Lin Hao did not sleep.
He spent the entire night, from the moment he achieved [Level 5: Blood Vitality] until the first gray light of dawn, sitting cross-legged on his dorm room floor. He was meditating.
He didn't need a scroll or a manual. The System had given him the power, and his body instinctively knew what to do.
With every breath, he drew in the cool, sweet Reiki from the air. He could feel the energy, those beautiful blue motes of light, infuse his blood, and with every beat of his powerful heart, he circulated it.
He sent the warm current of Qi through his [Iron Skin], making it tingle. He pushed it through his [Muscle Weaving], feeling his strength consolidate.
He let it flow through his [Tendon Connections], and his body felt like a panther, ready to uncoil. He nourished his [Bone Forged] skeleton, feeling it become harder, purer.
He was a fortress, and he was spending the night stocking the armory.
He was a "hidden boss." A Level 5 cultivator in a world where the broadcasted "pinnacle," Elder Chen, was only Level 4.
And then, his stomach growled. Loudly.
The deep, meditative trance shattered. He opened his eyes, and the feeling of divine power was immediately undercut by a very human, very sharp pang of hunger.
All that upgrading, all that circulating... his body was a high-performance engine, and he had just burned through all his fuel. He was starving.
He stood up, his joints making no sound at all, and fumbled in his drawer for his wallet. He opened it. Inside: one five-dollar bill, a two-dollar bill, and some change.
He was a Level 5 superhuman. He could punch through his desk and jump to the ceiling. And he had seven dollars. He couldn't even afford a proper breakfast.
The irony was not lost on him. The FINAL NOTICE for his $450 student loan payment was still on his laptop, a digital monster waiting to pounce.
His new, god-like power had not solved his oldest, most human problem.
He was powerful, but he was broke.
He looked at the clock on his cracked phone. 11:58 PM.
He had spent the entire day, from watching the press conference to now, in a single, unbroken meditation.
He had skipped a whole day of classes, not that it mattered. The university was in chaos; he'd heard text alerts on his phone all day announcing a "campus-wide emergency closure."
Now, he waited.
The clock ticked to 11:59 PM. He stared at his System interface, his breath held.
His entire long-term plan, the exponential loop, it all hinged on this next moment. Had he read the rules right?
The clock on his phone clicked over. 00:00.
The blue screen in his vision flashed, and a new message appeared, simple and beautiful.
[Daily UP Generation: Active.] [Ascension Bonus: Applied (x2).] [You have received 200 UP.]
Lin Hao let out the breath he was holding. It was a sigh of pure, unadulterated triumph.
It worked.
His plan had worked.
His [Upgrade Points (UP)] total, which had been a lonely 10, now read: 210 UP.
He was rich. In System currency, at least. He was already tempted to spend 100 UP on his talent, to finally get that [Waste Root].
But his stomach growled again, a low, demanding complaint.
Right. First things first.
He looked at his desk. Lying on a clean cloth, gleaming in the moonlight, was the "Qi-Guiding Blade."
His short-term plan.
He finally went to the communal bathroom, ignoring the other students huddled in the hallway, whispering in terrified, excited tones about "superpowers" and the BSA.
He took a long, hot shower, washing away the film of black, greasy impurities that caked his body.
He felt clean. He felt new.
He dressed in his "best" clothes, a pair of dark, clean jeans, his newest sneakers, and a simple, plain black t-shirt.
He didn't want to look rich, but he didn't want to look like a desperate-to-please student, either. He needed to look unremarkable.
He carefully wrapped the "Qi-Guiding Blade" in a clean, gray microfiber cloth, folding it neatly until it was just a small, rectangular bundle.
He slipped it into the inside pocket of his light jacket.
He left his dorm.
The world was not the one he had known two days ago.
The air was tense, electric. People were everywhere, even though it was the middle of the night.
The campus was lit by floodlights now, and he saw a military jeep, a military jeep, with the new, silver "BSA" dragon-and-sword logo painted on the side, parked right by the main gate.
He walked off campus, his hands in his pockets. His [Iron Skin] and [Bone Forging] made him immune to the late-night chill.
His new senses, amplified by his Level 5 cultivation, were on high alert. He could feel the "Awakened" as he walked.
They were like little sparks in his mental vision. He passed a guy on a street corner, jumping up and touching a "No Parking" sign, over and over, giggling. The guy was a [Level 1].
He saw a group of college kids by a bus stop, one of them holding a bent piece of rebar, all of them looking at him with awe. [Level 2: Adept].
