What’s unique here is that the partition between the living room and the bedroom isn’t a door, but a projected 3D virtual waterfall.

As Paul reached out and slapped the wall, the white wall on the right slowly rose, revealing a neon-lit city outside the huge floor-to-ceiling glass window, shrouded in rain.

“So, bro, what do you think? Not bad, right?”

“This is your place?”

“Hahaha, that’s a good joke. Who still buys houses these days?”

As Paul sat down on the gray sofa in the corner, a virtual program was immediately projected in front of him. “This is a buddy’s place. I have the access code. Later, he died, so the room’s been empty. I don’t even know how many months’ rent he paid. You can stay here for now. I’ve given you authorization. We’ll talk again if the landlord kicks you out.”

Jack Spencer walked around the not-so-large room and found that it had everything—fridge, washing machine, wardrobe—no need to buy anything, you could move in right away.

Honestly, this was a bit beyond his expectations. He thought Paul would just find some dump to fob him off.

Paul casually swung his left leg as he sat on the sofa, flipping through the floating 3D programs in midair. Finding nothing interesting, he stood up.

“All right then, you get some rest. Tomorrow we’ll deal with the nervous system stuff. I’m heading out to have some fun. Can’t waste the money I spent at Club 69. My mother always taught me to be thrifty. That place is expensive.”

As soon as Paul left, Brian Carter asked, “Want me to keep an eye on him? In case he runs off.”

“No need, that guy can’t run. Don’t forget, he’s a streamer. But keep an eye out tonight, just in case someone tries to break in.”

Even though Paul seemed pretty loyal, you can never be too careful, especially in such a strange city.

When Jack Spencer sat down on the sofa, his nerves finally relaxed for the first time. He let out a long breath.

He looked again at Brian Carter, at everything around him. Everything that happened today felt so surreal, it made Jack Spencer feel like he was dreaming.

It was almost as if, if he just went to sleep again, he’d wake up back in his own world.

But when Jack Spencer lifted his cold mechanical arm and watched his metal hand open and close in front of him, he knew it was all real.

“Sigh, if only this really were a dream.” Jack Spencer looked up at the gray ceiling, gently tapping the seam of iron and flesh on his arm.

Meanwhile, outside by the elevator, Paul was listening to blasting death metal in his earphones, calling up an acquaintance. “Bro, how much did you sell those two people’s info for before?”

“What?! Didn’t sell? Not even 0.1?”

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Jack Spencer lay on the bed, listening to the sound of rain outside, as if everything had finally quieted down.

But just then, all the emotions he’d been holding back seemed to catch up with him—fear of death, rejection of this strange environment, and the realization that he was now disabled.

Jack Spencer shook his head hard and stood up again. Now that he was in this unfamiliar place, he had to adapt as quickly as possible.

Because if he didn’t, he might end up in danger again.

Jack Spencer sat down in front of the sofa and began absorbing knowledge as much as he could from the ads and news in front of him, gradually getting to know this new world.

As he kept browsing, he gained a whole new understanding of this city—or rather, the entire new world.

Now, the concept of “nation” had completely disappeared, as had government systems. The whole world had become pure capitalism, with big corporations and conglomerates using capital to control city after city.

This city, or rather every city district, was now controlled by big companies. City management was handled by a city council made up of the largest companies, and even security was collectively funded and outsourced to security firms.

So strictly speaking, BCPD isn’t the police—they’re just security guards.

Of course, companies don’t do this out of the goodness of their hearts. Expecting capitalists to have a conscience is like expecting the moon to come back down from the sky.

They do it only because a minimum level of order is needed to guarantee maximum profit.

As Jack Spencer scrolled down, he saw a history of corporate struggles over the past century. For profit, companies would stop at nothing—war, assassination, espionage, endless battles to the death.

Yet seeing all this, Jack Spencer let out a long breath. It seemed companies only cared about making money. Everything was for profit, and the archaeology industry had completely disappeared.

He, a guy frozen a thousand years ago, wasn’t some Tang Monk’s flesh that every demon wanted to eat. For now, he was safe.

Of course, Jack Spencer knew he was only safe for now, not absolutely safe.

Earlier, Paul had said that in this world, traffic is gold. If his identity was exposed, he’d be in big trouble.

If he really was discovered, Brian Carter would definitely be destroyed, no doubt about it.

So now, his identity had to be kept absolutely secret. He had to disguise himself as someone from this world as much as possible.