Chapter 513: The End of the Takeout God, Tang Kun!
I worked hard and earned several hundred million, only to be poor again overnight!
Tang Kun's face was pale, his handsome features filled with bitterness. All his bank accounts were frozen, and his Bugatti Veyron and luxury watches were also impounded.
Furthermore, he had to cooperate with the investigation. If he couldn't explain the source of these huge, unexplained assets, he might even go to jail.
However, after a frantic mental communication with the Takeout Tycoon System, a sliver of Tang Kun's initial, heart-stopping panic began to subside. He was no longer quite so flustered.
The System assured him in its monotone, digital voice that the sources of his assets were completely legal. Every cent was meticulously laundered through global lottery winnings and high-stakes gambling ventures in various countries where such activities were regulated. He had even, on the System's instruction, paid every last required tax. On paper, he was clean. There were no legal issues whatsoever.
The absolute worst-case scenario, the System calculated, was a few days of detention before he would be released due to a lack of evidence. A minor inconvenience.
But Tang Kun knew better. This wasn't random. This was a targeted strike.
"Someone must be messing with me," Tang Kun growled, the words a low rumble of fury from deep in his chest. His hands, cuffed to the cold metal table of the interrogation room, clenched into white-knuckled fists. "It has to be that bastard Shen Anyu!"
He wasn't stupid. He had connected the dots. An investigation into the source of his assets, something that should never have happened given his clean record, could only be the work of a powerful enemy pulling strings from the shadows.
From the opulent comfort of a Hilton penthouse suite hundreds of miles away, a chuckle escaped Shen Anyu's lips. He was watching the live feed from a nanometer monitoring robot, a tiny fly on the wall of the stark interrogation room. "He guessed right."
"Husband, what did he guess right?" Zhou Luyao's voice was a silken whisper beside him. She shifted, her body pressing against his as she looked up at him, her eyes pools of adoration and allure. Her voice, once cold and dismissive to Tang Kun, was now as sweet and cloying as honey.
"None of your business," Shen Anyu said, his tone casual, almost dismissive, but his hand came up to stroke her hair. "Just be good."
The woman who had once stood before Tang Kun as a noble, aloof goddess was now impossibly gentle, a pliant kitten purring for her master's affection. Shen Anyu leaned back into the plush sofa, lazily enjoying Zhou Luyao's attentive service as she began to methodically peel a grape for him. His gaze remained fixed on the screen displaying Tang Kun's desperate situation, his expression one of pure, predatory amusement.
Tang Kun, in his panicked state, seemed to have forgotten something. Something critical.
He had obtained the Takeout Tycoon System, yes, but its power was conditional. He could only receive its god-like rewards by delivering takeout. The missions were his lifeline. And if he failed to complete those tasks on time, he would suffer punishments. Vicious, soul-crushing punishments.
Sure enough, as the first rays of dawn painted the sky, Tang Kun's carefully reconstructed composure shattered. A sudden, visceral terror seized him, and his expression contorted in agony. He shot to his feet, rattling his cuffs.
"Officer! Big brother!" he shouted, his voice cracking with desperation. "Please, can you let me out just to deliver a takeout order? I need to deliver takeout! It's an emergency!"
He was anxious, truly and profoundly anxious. A familiar ding had just echoed in his mind.
A new takeout mission had arrived. The reward was obscenely generous: deliver a single black pepper chicken chop rice and receive five million in cash.
But the punishment was a guillotine hanging over his head: failure to complete the mission on time would result in the loss of ten years of his lifespan.
"You can be released once you explain clearly," a young, stern-faced officer replied, unmoved by the display. "How, exactly, did an unemployed delivery boy like you acquire assets worth hundreds of millions?" The other investigators in the room stared at Tang Kun with undisguised suspicion, their eyes cold and hard.
They had already dug deep into Tang Kun's background. Parents deceased since he was young. No powerful connections. Just an ordinary, down-on-his-luck takeout driver. How could a man like that suddenly possess a fleet of supercars, a collection of haute horlogerie, and bank accounts overflowing with cash? Something was deeply wrong.
His current behavior only confirmed their suspicions. He was frantically pale, his eyes wild, and he was screaming about needing to deliver takeout. Did he honestly think they were fools? It was the most absurd escape attempt they had ever heard. If they let him outside, he would vanish in seconds.
"Confess and be lenient; resist and be severe," the officer said, his voice dropping an octave. "You need to explain everything, clearly!"
"It's all really legal, I swear! Just let me out to deliver this one order, please!" Tang Kun was on the verge of tears, his mind screaming. He absolutely couldn't—he could not—reveal the existence of the Takeout Tycoon System. It was the one rule the System had burned into his very soul.
As his pleas fell on deaf ears, the System's notifications began to chime in Shen Anyu's mind, a sweet melody of another's despair.
