Having traversed countless realms, can you possibly be as clever as me?

None of these methods are particularly clever, but unfortunately, at any time, the most powerful and unsolvable approach in the world is this kind of straightforward and aboveboard strategy.

"The Japanese authorities may retaliate, and there's also the University of Tokyo with an unclear stance," someone cautiously warned.

“We have already spoken with several old friends in Washington,” David Morgan said. “They are happy to see this happen. A foreign company that is too independent in key technologies is unacceptable pressure for Washington, and they will put enough pressure on Tokyo, which is normal behavior to ‘ensure the security of strategic technologies’.”

Jones licked his lips, his eyes gleaming with a predator's light, and added...

"All of this will be recorded as normal fluctuations in the free market, an unfortunate investment failure, and the realization of technological risks. VOX will fall victim to its own immaturity and market skepticism. As for us,"

He looked at the others in the room and said, “We are both astute risk-averse individuals and generous white knights. The public will even applaud us for saving a promising technology company.”

David Morgan raised his glass, the amber liquid reflecting the cold city lights outside the window, and smiled elegantly.

"Then, for the sake of our free market."

The other three cups silently moved closer together, and when they touched lightly, they made a crisp, cold sound.

"For the free market."

The meeting ended. The four men left, leaving only David Morgan in his office to deal with some backlogged tasks.

Just then, the internal phone rang. After answering it, David Morgan frowned.

"What? What did you say?"

"We suddenly have an account with 20 trillion in deposits? Are you drunk?!"

"Tell me after you've checked the technical issues!"

David Morgan hung up the phone in a foul tone, completely disregarding the matter.

In his view, it was nothing more than his incompetent subordinates messing things up technically—a 20 trillion dollar deposit account? This joke is not funny at all.

Even if you sold the current US government, it wouldn't be worth this price!

Ring ring ring ring!

Five minutes later, the phone rang again, and the answer from the other end made David Morgan frown.

"Can't they find any problems? And there are even transaction records for this account in the account history?"

What does a 10% hourly interest rate mean?

"Damn it! Is there a sabotage traitor in the company?! Find him! I'm going to turn him into a Christmas tree!!!"

This time, David Morgan's attitude was one of anger.

He could attribute such an error to a computer glitch causing a data overflow if it happened to an online account, but the fact that the internal notes account also had such a problem could only mean that there was an insider.

Catch him, and make him hate being alive!

Then, five minutes later, the phone rang urgently again, and this time, the news coming through the receiver sent a chill down David Morgan's spine.

"What?! What did you say?!"

He jumped to his feet, gripped the phone tightly, and roared into the other end.

"What do you mean? A third of the gold in our COMEX vaults has disappeared?!"

Hahahahahahahahahahahaha.

In a wasteland outside New York City, Tsurugi looked at the Franklin statue that almost covered the entire highway and laughed wildly and arrogantly.

"I never thought it would actually work! This thing is a real causal prop! Hahahaha!!!"

Yes, all this money in front of you is interest from a bank that's compounded.

The $10,000 invested in the four top banks in the United States, after several days of continuous compounding, has resulted in a massive asset totaling one hundred trillion dollars.

When Tsurugi got his hands on this item, he was very curious about whether the money generated by its interest was created out of thin air—this result was meaningful to him regardless of whether it was or not.

If the money generated by this item is truly created out of thin air, then for Tsurugi, it's a treasure trove that can infinitely refresh objects from nothing.

With a little use, it could even be more than enough to destroy the universe!

But that's clearly not the case; the deposit business of this prop follows the same logic as its lending business.

If you borrow money from a bank with compound interest and fail to repay on time, they will directly deduct money from your account. If you don't have enough money, they will unconditionally confiscate your assets to repay the debt—including but not limited to money you can earn in the future, your real estate, your investments, your land, and your clothes.

The ruthless exploitation of capitalist society will mercilessly take away your last hair.

Similarly, storage services operate on the same principle.

The bank where you deposit your money must pay you the amount generated at the moment you choose to withdraw it. If that's not enough, it will force you to auction off your belongings.

If you lose your money, you'll want gold; if you lose your gold, you'll want skyscrapers; if you lose your skyscrapers, you'll want your banks, your land, your mansions, your luxury cars, your...

Capital is ruthless to ordinary people, and it is just as ruthless to capitalists themselves.

Tsurugi hasn't tried pushing this to its limit before, but he'll give it a good try soon.

now--

He was prepared to be a "good Samaritan" without expecting anything in return.

"Hehehehehe, from ancient times to the present, has there ever been a kinder or more generous person in the world than me?"

Tsugumi chuckled softly with pleasure, then mobilized her powers to link all bank accounts in North America.

Then—he manipulated the compound interest bank and withdrew 40 trillion in assets in one go.

He distributed these four hundred trillion dollars equally to four hundred million ordinary Americans, $100,000 per person, and the money was deposited under the name—VOX.

Of course, there are also quite a few homeless people and children without accounts, so Tsugumi plans to physically 'distribute' the money that hasn't been sent out.

"Wow, this is a huge project."

Looking at the massive amount of money piled up in front of him, forming a mountain of US dollars, Tsurugi couldn't help but reveal an evil smile.

As for inflation and financial crises, he doesn't care.

He also didn't think that the civilians struggling on the brink of death had the energy to think about such issues.

And even if we take a step back and assume—that his actions truly drove these civilians into an even deeper abyss...

