knife. She simply stopped peeling. The silence that followed was heavier than any shout. She slowly turned her eyes to him.

“Ren,” she said. “I changed your bandages. I saw the cut. That wasn’t a staircase. That was a cleaver.”

She pointed the tip of the paring knife at him.

“You smell like burnt iron. You smell like a grave that has been left open in the rain.”

​Ren swallowed hard. “It was… a really dirty staircase?”

​Grandma sighed. She sliced a piece of apple and held it out to him. It wasn’t an offer; it was a command.

“Eat. You’ve been unconscious for three days.”

​Ren took the apple slice with his good hand. “How much do you know?” he whispered.

“I know enough,” she said, resuming her peeling. “I know that the Wu family has been hiding from the Underworld for two generations. And I know that in one night, you managed to kick down the door we worked very hard to lock.”

​Ren chewed the apple. It tasted sweet, grounding him.

“Are you going to ask me what I am?” Ren asked.

“No,” Grandma said instantly.

“Why not?”

“Because knowledge has weight, Ren. If I ask, and you answer, the ‘Truth’ binds us. Right now, I can plead ignorance to the Enforcers. I will tell you the history of this family when you are strong enough to survive the answer.”

​Grandma reached into the pocket of her cardigan.

“But,” she said, her voice softening slightly. “If you are going to walk in the dark, you shouldn’t go empty-handed. This belongs to you. It’s been in the family for a long time.”

​She pulled out a small, heavy object wrapped in red silk. She placed it on the nightstand.

Ren felt it before he saw it.

A hum. A vibration in the air, like a plucked cello string. The shadows in the room seemed to bend toward the nightstand.

​Ren reached out. His fingers brushed the silk.

[ITEM DETECTED: THE TIGER SEAL OF AUTHORITY]

[RANK: COMMANDER (BROKEN)]

​He grabbed it.

FLASH.

​The bedroom walls dissolved into smoke.

Suddenly, Ren wasn’t in bed. He was standing on a cliff edge of black obsidian. The sky above was a bruised purple, crackling with red lightning. The air tasted of copper and ash.

Below him, a valley stretched to the horizon. And it was full.

Millions of soldiers—armored in terracotta and white bone—knelt in the mud. They stretched as far as the eye could see, a silent ocean of loyalty.

Ren looked down at his hand. He held the Tiger Seal. It glowed with an inner fire that outshone the lightning.

He didn’t shout. He simply pressed the Seal into the empty air.

THOOM.

The atmosphere buckled. A thousand enemy demons on the opposite ridge instantly fell to their knees, their wills shattered by the sheer weight of his Rank. They didn’t bow out of respect; they bowed because their souls were too heavy to stand.

“Kneel,” the Ancient Ren whispered.

​SNAP.

​Ren was back in the bedroom, gasping. The Tiger Seal sat in his palm—a block of dark, blood-red stone topped with a carving of a crouching tiger. It was warm. It didn’t feel like a tool; it felt like a limb he had forgotten he had.

​[PASSIVE SKILL UNLOCKED: AUTHORITY]

​Effect: The King does not argue with the Peasant. If an entity has a lower Soul Rank than you, this Seal compels obedience.

​Cost: 0 Mana. (Uses Social Pressure).

​Constraint: Does not work on entities with higher Authority (e.g., Section Chiefs, Gods).

​”My father used it as a paperweight,” Grandma said, watching him closely. “He said it gave him bad dreams. But you… you look like you just found your lost keys.”

​”We need to talk about money,” Grandma said, the sentimental moment evaporating instantly.

She reached into her other pocket and pulled out a piece of paper. It wasn’t normal paper. It was grey, fibrous, and smelled of ash.

“Apex Central Bank called this morning.”

​Ren frowned. “The bank?”

“The Nether-Credit Union,” Grandma corrected. “They handle the accounts for… families like ours. They don’t employ goblins, Ren. They employ Paper-Pushing Wraiths. Creatures who feed on delay and despair.”

​She slapped the grey paper onto his chest.

“This is an invoice from the Department of Spiritual Affairs. Sent by a ‘Mr. Liu’.”

​Ren picked it up. The text was written in red ink that seemed to shimmer.

​[INVOICE #4092-B]

[TO: REN WU]

[FROM: SECTOR 9 REAPER DIVISION]

​Unlicensed Necromancy (Class C): 2,000 Spirit Coins.

​Improper Disposal of Bio-Hazardous Zombie Meat: 3,000 Spirit Coins.

​Noise Complaint (Screaming Ghosts > 90 Decibels): 500 Spirit Coins.

​Unauthorized Use of ‘Grinder’ on Sentient Beings: 1,000 Spirit Coins.

​Administrative Processing Fee: 2,000 Spirit Coins.

​[TOTAL DUE: 8,500 SPIRIT COINS]

[STATUS: PAID (VIA CIVIL ASSET FORFEITURE)]

​”They drained the account,” Grandma said, her voice flat. “The University Fund. My retirement savings. The emergency cash. It’s all gone. They took every cent, converted it to Spirit Coins at a terrible exchange rate, and paid the fine.”

​Ren stared at the paper. “I saved the city,” he muttered, outraged. “I stopped a rogue Warlock. I destroyed a zombie army!”

“You saved the property value,” Grandma deadpaned. “The City sent the bill.”

​She stood up, leaning heavily on her cane. She looked smaller than usual.

“The fridge is empty, Ren. The electricity bill is due on Tuesday. We have zero assets. Actually, we have negative assets, because now the local ghosts know you’re awake, and they’re going to come asking for handouts.”

​She paused at the door. “And don’t bother asking for help. I tried calling your parents at the excavation site. No signal. As usual.”

​She opened the door.

“Fix it,” she commanded. “I don’t care if you’re a Warlord or a student. In this house, if you break the bank, you refill it.”

​The door clicked shut.

Ren sat in silence. He looked at the invoice.

8,500 Coins. That was a fortune. A low-level ghost hunter might make 50 coins a week.

He summoned the System.

​[CURRENT ASSETS]

[SPIRIT COINS: 0]

[HUMAN CURRENCY: $0.00]

[QUEST: THE STARTUP]

​Objective: Generate Profit.

​Time Limit: 30 Days (Before Utilities are cut).

​Reward: [Blueprint: Spirit Incense (Basic)]

​Ren started to laugh. It wasn’t a happy laugh. It was the low, dangerous chuckle of a man who realizes the game is rigged.

“Heroes get fined,” Ren whispered to the empty room. “Villains get rich.”

​He looked at his stats.

His body was broken. He needed Karma to buy “Body Refinement Pills” from the shop.

He was broke. He needed Spirit Coins to buy materials and pay the bills.

​He picked up his phone. He had 47 missed texts from Jian, mostly panic-emojis and links to job applications for fast-food joints.

Ren typed a single reply with his good hand.

​To: Jian (The Wallet)

Stop looking for jobs. Bring the laptop to school tomorrow. We are pivoting.

​From: Jian

Pivoting to what? Ghost hunting?

​Ren looked at the Tiger Seal on his nightstand. He picked it up, feeling the weight of command.

He typed back.

​To: Jian

No. Hunting is for peasants. We are going into Manufacturing.

​Ren shoved the phone under his pillow.

Author’s Note:

Arc 1 is complete! Ren survived, but now he is broke and in debt to the Underworld IRS.

Arc 2: The Business Empire begins next chapter!

If you want to see Ren scam the System and get rich, add this to your Library and drop a Power Stone! Every stone helps fund the factory!

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep