The First Chapter

An Yang sat on the sofa.

He stared blankly at a piece of pure black glass in his hand. To be precise, it was a mobile phone. Its packaging box sat on the coffee table—a simple, yellow, hard kraft paper box with nothing but a conspicuous leaf pattern on it.

"This looks nothing like the Leaf S1. Where did such a beautiful knockoff come from? Where are the power button and the USB port? No, wait, this is just a piece of black glass."

An Yang couldn't help but grumble. He was certain that the phone he had ordered from the official Leaf website had been swapped.

"People these days, they're truly insane."

An Yang dejectedly put down the glass slab. He had smashed his old phone when he quit his job a few days ago, and after finally managing to get a new one, he hadn't expected to run into something like this. When a person is down on their luck, even drinking water can get stuck in their teeth.

"Speaking of which, with current logistics management, the odds of SF Express making a mistake are lower than winning the lottery. Should I go buy a ticket? Maybe I won't have to look for a job anymore."

Just as he was thinking this, a familiar ringtone suddenly echoed through the living room. He instinctively reached for his pants pocket, but felt nothing. Only then did he realize that his phone had been smashed by his own hands when he resigned.

An Yang looked down in astonishment at the black glass vibrating continuously on the coffee table. The surface of the glass had lit up, and a girl's profile picture looked exceptionally beautiful. The name "Ji Weiwei" was flickering on the screen.

"Holy crap, this is actually a phone? But if I remember correctly, I haven't even found where to insert the SIM card yet. Am I seeing things in broad daylight..."

To ensure he wasn't misremembering, An Yang specifically took out his wallet and flipped it open. That China Mobile Shenzhouxing SIM card was lying quietly next to his ID card.

"Momma, this is truly haunted!"

An Yang stared at the phone with a face full of terror, yet his hand trembled as he reached out to pick up the device that seemed to possess magic.

"It couldn't be some kind of prank, could it? People who possess this kind of technology don't seem like they'd need to make fun of me..."

He swallowed hard and swiped across the screen with a trembling finger.

"Hello, it's me."

"Hello? An Yang, I heard you quit your job again. You're a grown man, what are you making a scene for?"

"It really is you."

"Are you having a mental breakdown? If it's not me, who is it, my mother?"

"Uh, I'll explain that to you later. I have something very urgent to deal with right now. Bye."

An Yang hung up the phone in a hurry, unable to suppress the heaving of his chest. He turned the phone over and over, but let alone a slot for a SIM card, he couldn't find a single seam. It was entirely a piece of black glass.

Yet, the eerie thing was that this piece of black glass had just answered a call for him.

"Could I have run into aliens?"

"But why would aliens give me an alien phone? Did they just toss it aside because they got bored of it?"

Not knowing what to think, An Yang hurriedly threw the phone onto the sofa and stared at it, resisting the urge to bolt out the door, until the phone screen lit up again, showing absolutely no bezels.

Characters kept appearing on the screen, accompanied by a cold, synthetic voice. Although it wasn't a stiff robotic tone, it was impossible to tell if it was male or female.

"Greetings, Chosen One. It is your honor to meet me."

An Yang was completely stunned, countless images flashing through his mind.

It really was an alien phone.

What "Chosen One"? And besides, shouldn't it be "It is my honor to meet you" for a first meeting?

An Yang was bewildered.

"What... what exactly are you?"

An hour later, he finally began to understand amidst his shock that this phone could allow him to shuttle through endless space-time, acting as a gateway connecting various worlds.

"Wait, let me slow down. This isn't a dream, is it?"

An Yang recalled the many web novels he had read over the years. As a veteran fan of gaming, martial arts, and fantasy, a glimmer of excitement gradually lit up in his eyes.

A line of text appeared on the phone screen again, accompanied by the cold voice.

Prelude 1: Léon: The Professional

Mission World: Léon: The Professional (Origin World)

Mission Objective: Save Leon

Initial Skills: Mastery of Combat (Beginner), Firearms Mastery (Beginner), English Mastery (Beginner)

Initial Funds: $100,000

Mission Success: Reward Item/Ability *1, Skill Points *3, Physical Stats *3

Mission Failure: Repeat Execution

An Yang froze as a flood of knowledge suddenly poured into his brain, making his head feel like it was about to burst.

Combat force application techniques, joint-locking techniques, motion prediction methods, firearm usage methods, shooting techniques, maintenance techniques, English pronunciation, idiomatic language patterns, phonetic symbols, and more.

"This professional is not... ah!! What is this..."

Before he could finish his sentence, a flash of intense light swept over, and he vanished from the living room.

Thus, a young Chinese man dressed in a white T-shirt and jeans collapsed onto the streets of New York.

"Sir, wake up, sir. Are you alright?"

An Yang felt a wave of dizziness and shaking. As he opened his eyes, he found the surroundings dim. A bag sat beside him, and a beautiful girl blocked the light; seeing him wake up, she offered a sincere smile.

