The roar of the Ferrari LaFerrari was still echoing in his ears, and the cool breeze brought by the speeding car seemed to brush against his cheeks. Lu Yan was leaning on the comfortable leather seat, thinking about the 120 million shares of the auction house and the top antique collection in the system space, a proud smile lingering on his lips. He even began to imagine tomorrow's sign-in at the City Stadium, wondering what kind of surprises God-Level Sports Ability would bring him.
Suddenly, the scene in front of him began to twist violently. The golden sunset, the bustling streets, and even the Ferrari under him all turned into blurred shadows, like ink splashed on paper, gradually dissipating. The buzzing sound in his ears became louder and louder, drowning out the roar of the car, and a sharp pain hit his head, as if someone was hitting his skull with a heavy hammer.
"What's going on?!" Lu Yan frowned, reaching out to grab the steering wheel, but his hand passed through the illusory shadow. He was shocked, and tried to stand up, but his body felt light and weightless, as if he was falling into an endless abyss.
"No! My mansion! My car! My system!" He roared in panic, trying to hold onto the wealth and abilities he had gained in the dream, but everything slipped away from his fingers like sand. The top connections, the God-Level skills, the billions of wealth—all of them disappeared in an instant, leaving only a sense of emptiness and despair.
In the next second, a piercing alarm clock rang, harsh and ear-piercing, tearing through the illusion completely.
Lu Yan jolted up suddenly, gasping for breath, his chest heaving violently, and cold sweat soaked his tattered cotton pajamas. His hair was messy, his eyes were wide open, and he looked around in confusion, his heart pounding like a drum.
There was no luxurious top-floor duplex, no marble floors, no Italian leather sofas. What greeted him was a narrow, dimly lit rental house—less than ten square meters, the walls were yellowed and covered with stains, a rickety iron bed was placed in the corner, and a broken desk was by the window, on which an old alarm clock was still ringing loudly.
The air was filled with a musty smell, mixed with the smell of instant noodles left over from last night. Outside the window, there was no bustling city center, only a dilapidated alley, where the sound of vendors shouting and the barking of dogs could be heard faintly.
Lu Yan stared blankly at his hands—rough, thin, with calluses on the fingers, the hands of a poor part-time worker who had to work hard to make a living. He raised his head, looked at the mirror hanging on the wall, and saw a haggard young man with dark circles under his eyes, messy hair, and a look of inferiority and helplessness on his face. This was the real him—Lu Yan, an orphan, living in a dilapidated rental house, working three part-time jobs a day to make ends meet, and being bullied and looked down on everywhere.
"It… it was all a dream?" He muttered to himself, his voice trembling, and he reached out to touch his chest, where there was no system prompt, no black gold card, no auction certificate—nothing. The God-Level Physique, Medical Skills, Antique Appreciation Ability that he had relied on so much, the mansion, luxury car, and shares that made him proud—all of them were just illusions in a dream.
The smile on his face disappeared completely, replaced by deep disappointment and despair. He fell back on the hard iron bed, covering his face with his hands, and a low sob came out of his throat. He had experienced the peak of life, enjoyed the wealth and power that ordinary people could not imagine, and felt the feeling of being respected and feared. But now, he was pulled back to the cruel reality in an instant, from heaven to hell, the huge gap almost crushed him.
He thought of Zhao Lei's arrogance, the respect of the club manager, the gratitude of Su Wan, the awe of the auction house experts—all of them were fake. He was still the same poor, humble Lu Yan who could only live in a rental house, who could only endure bullying and contempt, who could only dream of a better life in his sleep.
The alarm clock was still ringing, as if mocking his absurd dream. Lu Yan stretched out his hand weakly, turned off the alarm clock, and the room fell into silence again, only his heavy breathing and suppressed sobs echoing.
He lay on the bed, staring at the yellowed ceiling, his mind was blank. The dream was so real, so vivid, that he even felt that the wealth and abilities were still in his hands. But the cold reality told him that all of that was just a fantasy.
Just as he was immersed in despair, a faint sound came from his pocket. He fumbled in his tattered pajamas pocket and took out an old, worn-out smartphone. The screen was cracked, and the battery was almost dead. A text message popped up on the screen, sent by the part-time job boss:
"Lu Yan, if you don't show up at the restaurant on time in half an hour, you'll be fired. Don't forget, you still owe the rent for this month."
The text message was like a bucket of cold water, pouring on Lu Yan's head, waking him up completely from the afterglow of the dream. He knew that he had no time to be sad, no time to indulge in the illusory dream. He had to get up, change his clothes, and rush to the part-time job, otherwise he would lose his only source of income, and even be kicked out of this dilapidated rental house.
Lu Yan slowly sat up, wiped away the tears from the corners of his eyes, and his eyes gradually became firm. Although the dream was shattered, the feeling of standing at the top, the desire to be respected, and the longing for a better life were deeply engraved in his heart. That dream was not just an illusion—it was his motivation, his hope.
He stood up, walked to the broken desk, picked up the mirror, looked at the haggard young man in the mirror, and said silently in his heart: "The dream is over, but my life is not. I don't have a system, no mansion, no wealth, but I have hands and feet. I will work hard, I will counterattack, and I will make the dream in my sleep come true in reality! I will let everyone who has ever looked down on me, who has ever bullied me, look up to me!"
He quickly changed into his tattered work clothes, washed his face with cold water, and sorted out his messy hair. Although he was still humble and ordinary, there was a glimmer of determination in his eyes that he had never had before. He picked up his worn-out bag, opened the door of the rental house, and walked into the dilapidated alley. The morning sun was faint, shining on his thin figure, but he walked forward firmly, step by step.
The dream of counterattack was shattered, but the real journey of counterattack was just beginning. This time, there was no system, no shortcuts, only his own efforts and perseverance. The most dramatic opening was not the arrival of the system, but the awakening from the dream—facing the cruel reality, but still daring to pursue the dream of the peak.