Reborn in 1950: Shorting the Federal Reserve at the Start

The night was as thick as ink that couldn't be dissolved, and the cool breeze along the Hudson River made people's clothes flutter.

Shen Jinghong held the New York map he'd swiped from the gas station in his hand, and under the dim streetlights, he drew circles on it with a red pen he'd somehow acquired. He hummed a strange tune that no one in that era would have heard before—a light, upbeat tune with an indescribable air of wickedness.

"Happy breakup, I wish you happiness, you can find someone better..."

As he hummed, he drew a heavy cross on the "Standard Oil Reserve" mark on the map.

Looking at the bright red mark, Shen Jinghong flicked the paper with satisfaction and muttered to himself, "Since we're leaving, we should leave with dignity. Even though we're not legally married, I've been your slave for so many years. The compensation for my lost youth, my emotional distress, and that so-called residual value—we need to calculate that clearly, right?"

The system's cold notification sound rang in his mind at just the right moment, carrying a strange, ironic tone:

[Host, according to calculations, the value of the supplies you just received is only three ten-thousandths of the US military's daily logistical expenditure. Isn't this "breakup fee" a bit too meager?]

"Don't rush things, you can't eat hot tofu in a hurry."

Shen Jinghong folded the map and stuffed it into his pocket, his eyes behind his gold-rimmed glasses gleaming with a hunter's light. "We just finished the appetizer, and here comes the main course. That's... A&P's largest warehouse center, isn't it?"

Twenty minutes later, in the suburbs of Manhattan.

The huge warehouse supermarket was brightly lit at the moment, and several night shift movers were leaning against the unloading platform smoking and chatting, completely unaware that a dark figure had slipped into the side door like a ghost.

Standing in front of those towering shelves, looking at the dazzling array of goods, Shen Jinghong almost couldn't hold back her tears.

The United States in this era was so materially abundant that it inspired envy.

The shelves were piled high with chocolate, milk powder, nylon stockings, and even boxes of penicillin pills and the latest transistor radios. Meanwhile, on the other side of the ocean, many of their compatriots were starving, and soldiers were forced to eat frozen potatoes in the freezing cold.

"The rich feast while the poor feast..."

Shen Jinghong sighed, then his expression turned ferocious and fanatical, and he suddenly opened his arms like a greedy tyrant embracing the world.

"But now it's all mine! The children in China are short of milk powder, so here you go!"

He swept through the aisle like a whirlwind.

Wherever your fingertips glide, the goods on the shelves, along with the shelves themselves, vanish without a trace, like a pencil drawing erased by an eraser.

[Ding! 500 cases of Nestlé infant formula received!]

[Ding! 1200 boxes of Hershey's chocolates collected!]

[Ding! Antibiotics collected...]

Shen Jinghong ran and collected the goods, muttering to herself as she went, looking just like a middle-aged woman buying produce at a market.

"This chocolate is good, high in calories, perfect for replenishing the energy of the soldiers on the front lines. Oh, and there are stockings too? Take them! We can alter them for the girls in the cultural troupe to use as mosquito nets. What's this? Marlboro cigarettes? Never mind, that stuff's bad for your lungs… But this lighter is nice, take it!"

In just ten minutes, he moved the warehouse, which was originally full of several thousand square meters, to a place that was even cleaner than when it was just renovated, leaving not even a mousetrap on the ground.

Less than two minutes after he had scurried away through the back door with a satisfied air, the mover's heart-wrenching scream came from the front door:

"My God! What the hell! This place was just full a moment ago! Where's my forklift? I just put such a big forklift here, where did it go?!"

The sound of sirens quickly pierced the night sky.

At first it was one car, then two, three… The entire New York Police Department was thrown into chaos, like a hornet's nest had been stirred up.

Shen Jinghong stood on a high ground two kilometers away, looking at the flashing red and blue police lights in the distance and listening to the shrill siren, as if she were listening to a beautiful symphony.

But he didn't stop.

