Reborn in 1950: Shorting the Federal Reserve at the Start

In the dark alleys of New York Harbor, the stench of rotting fish and fermenting garbage mingled together, giving one a headache.

Shen Jinghong huddled in the shadows, clutching the bottle of mental energy enhancement liquid that emitted a faint blue light, and drank it all in one gulp.

The icy liquid slid down my throat into my stomach, like a lightning bolt that instantly pierced my central nervous system.

"hiss--"

The intense stinging pain caused Shen Jinghong to arch his back abruptly, cold sweat instantly soaking his shirt. Then, an unprecedented coolness rushed to the top of his head. His brain, which had been somewhat muddled due to his rebirth, now felt as clear as if it had been washed by a high-pressure water gun.

The dry and complicated aerodynamic formulas from his previous life, the experimental data that had become blurred due to the passage of time, and even the texts he had memorized in elementary school, were all vividly clear in his mind at this moment.

"Photographic memory... that's a bit too much of a cheat code."

Shen Jinghong rubbed his temples, a satisfied smile curving his lips. He stood up, straightened his collar, and once again displayed the refined elegance befitting a top intellectual.

Now, the hunt begins.

He walked out of the dark alley and headed straight for the No. 4 transit warehouse not far away.

That was a U.S. military logistics depot in New York Harbor. Although it wasn't a core munitions depot, it was filled with supplies that were about to be shipped to the Korean War. Two American soldiers stood at the entrance, chewing gum and carrying Garand rifles, looking rather nonchalant.

"Stop! What are you doing?"

The soldier on the left glanced at Shen Jinghong and casually raised his gun.

Shen Jinghong stopped, adjusted his gold-rimmed glasses, and spoke in impeccably perfect London English:

"Gentlemen, I am Dr. Shen Jinghong from MIT. I have been commissioned by the military to verify the data of the moisture-proof packaging that is about to be shipped to the Far East."

As he spoke, he calmly took out his doctoral certificate, which represented his identity, and handed it over casually.

In the United States in 1950, despite severe racial discrimination, these ordinary soldiers still had an instinctive awe for scholars from top universities, especially experts engaged in science and engineering research.

The soldier took the ID and glanced at it. The stamp on it couldn't be faked, and his attitude immediately changed. Although he was still a bit arrogant, he lowered his gun.

"Moisture-proof data? Does such a trivial matter require a PhD to personally come all the way here?"

"There's no other way. The soldiers on the front lines are bleeding, and scientific research cannot tolerate the slightest carelessness."

Shen Jinghong spoke with a serious expression and a convincing sense of patriotism: "If canned goods spoil due to packaging issues, it is a crime against taxpayers."

The two soldiers exchanged a glance and shrugged.

"Alright, Doctor. But you can only look around from the outside. The inside is a restricted area; no one can enter without Admiral Wilson's order."

"Of course, I just checked the outer packaging material at the door."

Shen Jinghong smiled and nodded, then strode over.

He didn't actually intend to go in.

The system's judgment rule is very simple: physical contact.

Reaching the warehouse's massive iron gate, Shen Jinghong pretended to examine the rust on the lock, then gently placed his right hand, hidden by his trench coat sleeve, on the cold iron door.

"System, get to work."

He silently recited it in his mind.

[Beep! A hostile faction transit warehouse has been detected.]

[Includes: 5000 cans of Spam luncheon meat, 20 Willys Jeeps, 800 packs of military blankets, 300 rubber tires...]

[Is this classified as unclaimed/hostile material? Should we collect it?]

Shen Jinghong's eyelid twitched.

Spam? That was the nightmare of American soldiers in World War II, but in today's China, it's a top-tier delicacy that's hard to come by even during the Lunar New Year! And those Jeeps and tires, in an era where even rubber is subject to a embargo, are practically gold!

"Is that even a question? Take it! Don't leave me even the cigarette butt from that gatekeeper!"

hum-

An invisible wave instantly spread from his palm.

There was no earth-shattering explosion, nor any dazzling light effects. The space inside the warehouse seemed to have been gripped tightly by an invisible giant hand, and time and space were strangely displaced in that instant.

Shen Jinghong felt a slight stinging sensation in her mind, like the fatigue she felt after staying up all night writing her thesis.

Just one second.

The warehouse, once piled high with goods, was instantly empty, not even a rat remained. Only several hundred square meters of bare concrete floor stood out, looking particularly desolate under the dim lights.

In Shen Jinghong's system space, neatly stacked small mountains of supplies were piled up.

Time stands still, everything is as fresh as ever.

"call……"

Shen Jinghong withdrew her hand, took out a handkerchief from her pocket, and elegantly wiped away non-existent dust from her hands.

The soldier at the door, seeing him turn around so quickly, called out in surprise:

"Hey, Doctor! You're done examining so quickly? Don't you need to open it up and take a look?"

Shen Jinghong stopped and turned around, a mysterious smile typical of academic authorities on his face.

"No need, I've already determined the material's density and moisture content by touch."

"So what's the conclusion? Will this shipment be safely delivered to the front lines?" the soldier asked curiously.

Shen Jinghong glanced back at the tin warehouse, which was intact on the outside but hollowed out inside, and smiled meaningfully.

He didn't know if the goods would reach the front lines, but he knew that the volunteers' New Year's Eve dinner was secured.

"The conclusion is terrible, gentlemen."

Shen Jinghong sighed, looking heartbroken. "Based on my professional judgment, the things inside... will probably never reach North Korea."

"Huh? Why?" The soldier looked completely bewildered.

Shen Jinghong didn't explain, but simply waved his hand, like a doctor who had just completed a perfect operation, and disappeared into the night with light steps.

Only after walking quite a distance and being certain that no one was following him did he slip into an empty alley to check his loot in the space.

Looking at the thousands of boxes of luncheon meat and dozens of jeeps, Shen Jinghong, who had just been excited, suddenly realized that something was amiss.

Too little.

This amount of food is not even enough to fill a tooth gap for a country with an army of several million.

Moreover, they were all logistical supplies, not any large equipment.

There were no airplanes, no cannons, and none of those tough things that would make the Chinese people stand tall.

"I still haven't broadened my perspective."

Shen Jinghong slapped his forehead in self-deprecation, "Using the legendary system and doing petty theft, this isn't a reborn person, it's like the leader of the Beggars' Sect entering the city."

He raised his head, his gaze passing through the layers of buildings, looking towards the most bustling area of ​​Manhattan.

There was a Lockheed plant there, the Federal Reserve's vault, and that top-secret laboratory where the Manhattan Project was underway.

Since we've already started, why not go all out?

Since I'm leaving in three days anyway, how can I do justice to this "study abroad" trip if I don't do something that will leave a lasting impression on the US?

Shen Jinghong took out a can of luncheon meat from her spatial storage, gently tapped it open with a "click," scooped out a large piece, stuffed it into her mouth, and mumbled indistinctly:

"This is barely enough to fill a tooth gap. Since we're breaking up, we should at least ask that 'rich ex' for something bigger, don't you think, System?"