Chapter 1: Inheriting a Ruined Scrapyard

Shen Luming's eyes snapped open, assailed by a stench so potent—mold and rust mingled in the thick air—that it made his brain throb. A violent wave of dizziness washed over him, as if his mind was forcibly rebooting. Overloaded streams of information crashed into his synapses, causing his temples to pulse in painful rhythm.

He was lying on a sagging spring bed, the planks creaking in protest under his weight. All around him, mountains of scrap metal and broken plastic casings were stacked layer upon layer, towering so high they nearly touched the ceiling. Overhead, an old incandescent bulb flickered erratically, buzzing with the strain of failing current. The stuttering light strobed across his face, rendering his already chaotic vision even more blurred.

Fragmented memories flooded his consciousness, forcing him to clutch his temples in pain. Before his eyes flashed a red sheet of paper covered in numbers: the debt ledger for the Hongfa Scrapyard. The total was three hundred thousand. The glaring red digits pierced his retinas like nails.

Then came the image of Li Erli’s cold face, and the venomous warning that had echoed in his mind like a snake hissing, "If you don't settle up tomorrow, don't blame me for tearing your shop to the ground."

He took a deep breath, inhaling air thick with dust, and sat up. With trembling fingers, he flipped open a yellowed ledger. The edges of the pages were worn to tatters, densely packed with the history of this disastrous debt. This wasn't his home; it was a quagmire of near-bankruptcy.

Creditor pressure, rent demands, and market competition weighed on the crumbling scrapyard like three massive mountains, their weight pressing down even on Shen Luming's gaunt frame. He gritted his teeth, his jawline tight as steel, his gaze shifting from initial confusion to hardened resolve.

Now that he was here, he had to survive. Even in this heap of junk, he had to dig out a sliver of hope.

*Bang!*

The scrapyard's rickety iron gate was kicked open with brutal force, sending a cloud of dust cascading from the frame. Li Erli stood in the doorway, backlit, his shadow stretching long across the floor, accompanied by two hulking brawlers. He held a steel pipe caked with mud in one hand, a contemptuous smirk tugging at his lips as he scanned the dim interior, appraising them like cattle awaiting slaughter. "Boss Shen, stop hiding. Two hundred thousand, principal and interest. If it's not out today, I'll turn this dump into a landfill and haul it all away, truckload by truckload."

Shen Luming stepped out from the shadows, forcing his voice to sound steady despite his fingertips still trembling. "Brother Li, give me three more days. We have a batch of appliances coming in next month; once the cash is back, I'll settle it all, interest included."

Li Erli let out a cold laugh, stomping the steel pipe onto the ground with a heavy thud. Sparks flew, and the harsh screech of metal on metal echoed through the tight space. "Extend it? My patience is shorter than your life. I'm here to collect today. Cut the crap. Move."

Shen Luming tried to back away, but a shelf blocked his path. The cold, hard touch of the iron sheet seeped through his thin clothes, biting into him with icy chill. Just then, Auntie Wang from the tailor shop next door rushed in, her apron speckled with fabric scraps, needles and thread still clutched in her hand, panting hard. "Erli, what are you doing? This is a legitimate business. How long are you going to make a scene?"

Li Erli waved her off impatiently. A shove sent her feet sliding; she crashed heavily into a pile of scrap, the needle in her hand digging into her finger. Blood welled up, staining the white corner of her apron. Clenching her teeth in pain, she struggled to her feet, pointing a trembling finger. "You shameless scumbag! You'd hurt an old woman? Everyone is watching you!"

Li Erli didn't apologize. Instead, he stepped closer, jutting his finger into her face. "You nosy old hag. Keep your mouth shut, or I'll raze your shop along with mine!"

Just as the chaos peaked, urgent footsteps echoed from the alley entrance, accompanied by the rhythmic *thump-thump* of a wooden cane. Uncle Tie, the old craftsman, leaned on a wooden crutch he'd used for thirty years, advancing with terrifying aggression, planting himself squarely in front of Shen Luming.

His face was a map of wrinkles, like dried walnut shell, but his eyes were as sharp as a blade. He roared at Li Erli, "Li Erli! You think you can play the bully in front of me? This station might be a raggedy place, but every piece of scrap is acquired through legal trade. If you want to tear it down by force, ask my crutch first!"

Li Erli paused for a second, then his face twisted into a snarl, spittle flying. "You stubborn old fossil. Get out of my way or I'll break your legs."

Uncle Tie didn't flinch. He placed both hands firmly on Shen Luming's shoulders, his grip steady and heavy. "Luming, stay behind me. While Uncle Tie is standing here, nobody is touching a single hair on your head!"

The two brawlers hesitated, intimidated by Uncle Tie's ferocious stance, causing the atmosphere to tense until the air seemed to freeze.

