Chapter 1: I Pulled Seven Hundred Million Out of My Phone

Parallel universe—please don’t take this as a reflection of reality.

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“Rejected again? Is fate determined to keep me from becoming a wage slave?”

Staring at the courteous rejection letter from yet another company in his inbox, Zhang Kai’s face was clouded with worry.

How many is that now?

If this keeps up, not only would his standard of living decline—he’d have to move into an even shabbier, more remote apartment, too.

Was he really destined to haul bricks at a construction site?

The pay wasn’t bad, but Zhang Kai hesitated. He could endure hardship and exhaustion for money, but if his parents ever found out that the college graduate they’d poured their life savings into had ended up working construction—contributing bricks and mortar to the nation—they’d probably be furious to death.

Running his hand through his hair, Zhang Kai pulled out his phone and opened King of Glory.

Forget it. He’d play a round to vent his frustration—take his bitterness out on his digital enemies.

He entered the game, started a ranked match, and chose his best hero, Luban. Focusing his mind, he soon fell into the rhythm, dominating the field, standing out above the rest.

“Damn, is this idiot Yao even playing right? Didn’t you see me mowing everyone down? Why are you sticking with Lü Bu instead of me? That moron has already fed five kills, for crying out loud.”

“Whoa, Kai, wait, wait, it’s a misunderstanding, let me go, let me go!”

“Ah, I almost made it, don’t kill me, get out of the way!”

Just as he was cursing out his support, Kai burst out of the nearby grass. Zhang Kai hurriedly made Luban flash away, but the opposing Kai—who had already been killed three times by Zhang—seemed determined to cut Luban down, pursuing relentlessly.

Zhang Kai’s palms were sweating, his fingers flying across the screen.

Just as Kai activated his skill, about to finish him off in one blow, Zhang’s thumb suddenly plunged into the phone. As he swiped, the furious Kai was pushed back by an invisible force, his attack missing its mark.

The scene stunned even Zhang Kai himself; for a moment, he forgot to counterattack.

Did I just push Kai away?

Wait—how did my hand get inside the phone?

He wiggled his thumb, pushing it back into the game interface, and it passed through as if dipping into water, with no resistance. When Kai charged in again, Zhang’s finger blocked his path—he couldn’t get near Luban at all.

What the hell? Is this real?

What’s going on?

Have I just gained the legendary golden finger?

After the initial shock, Zhang Kai was overjoyed. With a golden finger like this, who cared about the game anymore? Testing his new ability was far more important.

He ignored Luban and began exploring the phone with his hand.

Soon, Zhang discovered it wasn’t just his thumb—his entire right hand could slip into the phone. He could touch the battlefield of King of Glory, and even pinch Luban’s little face, which felt surprisingly real.

Just then, Kai charged again. Instinctively, Zhang withdrew his hand—and then witnessed something incredible.

Luban had been pulled out of the arena.

Though the character shrank to only about a meter tall and lasted less than a second before dissolving into a stream of data and vanishing, leaving Zhang’s hand empty, the shock was overwhelming.

He wasn’t scared—he was astounded.

One thought echoed in his mind.

I actually pulled a character out of my phone!

This is… miraculous!

Watching the dumbfounded Kai, who was left in the game after Luban’s sudden disappearance, Zhang Kai grinned, exited the game, and opened Tencent Video.

His eyes gleamed, heart racing, mouth dry.

He was about to conduct an experiment—and if it worked, it would open a door to the divine.

He searched for a movie: The Millionaire of Xihong City.

It was a wildly popular rags-to-riches film, but the scene that had left the deepest impression on him was the bank vault brimming with stacks of cash—a sight impossible to forget. So much money! He’d fantasized more than once about having it all for himself.

What was once a fantasy might now become reality.

He just hoped the money wouldn’t vanish like the game characters.

With fervent hope, Zhang Kai skipped ahead to the scene where Teng Kawaii and Zhuang Dandan were wheeling a chair through the vault. Even though he’d seen the film two or three times, the sight of those piles of cash gleaming under the lights never failed to overwhelm him.

A billion in cash—the visual impact was unmatched.

If only I could have all that…

His mouth went dry, palms sweating, heart pounding against his chest.

