The world outside was a rising tide of chaos.
Lin Hao could hear them clearly now. Shouts in the hallway, the pounding of feet on the stairs. "What did you feel?" "It's a blackout!" "My laptop is fried!" And underneath it all, the unending, discordant symphony of a hundred car alarms wailing in the night.
He had done this. With one thought, he had thrown his entire campus—no, his entire world—into a state of panic. The cold, sharp fear of that realization was still there, a knot of ice in his stomach. He was responsible.
But as he stood in his dark, silent room, another feeling was pushing that fear aside. It was a hot, electric thrill that started in his chest and spread to his fingertips.
Because in front of his eyes, the calm, steady, holographic blue screen displayed the one thing that mattered.
[Upgrade Points (UP): 100]
He wasn't just responsible. He was powerful.
This was it. This was the currency. This was the capital he would use to rebuild his life, to climb out of the hole he was in. The loan, the failed exam... they already seemed like problems from a different lifetime.
His breath was shaking, but his mind was sharp. The shouting outside, the car alarms, the darkness, it all faded into a distant background hum. There was only him and the System.
"Okay. Okay, first step."
He didn't need to think about it. He knew exactly what he had to do. While the rest of the world was running around in confusion, he was going to act.
He mentally focused on the [$Self Upgrade$] tab.
The screen flickered, displaying his potential. His eyes skipped past his "Level 1: Mortal Root" and the staggering 100 UP cost to upgrade it. That was a problem for later.
His gaze locked onto the very first option, the one that had been a useless fantasy just ten minutes ago. Now, it was a shining, tangible promise.
[Cultivation: Uninitiated] [Upgrade: Level 1: Novice (Iron Skin)]? (Cost: 10 UP)
Ten points. He had one hundred. It was a tenth of his "daily salary," a small investment.
What would "Iron Skin" even do? Make his skin tougher? He thought about the rabid dogs from his novel outline, about the thugs, about a world that was certainly about to get much, much stranger. A little toughness sounded like a very good idea.
He didn't hesitate. This was the first step on a ladder that led to the heavens, and he was going to take it.
He took a deep, steadying breath, and with all the force of his will, he gave the mental command.
"Yes. Upgrade."
[Deducting 10 UP. 90 UP Remaining.] [Upgrading Host to Level 1: Novice (Iron Skin)...]
The moment the command was confirmed, it happened.
It wasn't a gentle, passive warmth like the Reiki awakening. This was an active, powerful, internal event. It felt like a cup of boiling water had been injected directly into his chest, just below his sternum. The heat exploded outward, a wave of surging energy that flooded his veins.
"Gah—!"
He gasped, his back arching. It wasn't pain. It was... too much. It was an overwhelming sensation of life.
He could feel the hot current rush down his arms, into his palms, and all the way to his fingertips. It branched down his legs, making his muscles twitch and contract. It flooded his stomach, his back, his neck.
And then it reached his skin.
The "prickling" sensation from before was a gentle rain. This was a hailstorm. It felt as if every single pore on his body had opened and was now being infused with liquid fire. He could feel his skin tightening, his muscles coiling, his entire body compacting, becoming... denser.
ar his own blood roaring in his ears, a powerful, rhythmic thump-thump-thump that was stronger and faster than any heartbeat he'd ever felt.
The entire process lasted maybe fifteen seconds, but it felt like an eternity.
Then, as quickly as it began, it was over.
The intense heat receded, sinking back into his center, leaving him breathing hard in the darkness. He was covered in a thin, greasy layer of sweat that smelled... wrong. It was metallic and sour. He realized with a jolt that the system had just forced impurities out of his body.
He felt... incredible.
He lifted his hands in front of his face. He couldn't see them in the dark, but he could feel them. He clenched his fists.
The feeling was wrong. In the best possible way.
It no longer felt like he was clenching a normal hand of flesh and bone. It felt like he was squeezing a tightly-wrapped bundle of leather and steel cables. His grip was immense, the sheer power contained in his forearm was something he had never imagined. He felt solid. He felt strong.
"This..." he whispered, his voice hoarse. "This is power."
He needed to know. He needed to test it.
He looked around his dark room. His eyes fell on the one, unchanging object of his misery: his desk.
The desk where he had stared at his 'F' grade. The desk where he had read the FINAL NOTICE. The desk represented his prison of cheap particle board and societal expectations.
