Orin sat at his desk, staring at the glow of his laptop screen, but his mind was far away—still caught in the image of that glowing scroll, and the cruel simplicity of the truth it revealed:
> No resources, no cultivation.
The path to martial power required more than will—it needed money. A lot of it.
But he wasn't willing to steal or scam for it. That was a line he wouldn't cross.
> "I need a real way to earn. Something sustainable. Scalable."
He grabbed a notebook and began to brainstorm.
---
The first idea was the obvious one—copy something that worked on Earth. Big social media platforms, search engines, or even basic communication apps.
But that dream shattered quickly.
This world was already deep into its own digital evolution.
> NetZone for search.
FaceMatch for social networking.
InstaPic and ChatDrop—already wildly popular.
Even online payments were covered by YuanPay and QuickCart.
He might be a transmigrator, but this world wasn't behind. If anything, it was a parallel Earth with different names and equally fast development.
So what could he bring that this world didn't already have?
---
For hours, he wrote and crossed out ideas.
Import goods? Too complicated.
Freelance coding? Too slow.
Stock trading? He didn't know this world's economy well enough.
> "Think simple… something that can grow fast. Something scalable…"
Then it hit him.
Games.
More specifically—mobile games.
---
He opened the NetZone search engine and began browsing the top games in the current market.
Most were either overly simplistic, text-based, or poorly designed puzzles.
The era of mobile games was clearly just starting.
There were no true mobile hits yet—no battle arenas, no story-rich RPGs, no addictive idle clickers with layered monetization.
And Orin?
He had learned coding during his school years—in this life—as part of his goal to become the world's greatest scientist. He'd understood early that modern scientists needed to program the machines and models they created. Robotics, AI, simulation—all of it needed code.
So he studied. He built small games for fun during breaks. He even uploaded a couple to school forums.
> "This is it. My window."
He could build a game. A good one.
And if he launched it before the market exploded, he could ride the wave straight to millions.
---
That night, Orin opened a blank project on his laptop. His fingers hovered over the keyboard.
His goals had shifted.
> A month ago, he had dreamed of building inventions, decoding the universe, and maybe even earning an S-rank reward from the Heavenly Dao through scientific contribution.
But now?
> The only thing he wanted was strength.
Power.
A way to stand atop this hidden martial world.
And he had an advantage no one else could match:
> A talent that made him untouchable.
A head start in a gold rush.
And the desperation to climb higher, faster, no matter what.
Orin smiled faintly as he typed the first line of code.
> "If I can't find a path," he muttered, "I'll build one."
The screen bathed his face in a pale glow as lines of code piled higher by the hour.
Character movement. Combat effects. Touch input.
Orin was deep in it—flesh and blood dissolving into logic and loops.
The plan was simple: make a mobile game. Make it addictive. Make it profitable. Then, use the money to buy the rare herbs and materials he needed to begin cultivating the martial technique hidden in that Sanskrit scroll.
> "This world already has all the tools I need," he muttered. "I just have to move faster than anyone else."
And so, his routine changed completely.
---
At first, he tried to juggle both lives—attending lectures during the day, developing his game at night.
But coding required hours. Focus. Flow.
Classes became optional.
He began skipping more often, especially the ones he deemed useless to his new goal. Attendance warnings piled up, but he didn't care. His professors were baffled—he used to sit in the front row, always scribbling formulas and building project ideas.
Now, he was barely seen.
---
He also developed a second habit—night walks.
Every few days, after a long coding session, Orin would throw on a hoodie and quietly slip out into the city streets.
His hope? To witness another hidden martial artist fight—something, anything to prove it wasn't a one-time miracle.
He wandered through alleys, rooftops, and abandoned lots. Places where fights could happen unnoticed.
> But luck was a cruel mistress.
He found nothing.
No footsteps above. No shadows darting across rooftops. Just the quiet hum of streetlights and the occasional drunk shouting at the wind.
Still, he didn't give up. The scroll proved the martial world was real. Hidden. Alive.
> "One day… I'll see it again."
---
Meanwhile, his game began to take shape.
He worked with such intensity that his body ached, sleeping only a few hours at a time. Coffee became his blood.
And though his coding was solid, he lacked art assets. His character sprites, backgrounds, and UI elements needed a professional touch.
> So, he made another sacrifice.
He emptied all his savings—money meant for books, dorm upgrades, even food—and commissioned freelance artists online to bring his vision to life.
Character designs. Menu layouts. Skill icons. Music.
Every cent went into the project.
---
His bank account now showed less than ten yuan.
His grades were collapsing.
And his nights were spent in alleyways searching for ghosts.
But Orin felt more alive than ever.
> "If this works," he whispered as he rendered a main menu screen, "it's my first step toward cultivation. Toward standing at the peak."
The pixelated character on his screen struck a pose.
And Orin smiled.
> "Let's change the world."