Seeing the situation turning, Li Erli shot a look at his goons. They stopped worrying about Uncle Tie and barged into the shop, tearing through the clutter in search of valuables. Uncle Tie, furious, swung his crutch at the nearest thug. The brawler covered his head and retaliated with a solid kick to Uncle Tie's abdomen.

Uncle Tie let out a stifled groan, stumbling back two steps. His face went pale, blue veins bulging at his temples, but he kept his gaze locked on the vandals. "You dare lay hands on me? In public? Are you out of your minds!"

Li Erli stood at the doorway, arms crossed, watching with cold indifference, even goading his men on. "Hurry up! Drag that old bronze bell from the back out. See if it's worth anything."

The word *bronze bell* sent a strange jolt through Shen Luming's heart. The sensation shot up his spine, straight to the top of his head. Ignoring the pounding headache, he looked toward the massive, rusted mound in the forgotten corner.

Just as the chaos hit its peak, Uncle Tie, exhausted from exertion, knelt on one leg, his crutch carving a deep trench into the floor. As one of the goons reached for the dust-caked bronze bell, Shen Luming's vision went black for a fraction of a second. The world froze. Sound, smell, even pain—everything vanished, replaced by a scene of exquisite complexity.

Countless colored lines extended from every object, weaving into an intricate web. Red lines represented rage and danger; black lines signified decay and endings; gold lines denoted wealth and glory. Stunned, he watched these threads, a foreign term surfacing in his mind: Fate. So, he could see the Fate of all things!

The previous owner of this body had died in despair, but left behind the eyes that could peek into destiny.

Holding his breath, Shen Luming's gaze swept rapidly across the scrapyard. Most items were wrapped in murky, chaotic Fate lines, like tangled knots. Yet, deep within that heap of scrap copper and iron, a singular, unusually clear pale-blue thread of Fate burned quietly. It looked like a firefly in the dark, emitting a gentle, warm glow.

That strand of blue energy traced through complex pathways, finally converging on the old bronze bell wrapped in thick layers of rust. Shen Luming felt dizzy as his mind automatically parsed the information, as clear as a computer reading code: Wealth of Nobles, Grade B-Upper, Vessel: Ming Dynasty Blue-and-White Bronze Bell.

His heartbeat accelerated, blood rushing through his veins. This wasn't just scrap. It was a chance to reverse his fate. As long as he protected this bell, he could find a path to turn the tables from this desperate dead-end.

"Stop it!" Shen Luming exploded with unprecedented energy. He shoved aside the goon blocking his path and rushed to the bell, pressing his hand against its cold metal surface. His palm felt the rough texture, but his inner panic miraculously subsided. Li Erli was startled by the sudden move, then let out a derisive laugh. "Putting on a show? Some piece of trash like you dares to block my path?"

Shen Luming ignored the insult. He calmly pointed to the engraving on the bottom of the bell, partially obscured by rust. "Look here. It bears the reign mark of Emperor Hongwu of the Ming Dynasty. Though seven-tenths is covered by later repairs, the remaining three-tenths are enough to prove this isn't just old bronze—it's a tribute item that leaked from the imperial court."

The smile froze on Li Erli's face. He might not have been an antique expert, but he sensed the value. Greed flashed in his eyes, and his feet instinctively moved half a step forward.

Just as the standoff reached a critical point, the low, steady rumble of an engine cut through the alley's noise. A black Maybach slowly rolled into the narrow alley in front of the scrapyard, the tires crunching loudly over gravel before stopping. The window rolled down, revealing a middle-aged man wearing sunglasses, radiating an immense presence.

He didn't step out. He simply stared calmly at the bronze bell Shen Luming was guarding, then at the visibly shaking Li Erli. The gaze behind the lenses was unfathomable. Li Erli's arrogant expression turned deathly pale instantly. He recognized the license plate; it belonged to the Shen Family, one of the city's most powerful dynasties.

Trembling, he dropped the steel pipe from his hand. It clattered onto the ground. He tried to stammer out an explanation, but his throat felt tight, and he couldn't make a sound. His legs felt as heavy as lead.

Shen Luming looked up at the luxury car, his confusion deepening. The pale-blue thread of Fate seemed to resonate with the aura emanating from inside the vehicle. On the surface, he remained perfectly calm. He knew this wasn't just a wealthy patron attracted by the bell; it was the beginning of his counterattack. Li Erli collapsed onto the ground, his two goons equally pale-faced, too terrified to take another step.

Uncle Tie, leaning on his crutch, watched the scene with a sparkle of relief in his cloudy eyes, the corner of his mouth twitching upward. Shen Luming took a deep breath, his fingertips sensing the flow of pale-blue Fate within the bronze bell. The despair in his heart had long since dissipated, replaced by a sense of commanding control over destiny.

He slowly turned to face the luxury car at the entrance, a confident, cold smile spreading across his face. At this very moment, the gears of fate began to reverse.