Chapter One: The Desert Rally

In the deep of night, the desert’s temperature dropped to bone-chilling lows. Yet Mo Shu would rather wrap himself in two layers of army coats and a cotton quilt to shiver outside, than return to the caravan at his back and endure the brash boasting within.

He looked refined, with delicate features and short, neat hair that gave off a pleasant, clean impression. Still, a trace of worry lingered between his brows. Not long out of college, he’d found no job, nor had he asked his family for money. With four years in film and cinematography behind him, he naturally started picking up odd filming gigs, which, in its own way, marked the start of a difficult journey into freelancing.

The desert surrounding him was in the far north of China, called “Hamidule”—in the local tongue, “the Land of Suffering.” Yet for Mo Shu, this trip was more than aptly named: a “journey through hardship.”

As a photographer, he’d come at a friend’s introduction, tagging along with a group of extravagant off-road enthusiasts to take part in the “Hamidule Hero Rally.” He’d imagined a simple assignment, a chance to earn some living expenses, and would have been content with that. He hadn’t expected, though, that some of the wealthy drivers would be so impossible to deal with. Hoping only to do his job well, Mo Shu was often forced into the role of errand boy.

Refueling from barrels, digging out stuck vehicles—even serving tea and water—he was ordered about relentlessly. The older ones chided him that young people shouldn’t fear hardship. Those his own age couldn’t stop flaunting their wealth and prowess. Ultimately, they were exploiting his obvious need for money, using their financial power to press him down. Were it not for concern over offending his friend, Mo Shu would have walked away long ago.

“Mo, what are you spacing out for? Bring some beef in here!”

The speaker was Li Xun, a sharp-featured, brash young man sporting blond hair—a notorious “princeling” even in their hometown. Though he was actually younger than Mo Shu by a few years, he shamelessly called him “Mo,” a familiarity that grated on the nerves.

There was little point reasoning with someone so oblivious; Mo Shu couldn’t be bothered. He ambled over to the support truck, hauled out two hefty bags of beef, tossed them in front of Li Xun, and returned to his own quiet enjoyment of the star-filled sky.

Beneath the glittering river of stars, his stifled mood eased somewhat. As the saying goes, “Money is hard to earn and hardship is bitter to swallow.” For the fifty-thousand yuan fee he’d get for this gig—and for his lifelong passion for motorsports—not to mention his unwillingness to embarrass his friend, Mo Shu resolved to endure a little longer.

Nearby, a dozen luxury off-road vehicles lined up in a row, each worth millions. The sight filled Mo Shu with a surge of motivation, and he muttered to himself, “One day, I’ll have one of my own.”

Boom—

A deafening explosion snapped Mo Shu out of his reverie. Suddenly, the night sky blazed as bright as noon. He turned toward the sound.

My god—a meteor was plummeting from the heavens. Such a rare spectacle was not to be missed by a photographer, and Mo Shu frantically grabbed his camera, the shutter snapping furiously.

Wait—something was wrong. The meteor was hurtling straight toward their camp. Death seemed imminent.

“Damn it!” Mo Shu forgot the cold, flung off his coats and quilt, and leaped into a vehicle. As he started the engine and blared the horn to alert the others, he realized in horror that the meteor was almost upon them. His face drained of color. “It’s over,” he whispered.

Crash—

A cloud of sand and dust swallowed the world.

“Mo, what are you spacing out for?...”

Even in death, Li Xun’s harassment was inescapable. Mo Shu broke out in a cold sweat—some ghosts just wouldn’t let go.

“Mo? Damn, this guy’s lost his mind!” To Li Xun, Mo Shu looked as if he’d been frozen in place.

But in Mo Shu’s mind, a clear and gentle female voice chimed in.

“Host matched. System initializing. Initialization successful...”

Mo Shu was bewildered. The camp should have been obliterated by the meteor, and none could have survived. Was this the voice of an angel, or some deity?

The voice continued, “This system has wandered with the meteor for millennia, never finding a suitable host. Today, our meeting brings fulfillment to us both: once matched, together for life.”

Before the words had faded, a wave of pain shot through every nerve in Mo Shu’s body.

“Host, there’s no need to worry. The pain is from the system’s self-check. It will now customize its settings according to your ideals and interests. Also, in the previous world, you were struck by the meteor and lost all vital activity—essentially, you died. This is a parallel world where you have been reborn. The world’s broad strokes are the same, but the details are for you to discover.”

So that’s it—rebirth. Mo Shu, a fan of web novels in college, suddenly saw the familiar pattern. What had seemed uncertain now filled him with anticipation. What sort of experience would this system bring?

As expected, the pain quickly faded, and a line of text popped into his mind:

“Supreme Auto Circuit System!”

Beneath it, a golden button gleamed, with small text reading: “Click to claim newbie gift pack.”

Mo Shu found he could control the cursor in his mind with mere thought, and he clicked the golden button without hesitation.

A jet of flame shot past, and the system’s main interface unfolded before him. There were many options, but all were grayed out except for “Beginner’s Guide.”

“Congratulations, Host. You have received the newbie gift pack: the skills ‘Auto Repair’ and ‘Endurance Sprint’ have been activated. Please enjoy.”

So, basically, car repair and driving. Mo Shu couldn’t help but pout—he’d hoped for something miraculous, like a car with a mind of its own, or one that could turn invisible, fly, and make him invincible overnight.

