Time always has a way of slipping through one’s fingers.
In the blink of an eye, another three months had passed.
Outside the window, the leaves of the plane trees had shed their pale spring green, deepening into a lush emerald.
Whenever the wind blew, they rustled softly, as if whispering about the relentless passage of time.
“Time is gold, indeed!”
Xia En sighed softly, his fingertips unconsciously tracing a small metal fragment in his pocket.
It was a piece of scrap left over from his early research into nuclear batteries.
“For every researcher, it probably feels this way.”
He looked toward the distant direction of the Massachusetts Institute of Technology, a flicker of memory crossing his eyes.
“To keep up with the pace of the era, one must constantly drill away in the laboratory.
You don’t dare slack off for a second; even a single minute gained can lead to an entirely different breakthrough.”
The corners of his mouth curled slightly, and a touch of gratitude surfaced in his gaze.
“Fortunately, I am much luckier than the average researcher.
At least I have a roadmap ahead of me.
I don’t have to grope around blindly in the dark, nor do I have to repeat the detours taken by those who came before me.”
At this moment, Xia En had just concluded his experimental career at MIT and was stepping back into society.
He wore a simple white shirt with the sleeves rolled casually to his forearms, revealing sleek, lean wrists.
A trace of lingering exhaustion remained on his face, but it couldn’t hide the brilliance in his eyes.
The sunlight fell across his face, highlighting a radiant smile.
Within that smile was the joy of a successful harvest, anticipation for the future, and a certain hidden satisfaction from having successfully “fleeced the sheep.”
What made him so happy wasn’t just the fact that he had thoroughly mastered the core technology of nuclear batteries.
That was a result earned through countless days and nights in the lab—repeatedly tuning, discarding, and restarting until every data point and every component embodied his hard work.
More importantly, three days ago, three hundred million dollars had suddenly appeared in his bank account.
That morning, he had opened his mobile banking app as usual.
He had only intended to check his balance for daily expenses, but he was stunned by the long string of digits on the screen.
He froze for several seconds before it finally registered.
There was no need to guess the source of these funds; it was undoubtedly the generous Tony Stark.
Xia En laughed inwardly.
Tony Stark, one of the wealthiest men in the Marvel world, was perhaps the best “angel investor” any transmigrator could ask for.
He was extravagant and never stingy.
It was just that this investor led a life fraught with misfortune, constantly plagued by various troubles.
Yet, every transmigrator who profited from him lived a particularly comfortable life, and Xia En was no exception.
Speaking of which, things had played out a bit strangely.
Xia En had originally assumed that it wouldn’t take Tony very long to build the Mark 1 and escape.
No one knew the torment and despair Tony had endured during those three months.
He had initially gone to Afghanistan with great enthusiasm to demonstrate his company’s newly developed Jericho missile for the military.
That missile was the culmination of immense effort, possessing staggering power.
He had thought the demonstration would take Stark Industries’ influence to new heights.
He never expected disaster to strike so suddenly.
Just as the convoy left the military base and traveled across the desolate scrubland, they were ambushed by a large group of terrorists.
Gunfire and explosions erupted one after another as smoke filled the air.
Though Stark’s private security detail was well-trained, they were overwhelmed by the terrorists’ numbers and high-end equipment.
In just over ten minutes, the entire escort was wiped out.
No one survived.
Tony himself was wounded by a blast, with a spray of hot shrapnel embedding itself in his chest.
Blood stained his expensive suit as his consciousness faded, his life hanging by a thread.
The terrorists dragged him deep into the mountains to a remote, damp, and dark cave filled with dust and cobwebs.
It lacked even basic living conditions.
They held him at gunpoint, using both threats and bribes to force Tony to build powerful weapons for them.
Had he refused, they would have ended his life instantly.
Fortunately, there was another captive in the cave—a doctor named Ho Yinsen, a kind and highly skilled man.
Seeing Tony’s severe injuries, Yinsen couldn’t bear it and secretly used the crude equipment available in the cave to create the first miniature arc reactor for Tony.