They were all bright, flaring, and uncontrolled.
He, in contrast, was a deep, calm, hidden ocean. He had his Qi pulled in, circulating internally, his power completely masked. He was a true "hidden boss."
He didn't take a bus. He walked the three miles to the city's old "Antique District."
This wasn't a tourist spot. It was a grid of narrow, pre-war streets, lined with dusty shops that sold old furniture, forgotten books, and cheap jade trinkets.
The streetlights here were still out, the "solar flare" excuse in action. The only light came from the moon.
He was looking for a specific kind of place. Not a bright, flashy "Cash-4-Gold." He was looking for a shop that felt... old. A shop that might have been a bridge to the "hidden families" before the world changed.
He found it.
A small, unassuming shop on a dark corner. The wooden sign above the door was so faded, the paint was peeling. "Old Man Gu's Curios."
The windows were thick with dust, displaying a few cracked vases and a rusted, ceremonial-looking sword. A single, bare bulb lit the interior.
This was the place.
A small bell jingled as he pushed the door open.
The shop smelled of dust, old paper, and sandalwood incense. It was cramped, shelves filled to the ceiling with junk.
Behind a thick wooden counter, an old man sat on a stool, peering at a physical newspaper through a pair of round, wire-rimmed glasses. He looked up, his eyes weary and annoyed at the late-night interruption.
"We're closed," he said, his voice a gravelly bark. "And I don't buy broken electronics. The 'flare' fried everyone's junk."
Lin Hao said nothing. He just walked to the counter.
As he got closer, his Level 5 senses probed the man.
The man was not a normal human.
Underneath the tired, grandpa-like exterior, Lin Hao could feel a small, banked fire of energy. It was controlled, hidden, but it was there. It was stronger than the kids at the bus stop.
[Level 2: Adept (Muscle Weaving)].
This old man was an "Awakened." Or, more likely, he was from one of those "hidden families" all along, and was just now revealed by the Reiki pulse.
This was definitely the right place.
"I'm not here to sell junk," Lin Hao said, his voice calm and even.
The old shopkeeper, Old Man Gu, scoffed. "Then you're wasting my time, kid. I'm not buying. I'm only selling, and only for cash. Gold or silver, preferably."
He was arrogant, his new Level 2 power probably making him feel like a king in his little, dusty domain.
Lin Hao didn't argue. He didn't bargain.
He simply reached into his jacket and placed the gray, cloth-wrapped bundle on the counter.
"What's this?" the old man grumbled. "Your grandma's silverware? Not interested."
Lin Hao slowly, deliberately, unwrapped the knife.
The single, bare lightbulb in the shop seemed to dim, as if the knife was drinking the light.
The "Qi-Guiding Blade" lay on the dusty glass countertop. The handle was a pure, matte black that seemed to have no reflection.
The blade itself, in contrast, was a sharp, brilliant silver. It was impossibly clean.
And on its surface, the faint, geometric blue script could be seen, pulsing with a soft, slow light, perfectly in time with the new, Reiki-filled world.
It thrummed. A low, almost inaudible hum that made the old coins on the counter vibrate.
Old Man Gu, who had been leaning back on his stool, froze.
His eyes, which had been weary and annoyed, snapped wide open. The newspaper slipped from his fingers and fell to the floor.
His gaze was locked on the knife. His mouth fell open. He wasn't just looking at it; he was devouring it with his eyes.
Lin Hao could see the man's pupils dilate. He saw the sudden, desperate, overwhelming flash of greed.
But the greed was just as quickly replaced by something else.
Terror.
The old man's gaze shot up from the knife to Lin Hao's face. He was looking at a simple college student, a young, unremarkable kid.
But this kid had just placed a Spirit Grade Artifact on his counter.
Such a thing... it could not exist. Not yesterday. And even if it could, it wouldn't be in the hands of a kid. It would be in the hands of a monster. A Grandmaster. An Ancestor.
The old man's arrogance, his Level 2 power, all of it evaporated like water in a desert. He was staring at a dragon holding a pearl, pretending to be a common man.
He shot to his feet, knocking his stool over with a clatter. He bowed, not a small nod, but a deep, ninety-degree bow, his hands trembling.
"Young... young master!" the shopkeeper stammered, his voice a terrified, high-pitched squeak. "Forgive this old one's blind eyes! I..."
He looked at the knife, then at Lin Hao, his face pale with sweat.
"Where," he whispered, "where in the heavens did you... did you get this?"