Chapter 1

"Murphy-Stanton, guilty of unlawful entry into a private residence and negligent injury, fined two hundred thousand dollars, and sentenced to twelve months in prison..."

The side door of the state prison in Chino, California, opened, and Murphy-Stanton and his companion Ross walked out. The first thing that came to mind as they breathed the free air was the scene from a year ago. Perhaps he was the unluckiest person to be reborn, coming from the other side of the Pacific to Los Angeles, only to witness a huge tragedy instead of the legendary glamorous world. At that time, he had already been arrested by the Los Angeles police, facing multiple charges, and was eventually found guilty, spending nearly a year in a California state prison.

"What are you thinking about?"

The one who walked out of the prison with Murphy was a typical Latino, strong and muscular. He raised his tattooed hand and patted Murphy's shoulder, pointing to a car parked by the roadside, "Come on, our ride is here."

The prison was far from the city, and it wasn't easy to get a ride. Murphy nodded and followed him to the car. The two people standing in front of the car immediately smiled ingratiatingly at Ross and opened the back door for them.

Murphy didn't hesitate, and he and Ross got into the car from the left and right doors. The car started and turned, heading towards Los Angeles, fifty miles away.

The car was moving fast, especially on the highway.

After a year in prison, Murphy's entire demeanor had become more rugged. In a men's prison, someone who looked as decent as him had to become tough enough to protect himself and avoid being taken advantage of.

"What are your plans next?"

The Latino's gaze returned from the window, looking at Murphy, "Murphy, why don't you join me? I promise, dollars and beautiful women..."

"Ross," Murphy interrupted him, shaking his head, "Do you want me to sell drugs and guns with you? I don't want to go back to prison."

He said this without any hesitation. Given the bond they had formed in prison, there was no need to hold back. Murphy took a deep breath and said with absolute certainty, "I will earn dollars, and I want the most beautiful movie stars. My future is in Hollywood!"

"Poor little guy..." Ross patted his shoulder again, "Are you still living in a dream? Your house has been seized to pay the fine. What do you have to stand on in Los Angeles? Murphy, every year, tens of thousands of people come to Hollywood to chase their dreams, but how many of them actually succeed?"

Although he was once just a student at a mediocre film school on the other side of the Pacific, Murphy had studied Hollywood, the world's film center, and knew that Ross's words were not exaggerated, if anything, they were optimistic. The reality was much harsher.

How many people who came to Los Angeles ended up achieving fame and fortune? One in a thousand or one in ten thousand?

Murphy knew how difficult the path was, but the question was, if he didn't take this path, what would his future be? He was once just a student at a mediocre film school, and his only skill was film. After coming to Los Angeles in 1999 and spending a year in prison, if he didn't choose the film industry, the most familiar to him, would he really go sell drugs with Ross?

However, Ross's concerns were very real.

Turning his eyes to the window, Murphy watched the scenery fly by, and the events of his arrival in this world came back to him.

Although he had accepted the fact that he had come from the other side of the Pacific and become a twenty-year-old named Murphy-Stanton, the frustration in his heart was indescribable, especially the change in identity and language, which had driven him nearly mad at first. Merging with the original owner's memories was not a pleasant experience; it felt like someone else's thoughts were crammed into his head, as if someone was stirring his brain with their hands.

The only thing to be grateful for was that over the past year, Murphy had largely resolved the language and adaptation issues.

Shaking his head, which felt swollen, sore, and torn, Murphy couldn't help but sigh. His previous life had been tough enough, but his current situation was clearly worse.

In the merged memories, the person named Murphy-Stanton was, to put it nicely, a freelance journalist, and to put it bluntly, an unemployed person with no fixed job. He made a living by shooting random footage on the streets and selling it to local small TV stations. His financial situation was described best as impoverished and shabby. He had no special skills, and the only thing he could offer was his familiarity with the terrain and streets of Los Angeles, where he had grown up.

"Born in the slums of Los Angeles, parents died in a car accident due to alcoholism..."

Seeing Ross also deep in thought, Murphy muttered to himself, recounting the glorious history of the body's former owner, "Dropped out of public high school at sixteen; worked as a lawn mower for a month, only to get hay fever; worked as a car mechanic, but was fired for damaging a customer's car; tried to sell drugs on the streets of Los Angeles, but was too timid to succeed; stole manhole covers and airport fences, but fortunately woke up in time and wasn't caught;..."

"You really had a tough life."

