Urban Plundering: I Corrupted The System!-Chapter 336: Trillions 1

He realized he'd been casually sitting on fifty billion like it was pocket change. That was the thing with Parker. He didn't chase to be rich. He chased weight. Power. Proof.

And this—this was proof.

He had fifty percent of Divine Fitness already. That made him half-owner of a $100B company. But now that he held Infinity Equivalent Exchange?

He could buy the rest.

He wouldn't even feel it.

But he wouldn't do it as Parker Black. No. That name couldn't show up in these circles. It was too tied to myth, to whispers, to bloodlines that lived in shadows. So instead—he'd do it through Infinity Holdings.

It'd be clean. Discreet. Strategic.

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He tilted his head slightly. "Levi. Pull up my current cash balance."

There was a pause. Then—

[$412.364 billion,] Levi responded flatly.

Parker blinked once, slowly.

Damn.

He hadn't even processed how fast it all stacked.

It started small. After Nova Entertainment, he was at $42.277 billion. Then came the shopping with the girls—$87 million in cashback or maybe more but still... barely a drop.

But then—

He dropped $15 billion at Tessa's family automotive empire.

It came back multiplied—$150 billion dropped in like a gift from the gods. Ava's $2 billion play into Summit & Wolfe brought him $20 billion. And buying Blackwood Co? That $20 billion purchase had returned $200 billion like it was nothing. He didn't even blink anymore when the numbers came in like this.

Hundreds of billions.

That used to sound fictional. Delusional. Fantasy money.

Now it was his liquidity.

He chuckled once, lips twitching into something close to satisfaction.

"Levi..."

[Yes?]

Parker leaned back like a man with no rent to pay and all the time in the world. His hand brushed over his jaw, a little smirk playing on his lips like a loaded secret. He was supposed to be reviewing system notifications, but now he was just mentally digesting how deep he sat in this game.

Back then—when life was simpler, and the most stressful thing he did was ignore phone calls from Maya— but then the system gave him Divine Fitness where he was supposed to receive neat little dividend checks from Divine Fitness.

Thirty million dollars a month. Neatly split: twenty reinvested, ten to his account. Passive income, baby and Parker hadn't even blinked when they'd told him the rest was getting pumped back into the business. Honestly, he'd just nodded like a sophisticated investor while sipping on overpriced espresso and pretending he understood stock dilution.

But truthfully?

He'd never once thought about what the company actually weighed.

Divine Fitness had always felt like a strong startup flex, not a fucking megaton corporate bomb. It wasn't until now—weeks later, with a system singing him symphonies of his wins—that he'd realized something.

This bitch was worth a hundred billion.

Hundred. Billion.

Parker blinked like the numbers had just slapped him across the face.

"… I was walking around with a billion-dollar house key and calling it a gym membership."

Hypothetically speaking—and Levi did all the hypothetical maths while sipping metaphorical tea—Parker owned 50% of Divine Fitness. Which meant, by all definitions of logic and bankability, he sat on $50 billion. Just chillin'. Like spare change in the back pocket of a rich man's jeans. If he bought the rest of the company now? He'd only be grabbing the other half. Easy peasy. But here's the thing—

"No, sir," Parker muttered, tapping the air like he was vetoing a bad Tinder bio. "A king doesn't sign things. Kings sign kingdoms."

So he had another plan—a smarter one. He wasn't gonna buy Divine Fitness personally. Nah. He was going to have Infinity Holdings do it. His shadow empire. His walking, breathing cheat code of a corporation. Because if you're gonna conquer the world, at least have a cool-ass shell company with sleek branding and zero liabilities.

"Levi," he said, eyes glowing with that delicious chaos he wore like cologne. Hundreds of billions deep. And hungry. The kind of hungry that made world leaders sweat and Wall Street twitch. Parker chuckled, dark and low. "This isn't just money anymore," he whispered. "It's momentum."

And momentum?

That was the kind of drug a Nyxilith could get addicted to.

"So… $412.364 billion, huh?" Parker muttered, a smirk curling his lips. He didn't even hesitate.

With a mental flick, he sent $300 billion directly into Infinity Holdings—clean, silent, untraceable by human means. And just like that, he was left with $112.364 billion in personal liquidity. That was the real weapon.

Why keep it sitting dead in his card when he could let it breathe magic somewhere it played like a cheat code?

His phone lit up almost instantly.