Reborn as a Ruthless Entrepreneur in Another World

Chen Mo's nostrils caught a whiff of decay before his consciousness fully awakened. It was the scent of mold crawling up stone walls, mixed with the sour tang of damp leather, reminiscent of the expired files piled up in the basement of his previous company. His fingertips brushed against rough linen sheets, and when he opened his eyes, the carved dome above was shedding gold dust, drifting into a desolate starlit haze in the morning light. "Welcome to the alternate world, Reincarnate 1." The mechanical voice thundered in his mind, causing Chen Mo to bolt upright, his lower back hitting the carved wood decorations on the bedhead, making him hiss in pain. A semi-transparent holographic panel appeared on his retina, with a blue cursor blinking in the "Initial Skills" column, as if mocking the worthlessness of his years of life experience at this moment. PPT Hypnosis]: Can package any concept as a "strategic vision," with an % effectiveness rate on targets with cognitive levels below the modern society's average.‌ [Excel Alchemy]: Can convert data into tangible magic, with conversion efficiency positively correlated to formula complexity. Current proficiency level: Novice Village Blacksmith Shop.‌ "s**t," Chen Mo muttered, his gaze shifting down to the "3,0 gold coins" in the debt column. The number flickered with a bloody shadow on his retina, accompanied by the note "0 years' rent for the castle," making his temples throb. He recalled the nights when his former clients demanded "PPT with a Nasdaq IPO feel," and the coffee stains spreading on Excel spreadsheets, which now overlapped with the holographic projection before his eyes. Pushing open the creaky wooden door, a cold breeze swept in with a few withered leaves, fluttering down the corridor. The three-mu castle now resembled an empty shell, with weeds growing out of cracks in the granite floor, more diligently guarding the ruins than any guards. Chen Mo bumped into a dusty mirror at the second-floor corner, reflecting a pale young face with a tear-shaped mole on the left corner of his eye, reminding him of the intern he had scolded into tears the previous year – he who always said "Mercy does not lead armies," now had to play the role of a nobleman facing this scholarly face. "System, explain the conscience value mechanism," he pressed his temples, trying to suppress the sudden wave of nausea. The holographic panel switched accordingly, displaying a faint golden progress bar like a hangman's noose suspended in the center of his retina. [Conscience Value System]: Initial value at 5%. Below 5% can activate return permissions. Each decision conforming to the "unscrupulous entrepreneur" code of conduct causes a decrease; moral restraint resulting in self-doubt causes an increase. Current detection shows host has moral residue from the modern world, with a resistance coefficient for decrease at 5%.‌ "Moral residue," Chen Mo sneered, his fingertips tracing the mirror, dust outlining a curve resembling a balance sheet on his palm. He thought of the "promotion pie" he drew for interns, the shopping cards he gave to clients to secure projects, those "morals" insignificant in the face of KPIs, now becoming obstacles to survival in this alternate world. At 3 PM, Chen Mo met his first batch of "employees" in the castle courtyard. Three elf craftsmen leaned against the stone wall basking in the sunlight, their eartips glowing translucent green in the sun. With carved tool bags hanging at their waists, they were making flower garlands with vines instead of working – according to system data, the average daily effective working time for elves is only hours, with the remaining hours dedicated to "communicating with nature." "Gentlemen," Chen Mo cleared his throat, pulling a parchment out from his sleeve, which he had spent three hours last night crafting as a "performance improvement plan." Excel Alchemy generated intricate formulas on the back, and the fluctuations of magic caused the elves to lift their heads, confusion flickering in their emerald eyes. "We shall establish the 'Moonlight Blessing' program," he unfolded the parchment, PPT Hypnosis coalescing into a mellow seduction in his vocal cords. "On the full moon nights of each month, the gods will descend upon the workshop, granting triple blessings to those who work diligently for 9 consecutive days to earn the qualification." The eldest elf craftsman set down his flower garland, fingering his beard. "But, Lord, we only work three days a week..." "Wrong," Chen Mo interrupted, pointing at the "Vision" column on the top left corner of the parchment, with