Suppressing his nerves, Zhang Kai stretched a trembling hand toward the phone.

His hand slipped in easily.

First step: success.

He reached for one of the red bundles of banknotes, grabbed it, and pulled his hand out quickly.

Sure enough, a bundle of cash came with it.

Chairman Mao’s friendly face smiled up at him, and Zhang watched anxiously.

One second, two seconds, three… nearly a minute passed and the cash was still there, solid and real!

Holy crap—I’ve hit the jackpot!

Excitement surged through him.

With shaking hands, Zhang untied the bundle and counted: ten stacks, ten thousand each—a hundred thousand in all.

Just a reach of the hand, and I’ve got a hundred grand?

Even a windfall from the sky couldn’t compare to this!

He savored the feel of the notes, breathing in their scent, intoxicated as if it were the world’s finest perfume.

After a while, his excitement cooled and he examined the money closely. It was recent, familiar, and perfectly usable.

But a mere hundred thousand wasn’t enough—he could get more!

His gaze returned to his phone; the story was still playing, and no one seemed to have noticed his little heist.

Even if they did, so what? Was Teng Kawaii going to jump out of the phone and demand the money back?

Grinning, Zhang rewound to the vault scene, pausing as Zhuang Dandan pushed the wheelchair.

He wasn’t about to let anything interrupt his road to riches.

He wasn’t sure if pausing would affect his golden finger, but he tried.

It worked—he pulled out another bundle, and it didn’t disappear.

It works!

Zhang was thrilled, and he began pulling out bundles of cash, again and again…

Bundle after bundle flowed from the phone, while in the movie, the piles of cash vanished.

Meanwhile, Zhang’s tiny apartment was filling up with a mountain of money.

He was so absorbed in his treasure hunt that he lost track of time. Eventually, when he pulled out yet another bundle, there was no place left to put it.

His modest apartment, just a few dozen square meters, was now packed to the brim with stacks of cash.

At this point, Zhang Kai almost found it absurd.

One moment he was worrying about unemployment; the next, his problem was too much money and nowhere to put it.

Life’s ups and downs were truly exhilarating.

Wait—if I’ve taken all the money, can the movie still play?

He looked at the half-empty vault on screen, puzzled, and hit play.

The next instant, the movie turned to static—the video had crashed.

Zhang was speechless.

With the most crucial prop missing, had he broken the film itself?

Did this mean no one could watch this blockbuster anymore?

Curious, he hurriedly dug out his old, battered laptop—a reward from his mother in college, now so slow it was nearly obsolete. He rarely used it anymore.

Shoving aside the cash, he plugged it in, waited for it to start, then opened Tencent Video and searched for The Millionaire of Xihong City. To his surprise, it played normally.

He skipped to the bank vault scene—there were the stacks of money, untouched.

He paused and pulled out another bundle from the screen.

Staring at the cash in his hand, Zhang pondered.

It seemed the golden finger only affected the device in use.

In other words, as long as he needed more, he could open the same movie on countless phones, laptops, computers, or tablets, and take out the same things again and again.

This was simply too wonderful!

Now that he understood his golden finger better, Zhang couldn’t help but let out a wild yell, then dove onto his mountain of cash, rolling around in delight.

After a long frenzy, Zhang finally calmed down, grabbed two bundles of bills, stuffed them in his pocket, and headed out.

He had the money. Now it was time for step two: testing if it could actually be used.

If not, it was nothing more than a pile of scrap paper—too rough even for toilet use.

Leaving his apartment building, he walked to a self-service bank a few hundred meters away, took out his bank card, and checked his balance.

1,750.42.

That was all he had left.

If he couldn’t find a job, he’d have to shamefully ask his parents for money again—becoming the kind of dependent adult he once despised.

But now, if the money was real, he’d be a bona fide billionaire.

Even after repeated encounters with cash, his heart still pounded in anticipation.

He opened the deposit slot, placed a bundle inside, hit ‘deposit,’ and waited.

Moments later, the transaction succeeded, and his new balance read 11,750.42. The weight on Zhang’s chest finally lifted.

From now on, I, Zhang Kai, am a god-tier tycoon.