A wild, almost giddy impulse seized him.
He stood up. He pulled back his right fist, not in a wide, telegraphed arc, but in a short, tight, controlled motion. He put his new, solid weight into it.
And he punched.
THUD.
The sound was not the hollow thwack of a fist hitting cheap wood. It was a deep, solid, meaty impact. It was the sound of something unyielding hitting something weak.
He felt the impact jar his arm, but there was no pain. None. His knuckles, which should have been screaming, felt... fine. A little tingly, but completely unharmed.
He pulled his hand back.
He stood there for a second in the dark, his heart pounding.
He fumbled for his phone, the one with the newly-cracked screen. He turned on its flashlight. The bright, white beam cut through the darkness and landed on his desk.
Lin Hao's breath caught in his throat.
There, on the dark, fake-wood surface, was a perfect, clear indentation of his four knuckles. It was sunk at least a quarter-inch deep. The cheap particle board around the impact site was splintered and raised, a small crater of raw, pulped wood.
He had just punched a hole in his desk. Casually.
His hand was fine. He turned it over in the flashlight beam. Not a scratch. Not a bruise. Not even a red mark.
A laugh bubbled up from his chest. It was a strange, slightly hysterical sound, half-gasp, half-cackle.
It was real. The System was real. The power was real.
He was high on it, drunk on the feeling of control. He immediately turned his mental gaze back to the System, his mind racing.
The [$Self Upgrade$] tab was still open.
[Host: Lin Hao] [Cultivation: Level 1: Novice (Iron Skin)] [Upgrade Points (UP): 90]
The next option was already available.
[Upgrade: Level 2: Adept (Muscle Weaving)]? (Cost: 10 UP)
His eyes went wide. He had 90 points left. He could do it again. And again. He mentally scanned the next options, his excitement building.
[Upgrade: Level 3: Expert (Tendon Connection)]? (Cost: 10 UP) [Upgrade: Level 4: Grandmaster (Bone Forging)]? (Cost: 10 UP)
He did the math in a split second. "They... they all cost 10 points?"
Ten for Level 2. Ten for Level 3. Ten for Level 4.
He had 90 UP. He could spend 30 more points right now and instantly reach "Level 4: Grandmaster."
He knew what that meant. From his own outline, from his research, that was the absolute peak of the old Mortal Plane. The level of that hidden monk, Elder Chen. In less than a minute, he could become one of the most powerful martial artists on the entire planet.
All the chaos outside? The confusion? He would be above it. He would be strong enough to handle anything.
His mind screamed at him. Do it! Upgrade! Upgrade! Upgrade!
He was so close to giving the command. His will was poised, ready to spend the points and feel that incredible rush of power again, and again...
...But he stopped.
A single, cold, rational thought cut through the adrenaline like ice.
Why?
Why was it so cheap?
He looked back at the screen. 10 UP to become a Grandmaster. But it cost 100 UP... just to upgrade his talent from "Mortal" to "Waste."
The System was sending him a message. It was practically screaming at him.
His talent, his fundamental potential, was ten times more valuable than his current realm.
He'd read enough novels to know this trap. The arrogant young masters who rushed their cultivation, who built their towers on sand. They always hit a bottleneck they could never break. They always lost to the protagonist who had a "flawless foundation."
He, Lin Hao, had been given the ultimate tool for building a flawless foundation. And his first instinct was to... ignore it and rush his level?
He thought about his failed exam. He had failed because he'd crammed at the last minute. He hadn't built a proper foundation of knowledge. He had been stressed, scattered, and impulsive.
He was not going to make that mistake again. Not with this.
"No." He whispered the word out loud, forcing his own ambition back down. "No. I'm a planner. I failed my life before because I didn't plan. This is my second chance. I am not going to ruin it on day one."
He was in a dark, powerless dorm room. His phone was cracked. The fan was broken. He was a "Level 1: Novice" in a world that had just been turned upside down.
But he had 90 UP.
And he had a brain.
He needed to understand this system. All of it. What was the point of the $Object Upgrade$? Why did the $World Upgrade$ tab even exist? What was the "Ascension Bonus" his outline mentioned?
He had power. Now, he needed knowledge.
This wasn't a sprint. This was a marathon.
He looked at his 90 UP, and for the first time, he didn't see it as a means to an immediate end. He saw it as a resource to be managed.
For now, "Iron Skin" and a hole in his desk were more than enough.