Chapter 1: Bound to National Fortune at Rock Bottom

Lin Yuan huddled in the damp corner of the warehouse, the air thick with the stench of mold and rust. Rain dripped from the crumbling roof, each drop sounding like an echo of despair pounding in his chest. The water pooled on the dirty floor, creating murky puddles that reflected his pale, bloodshot face back at him.

With trembling fingers, he slowly opened the rusted iron box. The metal scraped against itself with a sharp, grating sound that cut through the silence of the late-night hour. Inside lay a single bank passbook for three thousand yuan, the paper yellowed and curled, alongside a set of bronze restoration tools with chipped edges, covered in grime.

This was all he had left. It was his entire fortune, and the last shred of dignity he clung to in this cold, unforgiving world.

Thunder rumbled outside, rolling across the sky. It sounded like it was mocking his incompetence, or perhaps suppressing a power about to erupt. The screen of his phone suddenly lit up, the faint glow piercing the darkness of the warehouse, blinding Lin Yuan for a second. For a moment, he thought it was some long-overdue hope, maybe Su Qing finally having a change of heart. But when he read the message, that weak spark of hope died instantly.

Su Qing: "Don't get any ideas. The engagement is off. This is just a notification. A useless piece of trash who can't even take care of himself—what future could you possibly have? Don't come looking for me again. It's embarrassing for everyone."

The words were short, cold, and brutal. Each character felt like a sharp dagger driven deep into Lin Yuan's chest. He stared at the text, his fingertips turning white from the pressure, the phone nearly slipping from his grasp.

He remembered three years ago. Back then, he was a prodigy who had swept the top spot at the provincial restoration competition. Under the spotlights, everyone had said he had the potential to become a Grand Master, his future limitless. But then the family disaster hit like a storm. His father passed away, leaving massive debts in his wake. He had fallen from the clouds into the mud.

Now, the Su family, which once treated him like a treasure, had nothing left but mockery and contempt. Su Qing’s words whipped across his heart like a lash. It was a wound that would never heal, pain so intense he nearly vomited.

"Useless?" Lin Yuan muttered, his voice hoarse, barely recognizing his own tone, laced with a broken tremble. He clenched the bank passbook, his knuckles cracking slightly, as if trying to crush that pathetic sliver of hope. Refusal to accept fate grew like wild weeds in his heart. He suppressed his rage, letting it simmer beneath the roaring storm, his gaze gradually sharpening to a blade's edge.

Su Qing looked down on him because he had nothing. No status, no money, not even a decent reputation. But Lin Yuan, this Lin Yuan, would not beg for pity or live in lowliness. Dignity wasn't something given to you; it was something you fought for, step by step, even if you had to stand firm on a bed of thorns.

Just then, a mechanical voice, devoid of emotion, rang out in his mind. It was cold and clear, as if coming from a distant void, instantly drowning out the sound of the rain.

*Ding! The National Fortune Redemption System has been formally activated. Host binding complete. Detected host's emotional fluctuation meets activation criteria. Initial low-level mission released: Repair a damaged Bronze Jue. Mission Background: The return of cultural relics lost overseas has been blocked. The host must locate the fragments and complete the repair on their own. Reward: National Fortune Points.*

Lin Yuan froze where he stood. Raindrops fell on his shoulders, running down his spine, but the cold no longer seemed to bite. He thought it was a hallucination, or perhaps some neural disorder caused by long-term malnutrition. His body was rigid, afraid to move. But a system interface floated before his eyes, a faint blue aura clearly displaying the mission details, data streams refreshing like a waterfall.

The Bronze Jue was a gem of national heritage, now scattered overseas, its pieces lost to the winds. The system said he could find the fragments, repair the artifact, and earn National Fortune Points. It sounded like an absurd dream, but in the abyss of despair, it was the only light cutting through the dark.

He took a deep breath, forcing the turbulent waves of his inner turmoil to settle, his chest heaving violently. If the system said the mission was doable, it meant there was a path forward. He examined the mission hints closely and realized the fragments were hidden in a nearby antique market. It was a mixed bag, a place where true experts and scammers lurked together, thick with greed and deception.

Lin Yuan gritted his teeth. He decided to splurge his last five hundred yuan on basic materials and go hunt for it. It was a gamble: he either flipped his life around or sank completely. There was no middle ground.

He stood up. His legs were numb from huddled in the same spot for so long. The puddles shattered under his feet, splashing mud onto his clothes, but he kept his eyes straight ahead, walking firmly toward the warehouse exit. His silhouette looked resolute against the dim light.

The rain hit its peak just then, as if a curtain had been drawn across the sky and earth. Lin Yuan had no umbrella, no raincoat. He just lowered his head and walked through the streets submerged in water. The icy rain soaked his hair and slid down the corners of his eyes, but he didn't care.

He avoided the commercial districts with their flashing neon lights. Those bright shops were too glaring for him, seemingly flaunting his poverty. He headed straight for the antique night market at the edge of the city, where the lights were dim, the stalls cluttered, and the air smelled of dust and old things.

In his mind, he replayed historical diagrams of the Bronze Jue over and over. The broken lines, the rust stains—he memorized them all. He needed to find the fragment that formed the main body of the vessel. Even if it was rusted to an unrecognizable state, even if it was hidden in the most inconspicuous corner.

