For the next two days, Wei Heng became a ghost in the life of Gao Qiang. He didn't approach, he didn't interact; he simply observed. From the cold, analytical perspective of a ten-thousand-year-old cultivator, he watched the young man who, in another lifetime, would have become a legendary S-Rank Hunter known as "Titan," only to die a forgotten hero's death.
Gao Qiang was easy to find. His life was a grueling, predictable cycle of physical labor. Wei Heng watched from a distance as Gao Qiang hauled steel beams at a construction site under the blazing afternoon sun, his young muscles already corded and dense from years of hard work. He saw him later that evening, wearing an ill-fitting security guard uniform, patrolling the very warehouse district Wei Heng had visited, his face a mask of weary boredom. He even saw him during a brief lunch break, wolfing down a cheap box of noodles before hopping on a battered electric scooter to make a food delivery.
To anyone else, Gao Qiang was just another face in the struggling masses of Fuzhou. But Wei Heng saw more. He saw the raw, untapped potential simmering beneath the surface. With his Spiritual Sense, now slightly stronger after his initial purification, he could feel the immense physical energy dormant within Gao Qiang's body—a sleeping giant. It was unrefined, chaotic, but its sheer volume was staggering.
'A body naturally attuned to the earth element,' Wei Heng analyzed, his internal monologue as precise as a diagnostic report. 'No wonder his ability was pure physical enhancement. He never learned to properly channel it. He used brute force, like a man trying to stop a flood with a teacup. A tragic waste.'
But it was an event on the second day of his observation that solidified Gao Qiang's value beyond his raw power. Wei Heng was sitting at a small, open-air noodle stall across the street from the Fuzhou City Orphanage No. 3, a worn-down but clean building that was Gao Qiang's true home. It was late, and Gao Qiang had just finished his security shift. Despite his obvious exhaustion, he wasn't heading home to rest. Instead, he was using a wrench to fix a broken swing set in the orphanage's small playground.
A group of rowdy teenagers, reeking of cheap alcohol, swaggered past. One of them deliberately kicked over a trash can, scattering garbage near the orphanage gate.
"Hey! Pick that up," Gao Qiang called out, his voice low and tired, but firm.
The leader of the group, a lanky youth with bleached hair, sneered. "What's it to you, muscle-head? You the janitor here?"
Gao Qiang slowly put down his wrench and stood up. He wasn't much taller than them, but he was broader, denser. He looked like a boulder. "The kids live here. Don't make a mess for them to see in the morning. Pick it up."
The confrontation was brief and unimpressive. There was some shoving, some posturing from the teenagers. But Gao Qiang didn't flinch. He just stood there, an immovable object, his gaze unwavering. He didn't throw a punch. He didn't need to. Faced with his quiet, absolute resolve, the teenagers grumbled, kicked the can upright, and shuffled away, muttering curses.
Gao Qiang watched them go before sighing and picking up the remaining trash himself. He then went back to fixing the swing.
From across the street, Wei Heng nodded slowly. It wasn't the display of power that impressed him. It was the principle. The protective instinct. The quiet assumption of responsibility. That was the heart of a true guardian, a true Titan. That was a quality that couldn't be taught. It was the bedrock of loyalty.
'Yes,' Wei Heng confirmed in his mind. 'He will do.'
With his assessment complete, Wei Heng returned to his apartment. The first part of his plan was observation. The next was preparation. He still had time before the "First Outbreak" event.
He checked his anonymous crypto account. The 72-hour window for the "Crimson Wave" had closed. His initial 2,137 yuan had become 9,616.5 yuan. A respectable, but ultimately insignificant sum. Now, for the real leap.
He accessed the public stock market through a series of encrypted channels. Stardust Corporation, a small, obscure materials science company, was trading at a laughably low price. No one knew that in one week, they would announce a revolutionary breakthrough in composite materials derived from a recently discovered Gate resource. The stock would skyrocket, making early investors millionaires overnight.
Wei Heng didn't hesitate. He poured every single yuan he had into Stardust Corporation stock. It was a gamble that held zero risk for him. He was not predicting the future; he was merely remembering it.
With his financial seeds sown, he dedicated the following days to his own foundation. Each night, he would drink a small amount of the water from the Spring of Restoration, enduring the painful purification process as he circulated his Qi. His body was changing rapidly. He could now leap to the roof of his five-story apartment building from a standstill. His senses were so sharp he could hear conversations from a block away. He was still leagues away from the power he once wielded, but by the standards of this world, his progress was monstrous.
He also began to "attune" himself to the first of the 100,000 legacies. He didn't choose a grand warrior or a powerful mage. He chose something practical. He chose the legacy of a master assassin known as "Silent Shadow." He spent hours in meditation, not learning techniques, but absorbing the assassin's mindset: his principles of stealth, his understanding of presence, his ability to become one with the shadows. He didn't need to know how to kill. He needed to know how to be invisible.
A week passed in a blur of cultivation, financial maneuvering, and mental attunement. The day of Stardust Corporation's announcement arrived. As predicted, the news of their new composite material sent shockwaves through the industry. Their stock price didn't just climb; it exploded. By the end of the trading day, Wei Heng's initial investment of just over 9,000 yuan had ballooned into more than 7.2 million yuan.
He sold his shares instantly, transferring the massive sum into a web of offshore accounts and anonymous crypto wallets, leaving only a small, manageable amount in a normal bank account he created under a false identity. He was now a multi-millionaire. It had taken him less than two weeks.
But he felt no joy, no excitement. It was merely a step in a long, complex calculation. This money wasn't for luxury. It was for building an army. It was for buying resources, establishing a guild, and funding the war that only he knew was coming.
He checked the calendar. The date was October 12th. According to his memory, the Fuzhou "First Outbreak" event was scheduled for tomorrow night. A D-Rank Gate would rupture near the orphanage, unleashing a swarm of Abyssal Crawlers. It was the event that would kill Gao Qiang.
Wei Heng stood up and walked to his window, looking out at the unsuspecting city. His expression was calm, his eyes as deep and cold as the void between stars. He had the capital. He had a foundational level of strength. He had his target. All the pieces were in place.
'Tomorrow,' he thought, a silent vow echoing in the depths of his ancient soul, 'I will collect my Titan.'