295: Chapter 298: A Look Back on a Life, From Heavily Indebted to the Lord of the Universe

Outside the window, the nebulae of the Milky Way Galaxy were like brilliant fireworks, constantly blooming and fading in the endless darkness.

Jiang Chen held a glass of red wine that had already gone cold, his fingertips gently stroking the icy crystal rim. He did not look at the breathtaking interstellar spectacles outside the window, nor did he pay attention to the representatives of alien civilizations waiting for his orders; his gaze was focused on an old, dusty photograph in the corner of the study.

It was a Polaroid photograph, its edges already yellowed.

In the photo, he still looked delicate and thin, wearing a worn-out hoodie, standing in that drafty rented room in Tianhai City.

At that time, his eyes were filled with despair for life.

Five hundred thousand in debt, living in an illegal structure where the landlord could kick him out at any moment, his mother lying in the ICU, and his younger sister being bullied at school.

That was the memory he wanted to forget the most, yet it was also the most profound period of his life.

"Old Zhao," Jiang Chen spoke suddenly, his voice somewhat hoarse.

Zhao Gang was standing at the door, carrying a freshly made midnight snack. He followed Jiang Chen's gaze to the photograph, and his whole body froze, his expression becoming complex in a way it had never been before.

"I'm here," Zhao Gang replied softly.

"Do you remember when we first met?" Jiang Chen swirled the red wine in his glass and gave a self-deprecating smile. "Back then, you weren't some company commander; you were just a newly discharged soldier, a rogue, selling grilled sausages on the street."

"I only had two yuan left in my pocket, and I hesitated for a long time before I dared to buy half a sausage."

Zhao Gang fell into memories, his eyes revealing a hint of nostalgia: "We were indeed dirt poor back then. But I remember the way you looked at me; it was like looking at a brother."

"Bullshit."

Jiang Chen chuckled. "Back then, I looked at everyone like a brother because we were all poor, all living under a sky that could collapse at any moment."

He put down his wine glass, stood up, and walked to the photo, his fingertips gently brushing over his former self.

"Who could have imagined it?"

"That poor student forced into a dead end by loan sharks."

"That nobody worrying about a few hundred yuan in medical expenses."

"Today, I can dismantle even a star just by saying the word."

There was no trace of showing off in Jiang Chen's voice; instead, it carried a profound sense of exhaustion. "From being debt-ridden to Master of the Universe, how long did it take me? At most, not even a year, right?"

"These three months feel longer than a lifetime for others."

"It's not just the time; it's that... leap in the dimension of thinking."

He turned his head and looked at the brilliant sea of stars outside the window.

He once thought that owning a BMW 5 Series was the pinnacle of life, and that if he could win the lottery, he wouldn't have to worry for the rest of his life. Now, with a wave of his hand, he could conjure tens of billions of tons of gold, and he could even casually erase the logic chain of a civilization. That disdain for wealth and indifference to status had become a part of his life.

"Boss, what are you trying to say?" Zhao Gang asked uneasily.

Jiang Chen smiled.

He looked at the dense starlight outside the window—those were galaxies waiting for him to explore, to harvest, to "renovate."

"I'm just wondering."

"What is a person's life actually for?"

He didn't wait for Zhao Gang to answer, but continued to himself:

"For money? No, money to me is already some kind of physical constant; it has no meaning."

"For power? That's not right either; I can't even remember the names of those alien civilizations, and their submission doesn't even compare to that sincere 'Mr. Jiang' from the security guard in our neighborhood."

"Then what am I struggling for?"

Jiang Chen looked at the thin, weak version of himself in the photo and suddenly fell into a long silence.

That sense of emptiness washed over him like a tide.

The thrill of conquest was fleeting.

The embers after the slaughter cooled quickly.

When a person stands at the pinnacle of the universe, when you possess god-like power, you find that the only thing you truly miss is that most humble starting point.

"If it were back then..."

Jiang Chen whispered, "that Jiang Chen who went gray with worry over five hundred thousand."

"If he knew that in the future he could light up Jupiter like a lightbulb, buy a house on the moon, and even date an Empress, what would he think?"

"He would think I'm a madman, right?"

Jiang Chen smiled and shook his head, the corners of his eyes slightly moist.

That was a farewell to the past.

