13: Chapter 13 Capital Always Flows to the Dirtiest Places

Nine-thirty in the morning the next day.

The US stock market opened.

Chen Mo did not go to the police station; instead, he took sick leave and locked himself inside his small rented apartment.

The curtains were drawn tightly, and only the eerie light emitted from the computer screen illuminated his slightly pale face.

On the screen, the K-line chart for ABM gapped up the moment the market opened.

A straight green line, like a sharp sword, pierced through all the moving average resistance.

$2.1... $3.5... $4.8...

The numbers were jumping wildly.

"Up 120%..."

"Up 150%..."

Because of the five-times leverage, the net value of funds in Chen Mo's account was not just growing; it was exploding.

One hundred thousand in principal; doubling it meant two hundred thousand, and doubling it again...

Chen Mo lit a cigarette but forgot to smoke it. A long ash accumulated, and he didn't even notice when it fell onto the keyboard.

This was the power of capital.

He used to work himself to death in the morgue, having to endure others' attitudes just for a few hundred dollars in bonuses.

But in the financial market, as long as you hold an information advantage, you can just move your fingers and wealth will come flooding in like a tide.

This kind of pleasure was a hundred times more intense than nicotine, alcohol, or even sex.

This was the taste of power.

An hour later, the stock price hit a high of $7.2 and began to fluctuate and pull back as profit-taking orders from Wall Street began to sell off.

Chen Mo was not greedy.

He knew very well that the dead analyst's memories only covered the first wave of the surge after the news was released.

The subsequent trend was a battlefield for the big sharks; a small fry like him would be swallowed without even his bones left if he went in.

"Sell everything."

Chen Mo's finger trembled slightly as he pressed the Enter key, but his movements were decisive.

The trade was successfully executed.

After deducting the high leverage interest, transaction fees, and the cut for that fat middleman, the account balance finally settled on a number: $682,400.

Six hundred and eighty-two thousand dollars.

Chen Mo leaned back in his chair and exhaled a long ring of smoke. Amidst the swirling mist, he looked at the water stains on the ceiling and suddenly laughed out loud.

From a penniless illegal immigrant to a middle-class man sitting on $682,000, it had only taken him one week.

Of course, there were also two corpses.

[Ding!]

[Detected a qualitative leap in host assets; achievement "First Pot of Gold" unlocked.]

[Obtained 500 experience points.]

[System upgrading...]

[Congratulations! Everything Entry System upgraded to Lv2.]

[Lv2 Privileges Unlocked:]

1. Mental power limit increased to 30 points.

2. Identity entry equipment slot +1. (You can now equip two identity entries simultaneously, switch seamlessly between them in different situations, or stack their passive abilities.)

Chen Mo sat up straight abruptly, a sharp glint flashing in his eyes.

Dual identities!

This meant that while having the official protective umbrella of [Police], he could equip another identity.

For example... a hitman? A lawyer? Or some other powerful profession he hadn't encountered yet.

This was the true qualitative change.

However, the primary problem now was how to withdraw this money.

$682,400; if he transferred it directly into his salary card, the IRS and the FBI would kick down his door together tomorrow.

Chen Mo thought of the deceased analyst, Arthur.

In his chaotic memory fragments, besides stock codes, there were also some "common sense" regarding how the rich avoid taxes and launder money.

"Antiques, artwork." Chen Mo muttered to himself.

He quickly operated his computer and registered a shell investment company located in the Cayman Islands.

Then, he used the dark web to contact a middleman who specialized in the "antiquing" business.

The plan was simple: he would spend a few hundred dollars at a flea market in the US to buy a few broken vases that looked a bit old, and then list them through an auction house.

His offshore company overseas would, in the name of having a "discerning eye," buy these "Qing Dynasty porcelains lost overseas" at a high price.

Moving money from his left hand to his right.

After deducting the "protection fees" for the auction house and the tax bureau, the remaining money would be clean "investment income" and "windfall."

Although he would lose about 20% of the funds, the money was well spent.

After handling all of this, Chen Mo stood up and pulled back the curtains.

The dazzling sunlight shone into the dim room, and dust danced in the beams of light.

He looked at the dilapidated streets of Brooklyn outside the window and the skyscrapers of Manhattan towering into the clouds in the distance, and his gaze changed.

Before, he was a rat crawling in the gutter, only able to look up at that city.

Now, he had teeth, claws, and his first piece of cheese that belonged to him.

"Murphy..."

Chen Mo whispered the name, a cruel arc curling at the corner of his mouth.

"You've had a lot of fun these past few days, right? Now, I have the capital to play with you properly."