"First things first," Cyrus rubbed his chin and muttered, "...I need to secure tons of resources."
"Grrrrr....!"
Just then, his stomach let out a loud groan, protesting in hunger.
Cyrus ca back to his senses and rubbed his stomach while letting out a bitter chuckle.
"I need to find sothing to eat first." He kept rubbing his stomach with a dry bitter chuckle.
He stood up and made his way to the kitchen, well, not much of a kitchen; there was rust speckled in the sink, paint peeling off from the cabinet edges like old skin, and his small broken refrigerator stood silently in the corner.
Looking at this old and desolate kitchen, Cyrus shook his head and opened the cabinet one by one; their hinges creaked mournfully in response. There was nothing in the cabinet except for a few packs of instant noodles.
Looking at the few packs of instant noodles, a resigned sigh escaped from him, "Guess I’ll have to do with this."
He took the battered kettle, filled it with water, and set it on the old portable stove, waiting for it to boil. The flickering blue fla of the stove cast a soft glow under the kettle and around the small kitchen.
Looking dazily at the kettle on the stove, his thoughts started to drift like smoke as his mind was pulled back to mories of his previous life.
He had faced hordes of zombies, huge and abominable monsters that could blot out the sky, beings who seed to transcend humanity itself.
The steam coming from the kettle pulled his drifting thoughts back; he shook his head and quickly prepared the noodles and set them on the old table in the room.
Sitting and looking at the instant noodles in front of him, the sll hit him—this sll to soone right now is the sll of poor food, but to him, it’s profound; this sll alone evoked loads of mories in him.
His stomach once again let out another loud growl, this one fiercer than the first one, so without hesitation, he imdiately started digging in. The scalding heat could be damned for all he cared! Each bite of these simple noodles felt like reclaiming life itself with every mouthful.
Just then, he felt sothing wet from the corner of his eyes. His hand stopped in midair as he brushed his fingers against the corner of his eyes and was quite stunned for a mont.
"Ridiculous," he whispered softly under his breath as he lowered the chopsticks and watched the hot steam rise up from the noodles in front of him. "It’s just so noodles."
Although he said that, deep down he knew that this was not just so noodles to him.
So people didn’t grasp what they truly had; they couldn’t fathom how quickly everything would fade away. Give it two months, families would backstab each other over just a piece of biscuit, entire communities and friends would scramble over a few pieces of dirty at thrown on the floor and wouldn’t mind killing each other for it.
He had witnessed these kinds of things countless tis, over and over again.
In his previous life, sothing as simple as instant noodles or hot dogs with flavor was a luxury reserved for those at the top. Simple junk food that people used to despise had transford into commodities worth bloodshed; wars were started over this food.
A single pack of instant noodles could ignite riots and even drive n to sell their very souls for just a single bite, and all that just to survive to see tomorrow.
Cyrus shook his head and lowered it to continue eating, but this ti he slowed down as he carefully tasted the noodles in his mouth.
"A billionaire’s food."
Such a thought flashed through his mind because in the apocalypse, that’s what this bowl had beco.
Just the thought alone made him chuckle bitterly.
A few monts later, he finished the last strands of noodles, savoring them as if he was tasting the most delicious food in the world; he even licked the bowl clean.
Setting the bowl down, he leaned back in the chair, picked his teeth, let out a satisfied sigh, and patted his stomach. Although it wasn’t much, it did the job of filling up his stomach.
His gaze drifted to the ceiling, which had cracks everywhere, and then he muttered, "Now it’s ti to plan how to gather enough supplies."
But to gather supplies, he needs money... money, that’s the problem. He needs a mountain of it, enough to drown in food and dicine, especially food. He will need enough supplies to prepare the Ark when the apocalypse arrives.
If this were the old Cyrus, he would have despaired at such a thought by now; he would have to work for years to gather such a huge amount of money, and besides, he might not even gather that much money in his lifeti, except maybe if he wins the lottery or robs a bank.
But right now, the current him is not worried at all. After all, he is a regressor. If he can’t make money with this, then he will just have to bang his head on the wall and die.
Just as Cyrus was sifting through his mories to see if he could find many quick ways to get the money, Noah’s cold and emotionless voice sounded in his mind.
"Administrator, if you want money, I can solve this matter in a few seconds."
Cyrus’s eyes lit up imdiately as he leaned forward and asked, "What do you an?"
"I can freely transfer money to your bank account by manipulating the global banking network without triggering any suspicion. Within a few seconds, your bank account can be expanded exponentially."
Realization flashed through Cyrus’s eyes as he blinked with genuine surprise.
Although he had already made a preliminary estimate of how powerful a Level 9 Cosmic Civilization is in his heart, this was simply too good.
Cyrus deeply felt that he had greatly underestimated Noah’s abilities.
"You can really do that?" Cyrus ca back to his senses and asked.
[Affirmative.]
The Internet technology that this world prides itself on might be full of loopholes in front of Noah.
"How long will it take..." Before he could even finish his sentence, his phone, lying beside him, started vibrating incessantly.
Cyrus picked it up and saw dense ssages popping up, flashing across the screen.
Notifications after notifications rolled down in endless streams:
[Your ACB savings account ending in 0688 received an interbank transfer of 4,000,000]
[Your ACB savings account ending in 0688 received an interbank transfer of 6,000,000.]
[Your ACB savings account ending in 0688 received an interbank transfer of 8,000,000.]
[Your ACB savings account ending in 0688 received an interbank transfer of 12,000,000.]
The ssages went on and on, each number climbing higher with each notification until they blurred into aningless figures.
He simply turned off his phone, as this broken phone of his might freeze if he didn’t do that.
Cyrus raised an eyebrow and asked, "How much?"
"A total of 100 billion," Noah’s cold voice sounded.
Cyrus lifted an eyebrow; he was shocked and just a little bit surprised. He didn’t care much about the money.
Even if Noah couldn’t help him with his knowledge of the future, he could make a lot of money,although not as much as what Noah made but enough to secure tons of supplies.
To anyone else, this amount of money would have been such wealth that it would be a dream beyond imagination. But to him, it’s rely a tool, as in two months, such money will beco completely useless.
He nodded his head, "That’s good enough."
As for whether this amount of money would alert the bank, security agencies, or the governnt, he didn’t care. After all, he is preparing to disappear to the Ark, where they can’t find him, and besides, he has Noah; nobody can find him.
Just then, Noah’s voice sounded again, breaking through his thoughts.
"Administrator, I suggest that you secure a huge warehouse facility imdiately, far from the city center. When the bulk of supplies has been acquired, they can be stored there first, and from there, they can be transported into the Ark without raising any suspicions".
Cyrus thought over what Noah said and smiled faintly; it was smart and straightforward advice.
It was the kind of advice he didn’t necessarily need but certainly appreciated.
"Alright then," he nodded, "let’s do it your way."
With that being said, he stood up from his chair and made his way to his small wardrobe.
There was not much in it, just a few neatly folded clothes and a long black hoodie hanging on the side.
He quickly changed into a new set of clothes and put on the hoodie, pulling the hood over his head, his cold blue eyes flashing under the hood.
He picked up his phone and made his way to the door before walking out.
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