PROLOGUE: THAT DAY, A PROMISE WAS MADE

It was a rainy night.

It rained throughout the vast lands, which also included a small stone room. The room was dark, and only had a small old lamp to illuminate the place.

A youth of sixteen was squatting in a corner of the room, using a stove made of bricks and small wooden twigs to heat up water in a pot. The pot had been burned in soot flame for so long that it had turned black and filthy, but the youth didn't seem to care.

His furrowed brows opened up as bubbles floated on top of the water, and he urgently grabbed a dirty rag to hold the hot pot. He carefully put some hot water in a glass and walked to the other side of the room.

A middle aged woman with a haphazard hair bun was resting on the cold ground, with her body leaning against the wall. Her face was pale and dirty, and her eyes unsteady.

"Mother, you'll feel well if you drink this hot water!"

She looked at him and raised her hand weakly, but she didn't hold the glass. She held his other palm and said.

"I want you to promise me something..."

The youth held the glass down, and enveloped his Mother's palm in his hand with his other.

"I don't know how you're going to live."

"But promise me…"

"That you'll die as the richest and the most powerful person in the world!"

The youth nodded quickly in fear his mother would stop talking.

Seeing him nod, his Mother took a deep breath and closed her eyes.

She was finally sleeping…

The youth was still holding her hands. Seeing his Mother not responding, his body shivered as he slowly hugged her and put his head against her while crying.

The body started getting cold.

The youth was still holding her hands.

That day, a promise was made.