A stream of profound information suddenly surged through Chen Mo's mind—the mysterious space that had lain dormant for years was finally revealing its true nature.
It turned out that during the car accident years ago, when his latent potential had burst forth and his spiritual power had spiked beyond its natural limit, it had awakened a hidden ability.
And as it turned out, Chen Mo wasn't the first person in history to awaken a "special ability." Throughout the long river of time, there had always been a few individuals who, by sheer coincidence, triggered their own hidden powers. Though each of those abilities came with unique limitations, those people still left their marks upon history.
Zhuge Liang, opening the altar to summon the wind and rain; Xiang Yu, the conqueror who could lift a cauldron with his bare hands, unmatched in all under heaven—many so-called legends and myths were, in truth, fragments of human memory about such extraordinary powers.
"Clairvoyance," "super hearing," "invulnerability," "flight," "earth-burrowing"—these were not mere tales, but real abilities that had once existed.
Yet Chen Mo was different from them all. His gift was rarer, far more transcendent: he could travel through time and space, crossing into other worlds.
But this ability came with restrictions.
First, spatial traversal required immense spiritual energy, and only now had Chen Mo's mind reached the threshold necessary to truly activate it. Spiritual power could be increased in two ways: one, through the elevation of one's state of mind, which expanded mental capacity; and two, through a life-and-death awakening, where one's potential erupted, drastically enhancing both mind and body.
Second, after each traversal there would be a cooldown period of one month. Only after that could he cross again.
Those countless points of light outside his inner space were other possible worlds he could travel to—but for now, with his power still limited, only one of them was accessible. As his strength grew, the space would expand and stabilize, allowing him to reach more worlds.
Now, in the midst of catastrophe, that awakening brought Chen Mo a single ray of hope. Whatever lay beyond, he had no choice—he needed to escape this dying plane.
He focused his mind inside the space, locking onto the single glowing sphere among the stars. With one thought, he chose to traverse.
Light flared—then Chen Mo vanished from his seat.
In the next instant, the tumbling chaos of the aircraft gave way to solid ground beneath his feet. The sudden change made him stumble and fall.
Having just escaped death in a plane crash, Chen Mo quickly sprang up, scanning his surroundings.
He found himself standing in a narrow alley lined with old red-brick buildings—aged and weathered, exuding the nostalgic scent of a bygone America, like a scene straight out of an old movie.
No information had been given to him about this new world. Everything here, he would have to discover on his own.
While he was still orienting himself at the mouth of the alley, two Black thugs walking by spotted him. They exchanged glances, grinning as though they'd found an easy mark.
Chen Mo's clean clothes and Asian features stood out sharply among the locals—alone, unarmed, and clearly new to the area. To them, he was nothing more than a fat sheep waiting to be slaughtered.
The taller one pulled out a knife.
"Hey, boy! Don't move, or you'll regret it!"
The other grabbed Chen Mo's arm, shoving him toward the alley behind them.
"Seriously?" Chen Mo muttered inwardly. His first moments in this new world—and he was getting mugged. He glanced at the indifferent passersby pretending not to see and sighed, turning calmly to walk deeper into the alley.
"Smart choice!" one of the thugs snickered, following close behind. To them, all Asians were meek and easy prey.
Chen Mo stopped at a corner, glanced around, and nodded slightly. A dead end. No witnesses. Perfect.
Ten minutes later, Chen Mo walked out of the alley again.
Inside his storage space now sat a few dozen dollars in cash.
He felt stronger—the scuffle had apparently triggered another small boost. The two thugs were still unconscious in the alley, but he'd already learned enough.
This was Brooklyn, New York, and the date was December 1941—the height of World War II.
Europe was engulfed in flames, and only days ago Japan had attacked Pearl Harbor, forcing the United States into the war.
Chen Mo couldn't help but marvel at fate's irony. He had been flying to Los Angeles—but somehow ended up in New York, in another world, seventy years in the past.
After confirming his location and time, he found a modest hotel and paid for a room with the stolen cash.
Over the next few days, Chen Mo frequented libraries and bars, quietly gathering information about this world. His highly developed brain processed and analyzed data with incredible efficiency. In only a few days, he spoke English as fluently as a native.
One morning, leaving the hotel, he stopped by a newspaper stand as usual and bought a few papers.
The streets were plastered with recruitment posters. The newspapers were filled with war headlines. Patriotism burned high—young men were enlisting en masse to fight in Europe and the Pacific.
Everything looked exactly like the World War II era of his own Earth.
But there was a problem: Chen Mo couldn't stay here forever. According to the information imprinted in his mind, no matter how long he remained in another world, only a single instant would pass in his original timeline.
That meant that once he returned, he'd reappear inside the falling airplane—still moments away from death.
Even with his body now near the limits of human endurance, it wouldn't be enough to survive that crash.
He needed to become stronger—fast. From experience, Chen Mo knew that life-and-death battles were the quickest way to grow. With no better options, that meant joining the military… or finding an equally dangerous path—the underworld.
He was still weighing his choices, newspaper in hand, when his eyes suddenly froze on a familiar name printed across the page:
"America's Largest Arms Manufacturer, Stark Industries, Signs New Weapons Contract with the Military."
Chen Mo's heart skipped a beat.
There was no such company as Stark Industries in real-world World War II America.
Further research confirmed it—Stark Industries was founded by none other than Howard Stark, the legendary genius scientist.
With his near-photographic memory, Chen Mo recalled every detail from the movies he'd watched back in his original world. Connecting the date, the location, and the photo of Howard Stark in the newspaper, he was certain of it now:
He had crossed into the world of Captain America—and not just anywhere, but before the main story began.
Johann Schmidt—the Red Skull—hadn't yet obtained the Cosmic Cube, and Steve Rogers was still a scrawny young man dreaming of enlisting.
This world's power level wasn't particularly high. Even the strongest, Captain America, was merely a super-soldier—a body slightly superior to Chen Mo's current one. There were no gods, no world-ending monsters.
But there were resources.
Now, with his knowledge and opportunity, Chen Mo had options—many of them. As he replayed the movie's plot in his mind, a bold, almost insane idea began to form.
It was risky. But if it succeeded, the rewards would be unimaginable.
Fortune favored the bold.
He clenched his fists, eyes gleaming.
He would take the gamble.
There was no time to waste—preparation had to start immediately.
But first… he needed money.