magic essence, writing "Building the Continent's Premier Workshop." "You are working for the progress of civilization. See the nearby orc tribe over there? They are learning to use iron tools. If we don't increase efficiency, the glory of the entire elf race will be trampled by barbarians." His adam's apple bobbed slightly as he lied, a habitual action from past negotiations. The system panel suddenly vibrated, with the conscience value dropping from % to 3%, accompanied by a dull pain in his temples, like someone repeatedly hitting his nerves with the edge of an Excel spreadsheet. The first objection came from a young elf apprentice. The child's ears turned red with anger, shouting that "grandfather said work is to live better," but fell silent abruptly when Chen Mo unfolded the second parchment. It was a pie chart drawn with magic essence, with "Personal Growth Space" accounting for %, "God's Blessing" for %, and "Risk Compensation Fund" for only % – the decimals after the third place cleverly concealed with patterns, beyond the mathematical comprehension of the elf race. "Work 2 hours a day for consecutive days to earn the qualification to enter the Moonlight Workshop," Chen Mo accessed the system mall and exchanged three silver-plated medals using Excel Alchemy. "These are the 'Blessed Pioneer' medals. Collecting three can be exchanged for..." He paused, scanning the apprentice's waist with the carved dagger. "Any non-legendary magical item." The elf craftsmen's eartips began to tremble, a sign of elven. The system panel vibrated again, the conscience value dropping to 1%, but this time accompanied by a subtle pleasure, like the adrenaline rush from watching competitors crushed by his designs in a past life. Chen Mo suddenly realized that flowing through this young body was not just noble blood, but also a long-lost desire to control everything. As dusk fell, Chen Mo tallied the first day's achievements in his study. The Excel spreadsheet on the parchment showed that the daily magic essence output of the elf workshop jumped from 0.5 units to 3 units. At this rate, to repay the debt... He typed in the formula, the decimal point flickering in the candlelight, suddenly hearing a suppressed sob from outside the window. The young elf apprentice sat beside the fountain, shoulders trembling slightly. Chen Mo recognized the dagger at the child's waist – earlier, he mentioned it was a keepsake from his mother. The system panel popped up a prompt: ‌Detecting host experiencing compassion, conscience value increases to %.‌ "What's wrong?" His voice was harsher than expected, the apprentice hastily wiping away tears, smearing the dirt on his face into ridiculous streaks. Chen Mo reached into his pocket and pulled out a hard candy, a modern snack exchanged with system points. "Eat it. Finish drawing the design afterward. I want to see new rune arrays tomorrow." The apprentice's fingers trembled as he held the candy, the sound of the wrapper tearing resembling the crisp noise of an intern tearing up an overtime request in a past life. As Chen Mo turned away, he caught a glimpse of his reflection in the window glass, the outline of a suit overlapping with this noble body, the upward curve of his lips familiar – it was the expression he wore when announcing layoffs at the annual meeting. Deep into the night, Chen Mo lay on the creaky four-poster bed, staring at the conscience value progress bar on the ceiling. 2%, only 3% lower than the initial value, the "resistance to decrease" prompted by the system like an invisible wall. He thought of the way the craftsmen looked at him during the day, not with reverence, but with something more dangerous – suspicion. "I need to speed things up," he muttered, rolling over to fish a parchment out from the bedside table. Excel Alchemy sketched new formulas on the paper, this time designing a more intricate trap than "Moonlight Blessing." The interest rate formula for magic essence loans formed in his mind, the % annual rate requiring packaging with advanced mathematics beyond the elf race's comprehension, the title of "Millennial Heritage"... Suddenly, a heavy thud echoed from outside the window. When Chen Mo rushed out, he saw the young apprentice collapsed in the hallway, still clutching the unfinished design. The system panel vibrated violently, the conscience value inexplicably rising to 4%, accompanied by intense headaches, like countless needles piercing his temples. "Dammit," he leaned on the wall, watching the craftsmen carry the apprentice away, suddenly remembering an intern who collapsed in the pantry in a past life. He sent the child to the hospital then, turning