Mike stared dead ahead at the advancing black suits. The lead suit raised his right hand, a blinding gold "$" rune materializing in his palm—the signature "Asset Freeze Seal" of the Heavenly Dao Compliance Dept. In this godforsaken world, getting hit by that thing didn't just instantly zero out your bank balance; it forcibly welded shut every Qi node in your physical body.

  No time to hesitate. No time to even wipe the mud off his hands. Mike grabbed the heavy silver flash drive with the crudely engraved Yin-Yang symbol and, driven purely by muscle memory, violently jammed it into the charging port of his shattered phone.

  The screen spasmed. The glaring blue Heavenly Dao UI instantly crashed, immediately replaced by a blinding red warning box:

  [System Alert: Unauthorized low-level protocol attempting to access the core root directory. This action severely violates Article 404 of the Heavenly Dao Terms of Service. Proceed?]

  [ YES / NO ]

  "Yes, yes! Come on!" Mike frantically jabbed his thumb at the screen.

  But of course. Of fucking course. The [YES] button was perfectly positioned right inside the spiderweb of shattered glass in the bottom right corner—the exact dead zone where the touch digitizer was completely shot. It was the same physical dead zone where the "Upgrade to VIP" ads always popped up, the one that drove him absolutely insane on a daily basis.

  He pressed down so hard that microscopic shards of glass dug into his fingertip. Zero response.

  "Anomalous data stream detected. Target ID 409. Execute physical formatting," the lead suit commanded coldly. Three enforcers stepped forward in unison, drawing black telescoping batons that crackled with high-voltage arcs.

  Mike’s heart rate redlined. In that split-second between life and death, the survival instinct of a delivery driver overrode everything else.

  He let go of the phone and slammed his left thumb down onto the left handlebar of his e-bike. Wrapped tightly in layers of black electrical tape was a standalone physical key switch. It was an original switch salvaged from a scrapped Cherry MX8.2 mechanical keyboard, which Mike had hardwired directly to the phone's volume-down circuit. He usually used it as a backup "one-click order grabber" for when his screen became unresponsive in the rain.

  "Enter, you son of a bitch!"

  Click.

  The crisp, tactile bottoming-out of the mechanical switch echoed in the silent, rainy alley, like the pulling of a cosmic trigger.

  The phone screen went pitch black. One second later, there was no flashy VIP startup animation, no corporate bullshit. Just two lines of minimalist, neon-green terminal code popping up in the center of the screen:

  Unauthorized usage: this tale is on Amazon without the author's consent. Report any sightings.

  Port 443 Open. Override_Key Accepted.

  User ID: Mike_Chen. Status Updated: [ROOT ADMIN].

  Suddenly, the entire world went quiet.

  The [14 Seconds Remaining] ad countdown that perpetually hovered in the top right corner of Mike's vision shattered into dust. Not only that, but the dense cluster of "Proximity Warning: High-Tier Cultivator Energy Field" and "Qi Congestion Alerts" cluttering his peripheral vision vanished without a trace.

  He subconsciously drew in a sharp breath.

  There was no resistance. No suffocating sensation like sucking on a tailpipe. For the first time in three years, he inhaled pure, unadulterated Qi that hadn't been throttled by an algorithm or laced with "system-sponsored impurities."

  Cold, razor-sharp, and overwhelmingly abundant, the primal energy of heaven and earth shot up his nasal cavity like an unsheathed blade of ice, instantly flooding his dried-out meridians. He felt his lungs violently expand like twin turbochargers. That single breath of unrestricted, "free air" was so potent it even caused his chronically aching lumbar spine—worn down from years of riding—to let out a satisfying series of pops.

  "Holy shit... is this what rich people air tastes like?" Mike muttered. He felt like he could punch clean through the bulletproof SUV in front of him.

  [Usable external hardware detected. Initiating Qi infusion.] A new prompt popped up on the phone.

  Pure Qi surged down the frayed USB cable, flooding into the floorboard of the e-bike like a violent electrical current. The power core of this junker was a Frankenstein rig Mike had built by forcibly hot-wiring a secondhand PV+ESS (Photovoltaic + Energy Storage System) microinverter to three dead scooter batteries. Right now, that battered PV+ESS module began emitting an ear-splitting, high-frequency whine. It was no longer compressing and storing garbage electricity; it was rapidly packing in materialized, liquid Qi.

  The black suits' batons were already swinging down toward his face.

  "Sorry, boys, this order's about to be late!" Mike twisted the throttle as far as it would go.

  The rear tire of the e-bike, now running on a "Qi-Direct Drive" mod, spun wildly in the puddles, grinding out a blinding shower of blue sparks. A fraction of a second later, the entire bike launched forward like an artillery shell. The terrifying torque instantly knocked the first two black suits off their feet, while the rear tire kicked up a perfect arc of muddy water directly into the lead supervisor’s face.

  Mike blasted out of the dead-end alley like he was riding a rampaging mechanical beast, violently merging onto the main artery of the Mission District. The gale-force wind roared in his ears, drying the rain on his face.

  He glanced down at his phone. That fatal [Order time limit exceeded: Estimated 1-Star Warning] that threatened his livelihood was gone. In its place, sitting quietly at the top of the screen, was a new system notification:

  [All speed restriction nodes and traffic light penalization mechanisms in this sector have been bypassed. Enjoy your ride, Mr. Administrator.]

  Mike chewed on the residual grit of the fortune cookie in his mouth, the corners of his lips finally pulling up into the most genuine smile he’d had in three years.

  That click of the Cherry MX switch was the most satisfying thing Mike has heard in years, wasn't it?

  Relive the adrenaline and discuss the "Root Admin" powers with other readers on

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  Mike's finally breathing easy. For now.