It was also an affirmation of the present.

"Zhao Gang, do you know what I miss the most?"

Jiang Chen turned his head and looked at Zhao Gang with clear eyes.

Zhao Gang scratched his head and answered honestly: "Is it the poverty back then? Or the simplicity of that time?"

"It's that steamed bun."

Jiang Chen took a deep breath, his gaze becoming distant, as if passing through an interstellar portal, returning to that cold night in the Wasteland.

He looked at the piles of priceless interstellar treasures scattered on the table but seemed to ignore them.

All he could think about was the silver-haired girl in the screen, shivering, who worshipped the ground he walked on just because of a mouthful of white rice.

That absolute trust.

That unreserved reliance.

That sensation which made him—a cold-blooded businessman who had seen all the scheming in modern society and all the profit-swapping in the business world—feel for the first time that his heart was still beating: warmth.

"That was my first pot of gold."

Jiang Chen turned and walked into the shadows of the study. "It wasn't bought with money."

"It was exchanged for a steamed bun."

"And from that moment on, I knew that although this universe is cold, although it is a dark forest."

"As long as you are willing to feed it, it will also... open its arms to you."

Zhao Gang stood there, listening, stunned.

Although he didn't understand what dimensions were, or what the Law of Causality was.

But he understood.

This god-like man had actually never changed.

He was still the same Jiang Chen who valued emotions the most.

Even if he ruled the Milky Way Galaxy, even if he was revered as the Father God.

Deep in his heart, there still hid that pure boy who felt satisfied because of half a steamed bun.

"Boss, get some rest early."

Zhao Gang put down the midnight snack and tactfully retreated. "No matter how much those aliens outside make a fuss, I will guard this base for you."

The door closed.

Silence returned to the study.

Jiang Chen lay on the leather chair, closed his eyes, and his fingers slid lightly across the phone screen.

He didn't open those tempting account balances.

Nor did he pay attention to the pile of mineral agreements that were still growing crazily.

He opened that most basic game interface, without any flashy special effects.

In the interface.

The Wasteland, a world always filled with war and blood, actually looked exceptionally peaceful at this moment.

He looked at the standing portrait of the silver-haired Empress, who was standing in the center of the ruins, tidying his tie.

Feeling the longing transmitted through the data stream from the other side of the screen, a longing that was still burning hot across millions of light-years.

Jiang Chen's mouth finally revealed a smile of complete relaxation.

"You're such a fool."

He whispered a scolding at the screen, his tone full of doting, "Is it really worth risking your life for this trivial matter?"

On the other side of the screen.

Jiang Wanqiu seemed to sense Jiang Chen's thoughts.

She put down the combat blade in her hand and slowly typed a few words into that simple yet sincere text input box.

The font was very small.

It even had a slight spelling error, but it was filled with that—humility and deep affection—which Jiang Chen could not refuse no matter what.

"Father God."

"You haven't returned yet, and the 'God Meat' (canned pork) in the warship is almost gone."

"When will you..."

"Take Wanqiu home?"

Jiang Chen looked at this line of text, a flash of crazy fighting spirit in his eyes.

He stood up and strode to the window.

Outside the window, countless navigation lights belonging to the Galactic Federation lit up like stars, illuminating the path forward for him.

"Soon."

Jiang Chen said to the void, his voice ringing with conviction.

"Once I finish dealing with this wave of alien flies."

"I will take you."

"Home."

Jiang Chen turned off the communication.

He clenched his fists in the darkness.

This universe is vast.

This world is cruel.

But as long as there is such a silly girl waiting, as long as there is a place called "home" calling out.

Then he, Jiang Chen, will never stop his steps.

He wants to become a god.

He wants to become the... Truth of the Universe that ends all chaos.

And the starting point of all this.

It was nothing more than a steamed bun, an absurd journey.

Jiang Chen smiled.

He no longer hesitated, turned around, and strode toward the core hub of the command center.

All galaxies were trembling.

All gods were in fear.

Because they knew that man, the madman named Jiang Chen, was finally going to make his move on this universe.

And this time.

No one.

Could stop him.

"System, start the next volume."

"Target: Wasteland Plane · Complete takeover."

With this whisper, the luan bird started again, crossing the final plane barrier.

The end of the story.

It was already within reach.