[Ding! Child of Destiny Tang Kun is burning with anxiety. Plundering +9999 Destiny Points!]
[Ding! Child of Destiny Tang Kun is extremely anxious. Plundering +9999 Destiny Points!]
Time bled away, each tick of the clock a hammer blow against Tang Kun's sanity. Then, to his absolute horror, the mission timer in his mind hit zero. The mission had failed.
An invisible force slammed into him. It wasn't a physical blow, but something far worse. He felt a decade of vitality ripped from his body, a vital essence siphoned away into nothingness. The world grew dimmer, the colors less vibrant. A chilling weakness spread through his limbs, and the air suddenly felt thin in his lungs. He already had one less kidney, and now, even the simple act of breathing became a laborious effort.
But the Takeout Tycoon System was relentless. The missions would not stop.
Ding.
Another chime. A new takeout mission. This time, the reward was even more astronomical: he only needed to deliver three cups of coffee to receive a luxury yacht worth three hundred million.
The punishment was correspondingly more severe: lose another kidney.
If he failed this, both would be gone.
An inferno of pure panic consumed him. He was burning with an anxiety so intense it dwarfed anything he had ever known.
"Big brother, I'm begging you!" he screamed, his voice raw and shredded. "Please let me out! I can give you money! A million! No, ten million! Just let me go for half an hour!"
"That's blatant bribery," the officer snapped, his eyes narrowing. "An even greater crime!"
"No, big brother, it's not like that! I really have a life-or-death matter! I need to go out and deliver takeout, I swear!"
"Be serious," the officer said, his patience worn thin. "Confess and be lenient. Resist and be severe. Tell us the truth, and then you can leave."
The excuse of delivering takeout was too absurd, too outlandish to ever be accepted. Tang Kun's mind raced, desperately trying to concoct another excuse, but every frantic thought led back to the same dead end. No matter what he said, their response was the same: be honest.
The problem was, how could he possibly explain the Takeout Tycoon System? He was a prisoner in his own body. He even tried to blurt it out, to scream the truth, but just as the words formed on his tongue, a searing jolt of electricity, a punishment from the System itself, coursed through his brain, silencing him.
It was over.
A new, horrifying sensation bloomed in his lower back. It was a phantom emptiness, a sudden, chilling void where something vital used to be. He gasped, his eyes wide with terror, as another kidney was simply… gone.
"No… no, please, don't… ah!"
In the Hilton penthouse suite, the final notifications chimed.
[Ding! Child of Destiny Tang Kun has completely collapsed. Plundering +87650 Destiny Points!]
[Ding! Tang Kun's Destiny Points have been cleared. The Child of Destiny's halo is shattered. He has lost his status as a Child of Destiny!]
[Ding! The Takeout Tycoon System has detached. Would you like to spend one million Destiny Points to devour the Takeout Tycoon System? Countdown: Ten, nine, eight…]
'That's it?' Shen Anyu thought, a bemused smile playing on his lips. 'I barely did anything, and he just collapsed?'
On the screen, he watched as Tang Kun was stretchered out, his body convulsing, before being loaded into an ambulance. He didn't even make it to the hospital. He died en route. This was, without a doubt, the first Child of Destiny who had effectively destroyed himself without Shen Anyu needing to lift more than a finger.
As for spending a million Destiny Points to devour the Takeout Tycoon System?
A complete waste.
This System was pathetically limited. It could only grant money and material wealth, not truly extraordinary rewards. And its punishments were disgusting—shrinking genitals, losing kidneys, electric shocks, simulated drowning. Even if his own member shrank by half, it would still be enormous, but he had absolutely no interest in ever finding out.
It was a completely useless, trash-tier System.
Shen Anyu didn't even give the countdown a second glance. Now, if it were a System that could deliver takeout across all the myriad worlds—delivering a meal to Pangu, the Three Pure Ones, or Nuwa—then he might have considered it.
The saga of the Takeout Tycoon, the Child of Destiny Tang Kun, had come to its complete and pathetic end. Shen Anyu had eliminated another hidden danger, and with that minor task completed, he turned his full attention to the sweet night he would spend with Zhou Luyao.
'Sure enough, Tang Kun provoked that person and met with misfortune.' A young man with an ordinary appearance and ordinary clothes, with his hands in his pockets, glanced at the rushing ambulance, his eyes flashing momentarily, and he sighed inwardly. He had been struggling, wanting to go find her, but now, he would return home. 'I'll go back to my portable immortal manor and farm. Once I cultivate the Longevity Fruit, I will have hope for eternal life. By then, I won won't need to specifically seek revenge on Shen Anyu. After a hundred years, a thousand years, I'll just dance on his grave.' 'Living is everything; eternal life will eventually lead to invincibility!'
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