The Days of Being the Richest Man in the Ninja World - Chapter 416 - 62. To Avenge Jiraiya

“What the fuck? What is going on? Have I completely lost it?”

As I stare panicky at the dot unable to decide what to do, the white dot disappears and a line of text appears in its place.

[Installing files. 1% done…]

As I watch the text in shock, the percentage gradually increases. […2%...3%...4%...]

I move to the living room in a zombie-like manner, too shocked to think clearly and lie down on the couch.

“Something is wrong with me; I think I finally lost my sanity…”

[…12%...13%...14%...]

Unable to affect the situation in the least, I stare dejectedly at the percentage increase, while my mind starts exploring the possible explanations. In the end, as the percentage hits 90%, I narrow it down to three possibilities.

The first possibility is that I am in fact still unconscious and this is all a product of my mind. I pinch myself and whimper at the pain, as in my nervousness I used almost all my strength.

Nope, the first is out.

The second possibility is that I have completely lost my mind and am suffering from delusions. Hmm, I cannot exclude this, but while possible, I don’t think that this is it. The only thing out of the ordinary is that fucking line of text.

The third possibility …

[Installation successful!]

The text disappears and a new message appears in my eyes…

The third possibility … is that I gained a system. I read the message with my mouth agape at the implications.

[Welcome user, to the Perverted Daddy System!]

Fuck…

“Y-young master, the Lord is requesting your presence.”

I looked at myself in the mirror as a maid's voice, laced with trepidation, reached my ears.

“Tell him I'll be there shortly.”

“I understand, y-young master.”

I paid no mind to her quivering presence, my gaze fixed on my reflection.

And this is exactly why I despise this character, Yes, He is a villain with my name but does it matter, no, the problem is this guy's weight he is so heavy that this tub of lard is weighing me down, literally.

For someone who prides themselves on muscle, nothing's worse than “fat,” and this guy before me? Well, he's a prime example of that.

“I suppose I need a workout.”

Reaching the door, exhaustion gripped me and I found myself gasping for breath. It was unbelievable – this body was so darn heavy.

After an arduous struggle, I finally made my way out of the room, causing servants carrying a litter¹ to scurry over. They lowered it, creating a path for me to step onto it.

I tried to ignore the spectacle – it was this pampering that turned this fatty into a giant tire. Pushing the annoyance aside, I began to move, managing only about 10 steps before my legs gave out.

Damn it. Seriously? I collapsed, leaving the twenty servants to hastily lift me and place me onto the litter. For me, it felt more like a stretcher. There I was, sprawled on it like some mountain, panting heavily.

“You damn god! I hope the protagonist of your favorite novel gets NTRed!”

“We're here, young master.”

Can you believe it? his father's office is just thirty steps away from this pumpkin room, yet he insists on using a litter.

“Give me a hand.”

I ordered while cursing this hefty body under my breath.

“Oh, come, come, my dear child. How was your day?”

I glanced at the middle-aged man, his face exuding warmth and care.

As for my feelings? This old man right here is the reason this chubby exists. Not that I give a darn about my indulgent father.

“I'm alright, Dad.”

Yes, imagine this: as a noble, this old man spoiled this pumpkin so much that he thinks he can go around scolding the mansion's maids and servants.

“Take a seat. Hey, fetch his chair!”

You might wonder why he doesn't sit on a regular chair. Well, that's because the chair is custom-made to accommodate this hippo-sized frame.

“What's going on, Dad?”

Seriously, why would he summon this big old hippo over to his quarters? There's gotta be a reason for it....

“Your fiancee is coming tomorrow”

……………………………………………………………

Dear readers! Without any ads, maybe you will prefer .

At the age of 12, Shen Yue accidentally fell into a pond while feeding fish. That’s when she realized that her parents were not her real parents, and her five brothers were not her real brothers either. She was just a fake heiress to the Shen family!

Knowing she was destined to lose everything, Shen Yue decided to just lie down and give up. If she was going to lose it all anyway, she might as well just lie down and relax.

“Big brother, is working at the company fun? Let me check it out,” she thought, wanting to enjoy the perks of being a Shen daughter while she still could. Those luxuries would be out of reach soon enough.

“Second brother, is acting fun? Let me give it a try,” she schemed. What? They pay you just to lie still like a corpse? This is a job she had to get!

“Third brother, is that gun realistic? Let me see,” she said, examining the firearm. Not bad, though the recoil is too strong. She’d need to find a smaller one to play with next time.

“Fourth brother, will the teachers be mad if I sneak into your research institute? Let me take a peek,” she plotted, eyeing her handsome professor. A little hugging wouldn’t hurt!

“Fifth brother, that medicine you’re working on smells nice. Mind if I try a little taste…” she asked casually before sampling it. Tastes good! But now my head feels itchy—I better not be growing a brain!

On the day the real heiress returned, Shen Yue’s five brothers shielded her behind them. “Dear sister, can we keep her with us? She’s a bit slow, it’d be dangerous for her out there alone.”

The true heiress scoffed coldly, masking her sly intentions beneath a guise of innocence.

But in the end, she realized this Shen Yue really was quite dim-witted. Oh well, might as well let her stay.

The protracted ’witch hunting’ had faded into silence with the end of the Seven Years’ War, and the mysteries of the East Coast had begun to conceal themselves, yet gunpowder was on a rapid rise. Mo Qishang, who should have been utterly confounded, stood at the crossroads of destiny in the name of Arthur. He stared in astonishment at the charging knights, the wizards atop the high towers, and the bizarre wilderness. He felt the sharpness of the longsword and the recoil of the firearm, both clear and unfamiliar. At last, he excitedly shook his robe and, with a smile on his face, said— “Do not believe what I say, for to believe is to exist!”