Because his next target was the place he had circled three times in red on the map—Standard Oil's oil depot.

For a country undergoing industrialization, oil is like its lifeblood. And right now, China is precisely the country most in need of this lifeblood.

"Oh, America, you're rich, you shouldn't mind helping your ex out when he was dirt poor, right?"

Shen Jinghong stood beneath the enormous white oil tank, looking as small as an ant. Yet his outstretched hand seemed to possess the power to devour the heavens and earth.

The walls of the massive oil tanks were icy cold, and they contained thousands of tons of aviation fuel.

"Get up!"

With a low shout, the giant oil tank, tens of meters high, along with the fuel inside and even the concrete base beneath it, evaporated into thin air in an instant.

All that remained on the ground was a huge, bottomless crater, with the broken oil pipeline gushing out black residual oil, hissing as if weeping for its lost body.

One, two, three...

As the fifth oil tank disappeared, the searchlights in the distance finally swept over.

"There it is! Damn it! Someone is sabotaging the oil depot!"

"Fire! Fire now!"

Bang bang bang!

Several gunshots broke the silence, bullets hitting the mud at his feet and kicking up a cloud of dust.

Shen Jinghong glanced back at the security guards rushing towards them. Far from panicking, she waved gracefully and shouted loudly in perfect English:

"Don't bother delivering! I've already deducted the gas cost from your boss's tax evasion! Goodbye!"

After saying that, he flashed away, using the darkness and the system space as cover, and instantly disappeared into the intricate maze of pipes, leaving a group of security guards staring at the empty pit, questioning their existence.

Half an hour later.

Shen Jinghong stopped, panting, outside a barbed wire fence.

The continuous high-intensity moving had exhausted his mental energy, and his mind felt like a jumbled mess, but the excitement in his eyes grew stronger and stronger.

This is a forbidden area in the suburbs of New York.

High-voltage power lines stretched along the towering walls, with a sentry post every fifty meters, and several high-powered searchlights illuminating the inside as if it were daytime.

On the huge sign at the entrance, there is a shining star and a line of eye-catching English text:

LOCKHEED.

This is the main course for tonight.

The milk powder and petroleum we just mentioned were merely New Year's goods to improve our family's living conditions. But the stuff here is what truly allows China to stand tall and argue with others.

Shen Jinghong lay prone in the grass, peering through the gaps in the barbed wire fence at the fighter jets undergoing nighttime testing on the tarmac.

The streamlined fuselage gleamed with a cold metallic sheen under the searchlights, and the air intakes under the wings resembled gaping maws ready to devour their prey.

F-80 "Meteor".

The first generation of jet fighters of the US military were also the aerial killers that would soon cause great trouble for the Chinese People's Volunteer Army Air Force on the Korean battlefield.

"So this is what they call air superiority...?"

Shen Jinghong licked his slightly chapped lips, his eyes gradually becoming deep and unfathomable, like a hungry wolf staring at the throat of an antelope.

He had seen countless photos of this kind of aircraft in his previous life's records, and he had also read countless reports of the tragic battles in which volunteer pilots flew the inferior MiG-15s and fought against them with their lives.

Back then, we didn't have good planes, so we had to risk our lives to fill the gaps.

But now, things are different.

"System, do you think if I bring this thing back, our fledgling aviation industry could take off right away?"

[Answer to host: Not only can it take off, but it can also cause the US Air Force to have a stroke on the spot. Although the F-80 is an early jet aircraft, its hydraulic system and engine technology still have extremely high analytical value.]

"Then stop talking nonsense."

Shen Jinghong pulled out a pair of pliers he had just swiped from his spatial storage, held them up to the electrified wire mesh in front of him, and a cruel smile curled at the corner of his mouth.

"I heard this thing flies really fast? Let me see if it flies faster in the sky or gets into my pocket faster."

He swiftly cut the barbed wire and slipped inside like a night owl.

"Mr. Eagle, this farewell gift is too expensive, I'm a little embarrassed... but in order to teach you a lesson, I'll reluctantly accept it."