Chapter 15: Radical Renovation... What on Earth Is This?

At 1 p.m., Ma Zhaodi finally returned to the shabby and chaotic residential area in the East District, riding his beloved vehicle.

Don’t get me wrong—it wasn’t that choosing the vehicle took too long. In fact, the entire car-buying process only took about ten minutes. The reason he arrived at this time was because the vehicle he chose had a slight disadvantage in speed.

“Ha, ha, ha…” Panting heavily, Ma Zhaodi looked as if he had just been drenched, pushing a folding bicycle along the roadside like a dead dog.

A taxi followed slowly behind and eventually stopped nearby. The door opened, and Drake, looking relaxed, stepped out.

“Can you even manage it? It’s just riding from Osburg District back to East District, yet you look like you’re about to pass out.”

“I… I have an eight o’clock shift. If you’re so capable, why don’t you try riding the whole way?”

Ma Zhaodi’s stamina wasn’t terrible, just not great either. He managed the trip mainly by taking frequent breaks.

You have to admit, because Drake’s taxi had followed him the whole way, the fare was unusually high. When Drake paid, his sour expression somewhat balanced Ma Zhaodi’s feelings of injustice.

“I told you before, why not just buy a cheap motorcycle or a used car? But no, you insisted on a folding bike.”

Drake shook his head and sighed. “Driving a car around Gotham is a triple win—you can defend against carjackers, use the vehicle as cover during gunfights, and limit your enemies’ shooting angles. It’s a really cost-effective deal.”

Ma Zhaodi finally caught his breath and blurted out, “I don’t know how to drive.”

He truly didn’t. The driver’s license was given to him by the system, not earned by himself. Back home, he had only passed the written test and never learned the practical part—let alone the fact that American cars and driving methods differ from those in China.

Drake was stunned. “You have a license?”

“Yeah, the license is real, but I can’t drive—so if I buy a car, tomorrow we might just randomly pick an unlucky person on the road and start a second gunfight.”

Ma Zhaodi had planned to check the system’s shop for driving skills and maybe find a cheap vehicle. But when he opened the system’s shop while walking the streets and saw his asset balance, his eyes popped wide like copper coins, feeling as if the sky had fallen.

The system still showed his assets as three dollars—the same as yesterday.

Wait, what happened to my over four thousand dollars? The money I just received was still in my bag. Why hasn’t my asset balance increased by a single dollar?

Did someone steal it?

“Bootstrap system reminds you: you reap what you sow. Only by completing work hours matching your pay will your asset points increase.”

“Therefore, this asset settlement will occur after completing four weeks of work—meaning next month.”

“You’re kidding me…”

Ma Zhaodi’s mood shifted slightly.

“What about my tips?”

“Your tips will be settled after each job and will be added to your asset points.”

“Well, that’s… fine.” Ma Zhaodi bit his teeth and tried to calm himself.

The system wasn’t entirely unreasonable. At least he could earn some asset points during his working days for emergencies.

Since his asset points hadn’t increased, his plan to buy a cheap vehicle or learn driving skills had to be put on hold.

So, before he learned to drive or acquired driving skills, what should he use as transportation?

Gotham’s infrastructure wasn’t terrible. The East District had buses and subways, but both often attracted zero-fare riders who were either guerrilla types or small gangs.

He was somewhat introverted and didn’t want to have friendly chats or heated debates with such people like Old Jack did. Still, he had to bring cash tips home every day.

After all, real-world wages couldn’t be casually deposited into the bootstrap system. Once he earned money through work, the system would automatically increase his asset points. But to deposit the earned dollars into the system, he would have to spend some asset points.

Thus, bicycles, motorcycles, or taxis were viable options. He only needed to last two months until he learned to drive.

In the end, Ma Zhaodi obediently bought a cheap folding bike for sixty dollars. The reason he didn’t buy a motorcycle was that he could bring the bike home directly, whereas a motorcycle was more vulnerable to damage.

Besides, the simpler the vehicle, the safer it was in the East District. A poor guy on a cheap bike was less likely to be robbed than someone driving a car.

The only downside was that cycling was physically demanding and time-consuming.

The two of them wobbled their way toward the East District. To Ma Zhaodi’s surprise, what Old Jack’s rickety bike took forty minutes to cover in the morning, he had been riding until 1 p.m.

Old Jack’s skills were undeniable. Even with loose tires, his reliable driving made up for it.

“If I go to work at this speed, Donald will fire me within three days.”

Just as Ma Zhaodi was feeling down, the system’s voice suddenly sounded in his ear:

“Bootstrap system reminds you: the shop proudly offers bike upgrade services starting at fifty asset points; electric wheelchair upgrades starting at one hundred; car upgrades starting at one thousand.”

“That’s really ridiculous.”

Setting aside what kind of modifications a thousand-dollar car upgrade entailed, what the hell was an electric wheelchair upgrade?

He carefully read the description.

“Speed: eighty miles per hour. Mood: carefree, handsome, stylish!”

“Note: This upgrade requires wheelchair driving specialization. Drive responsibly, or your loved ones will weep.”

To be fair, in a city like Gotham, the downside was encountering all kinds of lunatics. The upside was that when you went crazy, everyone would just see you as another madman.

At this moment, Ma Zhaodi did feel a little tempted.