At one of the stalls, an old man hunched over, wiping a copper coin under the weak light, his movements slow and mechanical. Lin Yuan walked to a dull corner where a pile of broken porcelain shards, rusted iron, and uninterested trash was stacked. His eyes swept the mess like a hawk's. Finally, they locked onto a piece of copper about the size of a fingernail.

The copper piece was covered in thick green rust, its shape distorted, looking utterly insignificant among the waste. But Lin Yuan's heart started pounding. He recognized the faint patterns on it. Those were the remnants of cloud-thunder motifs, unique to late Western Zhou dynasty Bronze Jues, the lines flowing with a mysterious grace.

The stall owner, the old man, lifted his cloudy eyes and glanced over casually. "Scrap metal? You want to buy it? Ten bucks. Take it or leave it."

Lin Yuan didn't speak. He just extended his rough finger and gently scraped away the dirt and dust from the edge of the copper, revealing a hint of deep, dark gold. He looked at the old man calmly, his voice steady. "The oxidation level is wrong. There's no crystal precipitation inside the copper. It's artificially aged over the last ten years, but the technique used to carve the patterns is Ancient Restoration style. Where did you get this?"

The old man's expression changed. His eyes flicked around, and his hand instinctively reached toward his pocket. Lin Yuan spoke quickly, "Suspicious source. But I only want this fragment. Five hundred. Deal, or I call the police for an inspection and we shut down your whole stall."

The old man stared at Lin Yuan for a long time. In this rainy night, the young man's gaze was terrifyingly determined. Eventually, the old man sighed, grabbed the loose change on the table, and tossed it down, looking resigned and bitter. Lin Yuan took the copper piece, wrapped it carefully, and turned to leave without looking back.

He ran through the downpour. Rain poured down his collar, biting into his bones with icy cold, but his heart was burning hot, like a flaming fire. He knew that once he took this step, there was no turning back.

The warehouse door creaked open, and he slipped inside, quickly shutting it behind him. He stuffed old rags into the gap to block out the wind and rain. He lit an oil lamp, its dim yellow light flickering in the breeze, casting long shadows. From the system shop, Lin Yuan redeemed basic solder and the skill book *Introduction to Ancient Restoration*.

The skill book's information flooded his brain instantly. Those dry formulas and techniques turned into intuition, flowing through his limbs and bones as if he had known how to do this his whole life. He took out the copper piece, placed it on the workbench, took a deep breath, and began this silent battle.

The restoration process was extremely tedious and dangerous. The fracture lines on the Bronze Jue were fine; a slight mistake would shatter the piece. Lin Yuan held his breath, his focus absolute. Tweezers held tiny pieces of solder, but his fingers trembled violently from cold and tension. The first attempt failed. The solder slipped, burning his fingertip red with piercing pain.

He gritted his teeth and kept going. Sweat mixed with rain, dripping onto the copper piece with a sizzling sound, rising in white steam. Six hours passed. His eyes were bloodshot, but he never left the workbench. The light flickered. The warehouse door was suddenly slammed open by a gust of wind, the loud crash making Lin Yuan flinch.

Lin Yuan's heart sank. Instantly, he covered the traces on the workbench with debris and hid the copper piece in his sleeve. He held his breath, pretending to be dozing off, but in the darkness, he stared at the entrance, his heart hammering like a drum. Was it Su Qing? Or those enemies who had framed him in the past? How did they find this place?

The wind howled outside, but no footsteps approached. Only the rain continued. It wasn't until the wind died down and the sound of the door closing reached his ears that he dared to let out a long breath. Cold sweat soaked his spine. He knew he had won the bet, but he also understood that he could make no more mistakes, or all his efforts would be lost.

He picked up the tweezers again and continued the intricate operation. Using the new intuition he had acquired, he judged the angle for joining the copper pieces. It was work that required extreme patience. Every millimeter of misalignment could wipe out hours of effort.

He seemed to enter a trance-like state. The world around him vanished; all that remained was the tool in his hand and the fragment before him. Time became viscous and slow. His consciousness floated on the edge of chaos, and the only real thing was the cold touch of metal against his fingertips—that was his only connection to the world.

Finally, the last fragment fit into place with a perfect, seamless snap. Lin Yuan gently blew away the excess dust, his movements as tender as if touching an infant's cheek. The Bronze Jue had regained its complete form. The once-dull metal surface began to shine with a古朴, solemn luster. It seemed to have traveled through a thousand years of time, re-emerging with the vitality of life, gleaming brightly under the dim lamp.

He stood up, his legs so numb he nearly collapsed. He stumbled, catching the table for support, but the light in his eyes was brighter than it had ever been. That was the light of new hope. The mission progress read one hundred percent. Complete.

The system notification sounded again, crisp and melodic, breaking the deathly silence of the warehouse.

"Ding! Mission complete. Received ten National Fortune Points. Account balance received: ten yuan."

Lin Yuan looked at the notification popping up on his phone screen. The corner of his mouth twitched into a smile he hadn't worn in ages. There was a hint of bitterness in it, but more was steadfastness. Ten yuan?

Yes, just ten yuan. To a former wealthy heir, it was a joke. But to the him of now, it was a priceless treasure. In this desperate situation, behind these ten yuan was the boost of National Fortune, a certification of his strength by the system, and the foundation for him to stand back up.

He clenched his fist, feeling the power in his palm, his bones creaking slightly. From now on, his fate would be completely rewritten. He would no longer be the trash trampled by others, but a master of his own National Fortune. Outside, the rain began to ease, and a faint fish-belly white tinted the horizon. A new day had begun.