“Host, I know what you’re thinking. Your pout is a grave insult. Instant success without effort—do you think that’s possible? Is it realistic? Plenty of people want leadership treatment at their first job, demand their parents buy them cars and watches though they haven’t earned a penny, or expect their writing to be published after a few words. There are too many like that—I didn’t expect you to be one of them... sob.”

“Uh, System, are you... crying? That’s not what I meant. I’m just a bit impatient. Forgive me, will you?”

“Host, I was going to let you experience the system’s highest realm, but as punishment, that opportunity is now canceled.” The system’s tone turned cold and rational once more.

“Come on, don’t be so serious! It was just a passing thought!”

No matter how Mo Shu explained, apologized, even tried to flatter, the system remained silent, as if it had all been his imagination.

Just as he was feeling dejected, a cheerful notification sprang to life in his mind.

“Newbie mission: Use your activated skills to achieve a victory.

Reward for completion: New skill—Mechanical Insight.

Current Host Level: 1.”

Mo Shu’s hopes rekindled, and he called out to the system, but only silence answered.

“Mo, are you stupid or what?” Li Xun was still shouting.

“You brat, I’m older than you, yet you keep calling me ‘Mo’ this and ‘Mo’ that. Didn’t your parents teach you manners? If you want beef, get it yourself!”

Li Xun had no idea Mo Shu was still stewing over having offended the system. Having rarely been rebuffed, Li Xun was momentarily speechless. Only when Mo Shu slammed the caravan door behind him did Li Xun snap back to reality, cursing, “Who does that lackey think he is?”

But shouting at the empty RV felt foolish, and Li Xun stalked off, muttering, “How did he even know I wanted him to get beef?”

Back in the caravan, Mo Shu lay on his bed, deep in thought. How powerful was this system, really? It seemed he’d have to try a race to find out. As he pondered, sleep overtook him.

...

The next day, with the second leg of the race about to begin and the sun still below the horizon, Mo Shu was jolted awake by a commotion outside.

Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, he stepped out to find a luxury vehicle lopsided in the middle of camp, its front left end nearly scraping the ground. The owner circled it, red-faced and frantic, while his support crew looked utterly at a loss.

“Tsk tsk, this car’s got electromagnetic suspension. Looks like the connection to the onboard computer is shot,” Li Xun pontificated.

“No kidding, we know that. Can you fix it? If not, shut up!”

With the amateur production group’s start imminent, the owner’s patience was gone. Electromagnetic suspension was high-tech and tricky to repair. Worse, his technician lacked experience and was getting a tongue-lashing.

“Uncle Zhang, don’t blame Uncle Liu. Yelling won’t fix the car any faster. Let me give it a shot,” Mo Shu said, sidling up to the owner.

Unlike Li Xun, this owner—Zhang Aimin—was in his fifties, a true car enthusiast from Mo Shu’s hometown, and a well-known self-made millionaire. Years ago, Zhang Aimin had started with a night market stall and, thanks to the economic boom, become one of the earliest wealthy entrepreneurs. Though his manner was domineering, he understood the ways of the world. He’d noticed Mo Shu’s quiet endurance through the trip, never complaining despite the hardships, and saw something of his younger self in the lad. He’d come to respect Mo Shu.

Seeing Mo Shu volunteer, Zhang Aimin was amiable, but skeptical. “Mo, I know you’re good with a camera, but you know cars too?”

“Uncle Zhang, I know a thing or two. How about this: if I fix your car, you let me race this round. We’re in the amateur group—there’s no rule about specific team members.”

Mo Shu secretly praised his own quick thinking. If the Supreme Auto Circuit System wasn’t deceiving him, this was the perfect chance to complete his newbie mission.

“Heh! Bargaining with me, eh? Good thing you’re not one of my company’s employees!” Zhang Aimin’s beefy face twisted into a grin that could have been menacing or playful. “Go on, fix it. If you fail, I dock your pay. But if you succeed, I’ll ride shotgun and navigate for you myself!”

“Deal!”

Mo Shu crouched to inspect the car’s undercarriage, at the same time pressing the “Auto Repair” button in his mind. Instantly, a schematic appeared in his mind, clearly showing the vehicle’s suspension—and a red dot flashing at a specific location.

That must be the problem, but how to fix it?

While Mo Shu loved cars, repair was a technical craft. Every mechanic starts as an apprentice. Mo Shu had never worked on repairs and felt a pang of anxiety.

“Auto Repair engaged. Host, please relax—system will temporarily take control of your body.”

At last, the system had returned—his savior! Relief washed over Mo Shu.

Meanwhile, Zhang Aimin was on the satellite phone, trying to borrow a replacement suspension unit from a fellow team. A businessman always makes sure to have a backup plan.

But he hadn’t even finished describing the part before Mo Shu’s casual voice called out, “All done.”

“All done?” With his back turned, Zhang Aimin thought he’d misheard—surely he’d only finished loosening the first bolt.

But the looks of astonishment on Li Xun and the others, their jaws nearly hitting the dirt, told him otherwise.

The entire inspection and repair had taken less than three minutes. How was that possible?

Yet Zhang Aimin’s luxury vehicle stood upright once more.

“Uncle Zhang, we’re ready to go,” Mo Shu said, dusting off his pants and sliding into the driver’s seat with a faint, enigmatic smile.