Murphy repeated the phrase he had said to himself the most over the past year. Compared to now, his previous life was much better. Before, he was just a student at a mediocre film school, facing the prospect of unemployment after graduation. But now, how was he going to survive?

The former guy was undoubtedly a greedy fool. Murphy admitted he was also greedy, but he would never do something as stupid as what landed the guy in prison.

As a so-called freelance journalist, he had accepted a private detective agency's employment to photograph media mogul Sumner Redstone's personal life, even breaking into his private residence. He was caught in the act, and in the chaos, he accidentally injured a British director who was a guest at Redstone's house. Initially, paying a fine could have resolved the issue, but Redstone, feeling humiliated, personally pressured the Los Angeles police, leading to a year in prison.

A year in prison was not easy, and the scars on Murphy's body were the best proof. If not for meeting Ross, a local thug, his time might have been even worse. More importantly, the first year in this world was completely wasted.

The unfortunate guy was clearly a fool, getting involved in a conflict far beyond his capabilities and becoming a pawn.

This was the price of the original Murphy's greed and growth, but he had to bear the consequences.

Murphy admitted that these experiences were self-inflicted, and the British director he injured reportedly suffered lasting brain damage. But paying for the previous owner's mistakes was hard to accept.

Especially Sumner Redstone, who had sent him to prison. Murphy remembered clearly that due to the pressure Redstone exerted on the California justice system, not only did he end up in prison, but his house in Los Angeles was also seized to pay the fine.

Due to the harsh experience in prison, Murphy harbored resentment, but he knew that Sumner Redstone was a giant, far beyond his current reach. Such a mogul might glance at a sword-wielding dragon slayer, but he would ignore a homeless man like him.

If the Murphy from a year ago was a naive student, then a year in prison had taught him how harsh and cruel the world could be.

For a small person like him, even basic survival was not easy.

The car finally arrived in Los Angeles, not stopping in the suburbs but heading directly into the city center. Regardless of how he felt, Murphy had the memories of a native Los Angeleno and a year of personal experience, giving him some understanding of the Greater Los Angeles area. Like most places in the country, the city center was not a symbol of prosperity but of the slums.

If Murphy had to evaluate, this country was a paradise for the rich and a hell for the poor.

"Murphy, really not considering my offer?"

Ross spoke again, sometimes the bonds formed in prison were quite strong, "Hollywood isn't what you think, and it's hard for people like us to find work."

Climbing to a higher position in any circle was not easy. Hollywood was Murphy's long-term goal, but his immediate goal was how to survive in this country.

In simpler terms, it was about earning money to support himself.

He was now penniless, unsure of his next meal.

"No, Ross," Murphy didn't want to waste time in prison again and shook his head, "If I really can't make it, I'll come to you."

Selling drugs and guns was not a career he thought suited him.

"Turn right ahead..."

Recalling the route, Murphy reminded the driver, "I'll get off at the next intersection."

Although his house had been seized, the studio he used as a freelance journalist was a converted apartment from his aunt in Britain, which could also serve as a residence.

The car stopped at the intersection, and Murphy grabbed his bag, about to get out, but Ross held him back. He pointed to the person in the passenger seat and said in a commanding tone, "Give me your phone and wallet."

The person in the passenger seat hesitated but eventually handed over a Nokia phone and a black wallet. Ross took them, threw the phone to Murphy, and opened the wallet, handing over the two hundred dollars inside.

In the past, Murphy would never have accepted, but faced with harsh reality, he had few choices. He hesitated slightly but took the money and phone, nodding to Ross and saying to the person in the passenger seat, "Thanks, buddy, I'll pay you back as soon as I can."

Murphy opened the car door, got out, and turned to look at Ross inside. Ross had moved closer to the window and shouted, "If your Hollywood dream doesn't work out, don't forget you have a friend in me."

He lowered his voice slightly, "If we work together, we can rule the drug and underground gun market in the city center..."

"Wait and see!" Murphy stood by the roadside, his posture straight, his brown hair gleaming in the sunlight, and he replied confidently, "Ross, you'll soon see the name Murphy-Stanton spread across the country."

Ross didn't believe it, "That must be because you took photos of Sumner Redstone's private life."

The car slowly drove away from the intersection, and Murphy's gaze left the departing car, looking around. The buildings here were old, dilapidated, and crowded, a typical slum.

This was where he would live and survive.

Despite his grand ambitions, Murphy knew that his immediate challenge was not the distant Hollywood but how to survive.