It was this small, primitive reactor that successfully kept the shrapnel in his chest from migrating to his heart, saving his life.
Tony feigned compliance, agreeing to build weapons for the terrorists, while secretly plotting his escape with Yinsen.
Using materials provided by their captors, they secretly forged a crude but exceptionally sturdy suit of iron armor in a corner of the cave.
That suit, pieced together from rough metal plates, was clunky in appearance but contained immense power.
This was the Mark 1, the machine that would later shock the world and usher in the era of Iron Man.
They carefully polished the parts and calibrated the power systems, planning to use the suit to break through the cave’s confines, escape the terrorists’ clutches, and reclaim their freedom.
Unfortunately, fate had other plans.
At the final moment of their escape, their plan was discovered.
A swarm of terrorists descended, firing wildly.
To buy Tony enough time to power up the suit and escape, Yinsen did not hesitate to throw himself in front of Tony, shielding him from the hail of bullets.
The bullets pierced Yinsen’s chest, and blood sprayed out.
He collapsed into Tony’s arms, using his last breath to urge Tony to make his life count before closing his eyes forever.
Holding Yinsen’s cold body, Tony was filled with infinite guilt and rage.
He vowed to avenge his friend.
Then, he activated the Mark 1.
Relying on the suit’s devastating power, he tore through the blockade, cutting a path of destruction through the cave.
He trekked across the vast desert, enduring hunger, thirst, and the scorching sun.
The outcome was relatively successful; Tony had returned to America safely.
Xia En, however, had sensed the business opportunity the moment Tony went missing three months ago and had begun shorting Stark Industries stock.
During Tony’s disappearance, Stark Industries was leaderless and in a state of panic.
The stock price remained depressed with no sign of recovery, occasionally even dipping further.
When news of his rescue broke, everyone assumed the stock price would rebound or even skyrocket.
Unexpectedly, immediately upon his return, Tony held a press conference and announced that Stark Industries would completely cease its weapons manufacturing business and pivot toward clean energy.
As soon as the news broke, the stock market went into an uproar.
Instead of rebounding, Stark Industries stock plummeted, recording a record-setting crash.
“If I had enough capital back then, I really would have fleeced that fat cat until he was bald!”
Xia En stared at the balance on his phone screen, his finger sliding across the glass as he sighed to himself.
But on second thought, he shook his head with a playful smile.
“But this is enough.
If I fleeced him too hard, the difficulty of this ‘transmigration clear’ would be too low, and that’s no fun.”
“Fighting against the heavens, fighting against people, and fighting against this strange world—that is where the true joy lies.”
He stretched, working the stiffness out of his neck, a sharp glint of confidence flashing in his eyes.
“Now, time to go home.”
Xia En packed his things and handed the laboratory keys to the administrator, a clear plan already formed in his mind.
“With this money, I can start building the production base for nuclear batteries and implement my plans step by step.”
He walked out of the MIT gates, headed straight for the parking lot, and opened the door to his somewhat aged pickup truck.
He had bought it with his meager savings when he first arrived in this world.
Though it looked unremarkable, its performance was decent.
It had accompanied him through countless days and nights and witnessed his growth.
He started the engine.
The pickup emitted a low rumble as it slowly pulled onto the road leading toward his apartment in Brooklyn.
The scenery on both sides of the street retreated rapidly.
Pedestrians came and went, and traffic flowed like a river—a scene of prosperity that mirrored his busy yet fulfilling three months.
Stepping into his apartment, a familiar scent greeted him.
The apartment wasn’t large, but he kept it clean and organized.
A stack of research materials he hadn’t finished reading still sat on the living room table.
Xia En tossed his jacket onto the sofa and sat down at his computer, turning it on.
“Sigh, I really have a workaholic’s fate.
I just finished the lab work, and now I have to start on something new.”
He rubbed the bridge of his nose to relieve the exhaustion of the past few days and clicked on the browser.
“First, let’s see where in the U.S.
is suitable for building an underground base.
It needs good concealment and solid geological conditions.”