"You're finally awake. Please forgive my intrusion, but are you okay? How did you end up fainting on the street?"

An Yang's gaze stalled. The girl was blonde with blue eyes, speaking authentic American English. Yet, he understood her without any difficulty; while not quite on par with his native tongue, it far exceeded his previous English proficiency.

"Sir, are you alright?"

Seeing him unresponsive, the girl asked again.

An Yang finally snapped back to reality, shaking his head. "I'm fine. It must have been heatstroke from the weather. Thank you, beautiful girl."

The girl looked up at the overcast sky, then lowered her head stiffly with a strange expression. "You don't look well. Would you like me to take you to the hospital?"

An Yang shook his head hurriedly. "No, thank you. I am already grateful for your help; there is no need to trouble yourself further. I can manage on my own."

"It's no trouble at all. My car is parked right over there."

"I really don't need it. I have some business to attend to. Perhaps we shall meet again."

"Oh... alright. As you wish. Remember to take your bag on the ground; it should be yours."

The girl offered a helpless smile, gave a reminder, and turned to leave. She felt she shouldn't have saved this rude Easterner—or as the Chinese saying goes, it was a thankless task.

An Yang looked around to confirm the bag was his, then found a quiet, deserted spot to open it.

A US Green Card, a driver's license, a Chinese passport, and a thick stack of US dollars.

Without counting, he knew this stack of cash must be one hundred thousand dollars.

"Léon: The Professional—this is a classic. I'm really not dreaming, am I?"

Only then did An Yang realize his mind was suddenly flooded with knowledge regarding combat, firearms, and English. Even if he gained nothing else from this trip, this alone made it worthwhile.

"Isn't this supposed to be world-hopping? How did I end up inside a movie? I haven't watched this film in years."

He pulled his phone from his pocket. The moment he lifted it, the pitch-black screen lit up, revealing a blurry figure standing with its back to him.

"Something the matter?"

An Yang was stunned, silently lamenting the phone's cold demeanor, then asked, "Um, I wanted to ask when the mission begins. Why did I faint on the street? Is this really how it's supposed to go?"

"The mission has already begun. As for the fainting, it was due to the host's own lack of physical conditioning during the system's knowledge integration. It has nothing to do with me."

"Uh, isn't that because you were too impatient? Couldn't you have waited for me to prepare, adjust my mindset, and re-watch the movie?"

The phone was silent for a moment before a cold voice emerged.

"Chosen One, the Prelude mission is extremely simple with generous rewards and no penalty for failure. The system has already provided you with a Green Card, passport, driver's license, and funds—it is virtually foolproof. What more do you need? I will give you one final warning: seize the opportunity of the Prelude and familiarize yourself with the rules of space-time travel as quickly as possible. There won't be such an easy opportunity again."

The phone screen went dark.

"Uh..."

An Yang put the phone away, shrugged, pondered for a moment, and headed toward a gun shop within sight.

With a flash, a dazzling array of firearms entered his vision, from small pistols to large sniper rifles—all things he had never seen before.

It was overwhelming!

After some deliberation, An Yang selected a modified M1911 pistol set and an original CheyTacM200 sniper rifle.

The M1911 was a former US military sidearm priced at $1,200. The one An Yang bought featured rare wood grips and an ultra-light alloy frame, driving the price up to $3,500. With the matching holster, case, two extra magazines, and maintenance tools, the total came to $4,800.

The M200 sniper rifle, known as the Death Interventionist, was recognized as the anti-personnel sniper rifle with the longest range and highest precision. The full set cost $18,000, including the scope and all accessories such as the laser rangefinder, ballistic computer, sensor suite, muzzle brake, and silencer.

After presenting his Green Card and completing the registration, he pulled out a stack of cash to pay. For the $22,800 worth of gear, he paid an extra $1,000 to bypass some of the sniper rifle's paperwork, totaling $23,800.

That was equivalent to over one hundred thousand RMB, an entire year's salary back home, squandered in an instant. Having money really makes one willful.

As he left, the Boss gave him a meaningful look. "This sniper rifle has been sitting here for two years. They say fewer people in the entire United States buy this thing than get struck by lightning."

An Yang placed the pistol case into his bag—as an ordinary US citizen, he couldn't display firearms in public—and picked up the heavy sniper rifle case, casually tossing two bills onto the counter.

"Tip."

The bearded Boss smiled knowingly and quickly tucked the money into his jacket pocket.

"Though sales are low, there are collectors for this rifle. Don't worry, I'll handle the remaining paperwork for you. Even if something happens, it has nothing to do with me. By the way, waiter, a word of advice: every gun's ballistics are unique. If the gun you registered is involved in an incident, the government will find you very quickly."

An Yang walked out the door without looking back. As if! If the US government could track him to the real world, he would accept whatever crime they accused him of.