After breakfast, Li Qing y listlessly on his bed in his rented room, staring at the ceiling. He racked his brain for over ten minutes, but couldn't come up with a single way to make money.

  Could he pretend to be a mystic, concealing his face and swindling wealthy people?

  With his limited telekinesis, all he could do was make a single cotton thread float in the air. Any magician's illusion would seem more like a genuine superpower. Even Li Qing felt ashamed of this ability; how could he possibly showcase it in public?

  Then there was the idea of selling one of his sports cars.

  After all, his garage was vast. Retrieving a microscopic cellur sports car would practically guarantee him a Nobel Prize.

  The three 2016 Nobel Prizes were awarded for rudimentary nanobots. Compared to his advanced microscopic car, the nanobots—including the four-wheeled one—were ughably primitive.

  But what would happen after he revealed it?

  A psychiatrist suddenly transitioning into a world-renowned expert in genetic engineering research? A once-in-a-generation prodigy capturing global attention? Magazine covers and scientific publications would come rushing in.

  That kind of fame would be too hot to handle.

  After careful consideration, neither his telekinesis nor his Awakening ability seemed capable of generating income.

  "Looks like only the third superpower can make money," he muttered to himself.

  Li Qing thoughtfully stroked his chin. "The 'Hormone' ability could definitely make money," he mused. "It's incredibly alluring to women. I could become a kept man, find a wealthy matriarch from the Fungal Swarm, and just lie back. The money would practically fall into my p."

  But upon further reflection, he realized he didn't know many wealthy women.

  1. The rich old dy next door.

  2. A lesbian friend who had no romantic interest in him.

  He scoffed at the thought. An Outer God, reigning over the Outer Heaven, forced to rely on a sugar momma to fund his Church? The sheer absurdity of the situation gave him a headache.

  Out of sheer boredom, he checked the live surveilnce footage on his phone.

  The screen dispyed a vibrant underwater world teeming with microscopic organisms, coral reefs, kelp forests, and houses made of seashells.

  Sea creatures thronged the streets, their scales shimmering in the filtered sunlight that pierced the rippling seawater. The mythical ocean kingdom glowed with otherworldly beauty.

  The Tower of Babel had risen another level.

  At its current pace—about one level every half-day—the united efforts of billions of citizens could complete the sky-piercing tower in just three or four days. Then they'd be ready to strike.

  Li Qing stared at the surveilnce footage on his phone, suddenly snapping his fingers. "Right! I can just edit these camera recordings into beautiful CG videos and post them online. That should rake in views and clicks!"

  Of course, he couldn't rely on making videos for a living forever. After all, once he could cure cancer, he'd be able to fleece the wealthy. Even a single treatment could secure his financial future—safe, discreet, and convenient. Money would never be a concern again.

  "This is just a temporary solution for the next month."

  Li Qing immediately got to work, opening his ptop and pulling up the surveilnce footage.

  "First, subtlety is key. We need to be as low-key as possible!"

  "No cuts that might reveal sensitive information. Just wide, aesthetically pleasing CG shots of people strolling through a city street. We're selling visuals here—aiming for that 'fresh and artsy' vibe to appeal to the hipster crowd."

  After some thought, Li Qing decided that to conceal the true origins of the underwater city footage, he would frame it as fan-made content based on existing novel and film IPs.

  With viewers already predisposed to accepting it as fan art, they'd be less likely to notice anything amiss.

  Online, he defended himself: "Exactly! I'm a die-hard fan of this IP! This video is fan-made! What? You don't think the visuals match? Sorry, my skills are limited, and the art style's a bit off, but trust me, I'm a true fan!"

  Having crified his strategy, Li Qing began searching for a major IP to quickly monetize.

  The kebed from Harry Potter?

  It didn't quite fit.

  The underwater city from One Piece?

  He hesitated, worried the cshing art styles might draw harsh criticism.

  Naruto?

  The Land of Water... underwater ninjas?

  That was just btant misrepresentation.

  He scrolled through various famous IPs, finally settling on a recent hit: Cthulhu's sunken city of R'lyeh.

  The bizarre, stitched-together marine life within actually fit surprisingly well. Deep-sea creatures had an eerie, otherworldly aesthetic, and the IP was popur both domestically and internationally.

  Thus, in half an hour, Li Qing casually edited ten minutes of footage from his morning's drone footage of the underwater city: soldiers patrolling and arresting cultists, street brawls, two soldiers riding grotesque giant creatures into battle, and neighbors chatting.

  He uploaded the video simultaneously to Bilibili and YouTube, titling it:

  A Day in the Sunken City of R'lyeh: Awakening Cthulhu!

  The video thumbnail featured a stunning image of the underwater city, accompanied by the text:

  Hardcore Grind! 197 Hours of Painstaking Frame-by-Frame Animation Bring the Legendary Sunken City of R'lyeh to Life!

  Li Qing understood the dynamics of short-form video perfectly. To maximize visibility and entice clicks, he added descriptive text to the thumbnail.

  Upon opening the video, a tear-jerking caption awaited:

  I practically went bald working on this video! In this era of clickbait marketing, I hope genuine effort gets some love!

  Sob! A small creator poured a month of his life into this video. Please don't let it end with just a few thousand views! The high-resolution version won't upload; download link in pinned comment.

  After this dramatic plea, he uploaded the video, confident it would go viral. These meticulously crafted, hundreds-of-hours passion projects often exploded in popurity on Bilibili.

  "Looks like hard work really does pay off," Li Qing mused, moving on without giving it a second thought.

  That afternoon, he headed back to the gym. Since the previous day, Li Qing had stopped his personal trainer, and even Susan, who sometimes came to train him, from visiting. His current training regimen had already surpassed human limitations.

  His muscle density was now extraordinary. Though not bulky, his explosive power far exceeded that of even the most muscur bodybuilders.

  At this point, it was less about fitness and more about testing his limits.

  "Weightlifting, long jump, high jump—I've already shattered human records in all of them. It's all due to the fundamental differences in our biological genetic makeup," Li Qing said, stepping off the treadmill. He noticed he was barely sweating, simply wiping himself down with a towel.

  "Humans do have inherent limits, dictated by our genes. No matter how hard we train, we'll never break the nine-second barrier for the 100-meter sprint. Cheetahs, on the other hand, can casually run it in six or seven seconds."

  "Tigers don't even need to train. They're born with lean, powerful muscles that make up over half their body weight. It's hardwired into their DNA."

  "Human muscles, on the other hand, are naturally soft and weak. Even bodybuilders lose their gains quickly if they stop training."

  From this perspective, individual effort mattered little. Genetic structure and ancestral lineage determined the fundamental capabilities of life.

  Due to environmental constraints, he hadn't yet tested his 100-meter sprint. But he felt it was unnecessary. He estimated he could now casually run it in five or six seconds, easily shattering the human limit.

  "I think I've trained enough for now. Time to wrap this up. I don't need to come to the gym for a while."

  Under the warm sunlight, Li Qing fshed a gentle smile, put on his sungsses, and strolled leisurely down the street toward home.