Lin Hao stood in the charged silence of his room, his mind a steel trap of calculation. The chaos outside, the sirens, the shouts, the distant helicopter was just a backdrop. He had a plan.
The long-term plan was set: the "Ascension Bonus." He would invest a small amount in the world every single day, and his personal UP gain would compound exponentially. It was a flawless, long-term strategy for ultimate power.
But he still had immediate, real-world problems.
The sirens outside were a stark reminder that the world had just become a much stranger, and probably more dangerous, place. His "Iron Skin" was a good start, but it was just that, skin. He needed protection. He needed a weapon.
And more than that, he still needed money.
His student loan, his empty bank account, his part-time job that paid minimum wage, those problems hadn't magically vanished with the Reiki pulse. The "Ascension Bonus" would make him a god in a few months, but it wouldn't pay his overdue bill tomorrow.
He needed a short-term plan. He needed capital, and he needed a weapon. He could solve both at the same time.
He mentally opened his System interface, his eyes falling on his current UP total.
[Upgrade Points (UP): 90]
He had 100, spent 10 on his [Iron Skin]. Now he had 90 points left to work with. He had already committed 10 of those to the [World Upgrade] at midnight, but he still had them now.
He'd already investigated the [$Object Upgrade$] tab. The "Qi-Gathering Turbine" (50 UP) and the "Knowledge Tome" (100 UP) were far too expensive. They were luxuries, not necessities.
But the first item he'd seen, the pen, had been cheap. Only 10 UP.
He needed to find something else. Something cheap, but with potential.
He turned on his cracked phone's flashlight and rummaged through the cluttered drawer of his desk. It was a graveyard of old cables, dried-out markers, loose change, and crumpled receipts.
His fingers brushed against cold plastic. He pulled it out.
It was a small, cheap fruit knife. He'd bought it for a dollar at a discount store so he could cut apples in his room.
The blade was flimsy, stainless steel, about four inches long. It even had a few tiny, orange-brown spots of rust near the hilt where he hadn't dried it properly. The handle was a hollow, ugly, beige-colored plastic.
It was, in every sense of the word, junk.
It was perfect.
He held the knife in his left hand, the one that hadn't punched a hole in his desk. He focused his will. "System. Open $Object Upgrade$."
The blue screen appeared, instantly analyzing the item in his hand.
[Object: Cheap Kitchen Knife (Mortal Grade)] [Details: A mass-produced cutting tool. Low-quality steel, dull edge, rust forming. Handle is brittle plastic.]
Lin Hao's heart beat a little faster. He knew what was coming.
[Upgrade: Low-Grade Spirit Grade Artifact (Qi-Guiding Blade)]? (Cost: 10 UP)
Ten UP.
It was a beautiful number. It was the same cost as his own [Iron Skin] upgrade. It was a small, calculated risk. He would be "spending" one of the points he had earmarked for his talent upgrade, but this was a necessary investment.
He needed to test this feature, and he desperately needed the result.
"Yes," he thought, his will firm. "Confirm."
[Deducting 10 UP. 80 UP Remaining.]
[Upgrading Object: Kitchen Knife...]
The reaction was instantaneous and violent.
"Hot!"
Lin Hao yelped and dropped the knife on his desk.
It had suddenly, impossibly, heated to the temperature of a glowing stove element. The moment it left his hand, a high-pitched SHIIIIING sound filled the room, a pure, metallic note that vibrated in his bones.
In the beam of his phone's flashlight, he watched it transform.
The ugly, beige plastic handle didn't just melt, it ignited, flaring up for one bright-yellow second before the fire collapsed in on itself, reforming into a new shape.
The new handle was a sleek, matte-black material that looked like polished obsidian, perfectly contoured to a hand.
The blade was even more dramatic. The dull, cheap steel began to glow, first a cherry red, then a blinding white-hot. The tiny orange rust spots didn't fade; they vaporized, vanishing like drops of water on a hot skillet.
The blade itself seemed to resize, becoming a fraction of an inch longer, its edge thinning down to something impossibly sharp.
Then, as the white-hot glow began to fade, something new appeared. Faint, glowing blue lines, the same color as the System interface, flickered into existence on the flat of the blade.
They weren't words or pictures, but a complex, geometric pattern that looked like a circuit board designed by an ancient god.
The high-pitched sound faded. The light dimmed. The knife lay on his desk, steaming slightly in the cool air.
Lin Hao stared at it for a long second before daring to reach out. He touched the black handle. It was cool.
He picked it up.
The change was breathtaking. It looked like a knife, but it felt like something else entirely. It was light, but the balance was perfect, as if it were an extension of his arm. And it was thrumming.
He could feel a faint, steady vibration from it, a low-level hum that seemed to be in perfect harmony with the new Reiki-filled air in his room. It was drinking in the spiritual energy, all on its own.
This was no longer a kitchen tool. This was a weapon.
He had to know. How sharp was it?
His eyes darted around the room. He saw the splintered hole his fist had made in his desk. He didn't want to damage it further.
Then his gaze landed on the source of all his academic misery, the Digital Control Systems textbook.
He picked it up. He hated this book.
He held the newly christened "Qi-Guiding Blade" in his other hand. He didn't slash. He didn't chop. He... touched the razor-sharp edge to the top corner of the thick, 500-page book and applied the slightest bit of pressure.
Sssssst.
There was almost no sound. The corner of the book, a solid two inches of paper, fell away.
It didn't tear. It didn't rip. It was cut.
Lin Hao stared, dumbfounded. The cut was perfectly, mathematically straight. The newly-exposed cross-section of the pages was as smooth as polished glass.
This blade could cut through a book with the ease of a hot knife through butter. What could it do to flesh and bone?
A cold shiver, this one unrelated to the Reiki, ran down his spine. This... this was a treasure.
He thought about the pawn shop from his initial, half-baked plans. He had planned to sell a Spirit Grade knife, yes, but this was real.
What would a "hidden family" Grandmaster, like that old monk he'd imagined, pay for a weapon that could channel Reiki? What would the government pay?
This wasn't just a knife. This was a life-changing sum of money.
"This," he whispered, his voice thick with awe, "this could buy my family a house."
He looked at the blade, gleaming in the beam of his phone. He looked at the [Upgrade Points (UP): 80] floating in his vision.
He had protection. He had a long-term plan. And now, he had his "seed money" for the real world.
The game had just leveled up.