If they rise up in rebellion, Dongjiang will still be considered to have done a great service. If they continue to passively await death, then they might as well die with this country!

On the outskirts of Kansas City, that beige house was once the pride of Robert Keller's life. Twenty-three years ago, he bought it with the down payment he had saved for eight years working on the Ford assembly line, and went on to get married, have children, and mow the lawn every weekend.

Now, the front lawn is withered and bald, like an old dog with a skin disease. He has no heart to tend to it, because an accident even more serious than eviction has befallen their family.

The foreclosure notice has been posted on the door for seventeen days now. The corners of this hateful notice have been curled up by the wind, but it is still firmly stuck on.

Robert stared at the bill spread out on the table in the kitchen, his fingers unconsciously rubbing his temples.

The migraine started again, that familiar dull ache spreading from behind his right eye. But he wasn't taking painkillers anymore; he'd finished his last bottle of tramadol last month, and he'd used all his money to buy his daughter Lily an asthma inhaler.

“Daddy, Mommy is crying,” seven-year-old Lily said in an innocent yet worried voice, standing barefoot in the kitchen doorway, clutching her faded teddy bear. Her breathing carried a faint whistle that made Robert’s heart clench.

"Mommy is just tired, baby, go to sleep now."

Robert forced himself to sit up, his head throbbing, the plastic chair legs scraping against the tiled floor. He went into the bedroom, where his wife, Anna, lay on her side in bed, envelopes scattered on the floor beside her: medical bills, payment reminders, and ultimatums from the power company.

“St. Luke’s Hospital called again.” Anna didn’t turn around, her voice muffled by the pillow. “They said if I don’t have surgery soon, the infection might…”

“I know,” Robert interrupted her. He knew he was recalculating those numbers every single day.

Anna's knee replacement surgery will cost $6,000 out of pocket without health insurance; Lily's asthma specialist treatment costs $400 a month; her home insurance is three months overdue, with accumulated penalties of $1,700; her truck loan is two months late and will be towed away next week...

Each number was like a knife wound on his skin, and apart from roaring with his bare hands, he couldn't even find a target to vent his anger on.

Three months ago, he had just completed twenty-two years of service on the assembly line. The young regional manager called him into the office and handed him a voluntary resignation agreement.

Because the factory has moved to another country, there is no longer a need for workers like Robert. If he chooses to leave now, he can receive a severance package; if he doesn't, he will be reassigned to the worst, lowest-paid position until he leaves.

Robert had no choice. Having worked as a laborer his whole life, he didn't even know how to protect his legal rights. Besides, in the end, wouldn't the law still be based on the rights of these well-dressed scoundrels?

But disaster struck again. When he got home, he received news that his wife Anna had been hit by an out-of-control car and had her kneecap shattered. He had used all the compensation money he received to pay out the money, but he was still short six thousand.

Money disappears faster than you can imagine. It's like pouring water into a leaky bucket; you watch the water level drop little by little, but you can't find all the cracks.

Robert tried everything, even selling his blood until he couldn't sell any more. The 1.9-meter-tall strong man's skin had turned blue.

“We can move in with my mother.” Anna finally turned around, her eyes red and swollen. She said this three times, and each time her voice was emptier than the last.

Because her mother didn't live in the house, but in the trailer park, which, to put it bluntly, was a temporary shelter for RV dwellers who were very close to being homeless.

That place isn't considered a community, so there are no specific addresses, which means there are no mailing addresses, meaning that living there is not much different from being homeless.

After all, without a mailing address and proof of residence, you can't even find a formal job.

Robert didn't answer. He walked to the window and looked out at the backyard. The 1998 Ford F-150 sat on the grass, its driveshaft broken four months ago. He had planned to fix it and take on some moving jobs. But now he couldn't even afford the parts.

Robert's phone vibrated on the kitchen table. He walked back numbly, assuming it was a call from a debt collection bot. But the screen displayed a push notification from the bank:

[Account Alert] Your savings account (*4578) has received a deposit of $100,000.00. Payer: VOX.

It also included a short message: "A small gift offered free of charge. Wishing you a pleasant life, Mr. Robert Keller."

Robert stared at the screen for a full ten seconds. Then he laughed, a dry and annoyed laugh.

"The scams these days are getting more and more creative."

He cursed under his breath, refusing to believe such a windfall could happen, and prepared to delete the notification.

But for some inexplicable reason, he opened the mobile banking app.

The loading circle spun three times—their cheap internet service is always slow—and then the balance was refreshed.

$100,417.83

The last time this account had more than ten thousand dollars was fifteen years ago. Robert's fingers began to tremble. He logged out of the app and logged back in. He refreshed the page again.

$100,417.83

“Anna.” His voice was strange, as if it came from a very far place.

"I don't want to talk about the hospital anymore, Robert, I really..."

“It’s not a hospital.” He walked into the bedroom and handed her his phone. “Look.”

Anna sat up, squinting at the screen. Her glasses had broken last month, and she didn't have the money for new ones. She stared at it for a long time, so long that Robert thought she might not be seeing it at all, so he held the phone closer.

Then she suddenly covered her mouth and let out a suppressed, almost sobbing gasp.

"Is...is it true?" Tears welled up in her eyes again, but this time they were different—scalding hot, with an unbelievable temperature. "VOX? Who is that? Is he your relative or something?"

“How could my relatives be so rich? They couldn’t possibly lend us a huge sum of $100,000.”