"Data restarting."
"Prosthetic data matching."
"Endoskeleton system resuming operation."
"Intraocular chip activated, eye implant functioning normally."
"Mechanical heart charging."
Gabe Steele seemed to have a bizarre dream. In that dream, streams of neon light crisscrossed the galaxy. He transformed into a virtual master, wandering from civilization to civilization. Behind him stood the adaptive templates of countless intelligent races. Wherever he passed, countless veterans bowed down in obeisance. Suddenly, a figure jumped out, angrily declaring, "I even sold my kidney to buy your paper figurine. I'll repay you with a tit-for-tat. You'll suffer the same fate."
Before he could even try to sell him the "enhanced reproductive gift package," the virtual divas, electronic idols, experience queens, and young women behind him swarmed over him, overwhelming him.
"Kidneys, kidneys, kidneys, give me back my kidneys—"
Gabe Steele suddenly sat up, sweat pouring down his forehead and panting heavily.
It was horrible. The virtual unit he'd developed was charging him a fee. His account was completely wiped out, and he couldn't even enter the mechanical city. To make money, he was forced to sell his body and beg for support from a wealthy woman.
The experiences of his previous life mingled with his memories, piecing together this bizarre dream.
That wealthy woman in the black leotard had a truly stunning figure, though the whip was a bit thick...
"You look like you have kidney problems," Littlefinger taunted as he operated the operating table.
"Do you want a bionic kidney, or do you want me to install Mr. Oak III?"
Gabe Steele touched his right eye, his blurry vision clearing as he focused, finally focusing on the middle-aged, balding man before him.
The Iron Sand Desert isn't a city that never sleeps, and few cyborg surgeons choose to settle in this radiation zone.
After all, with their skills, they could live comfortably in a city that never sleeps.
And Littlefinger, the cyborg surgeon, was among the top three cyborg surgeons in the Oasis.
But Gabe Steele wasn't polite to him.
"My kidneys are failing from overuse. Why are you bald? Do you use your robotic arm to fly planes every day?"
Littlefinger's face darkened, and he glared at Gabe Steele, wishing he could plunge a scalpel into his chest.
"Stop talking nonsense, check out! The prosthetic eye and the endoskeleton repair cost five thousand six hundred mechanical coins. And the three bullets in your body, one hundred each, round it up to six thousand. Do you want to pay by card or cash?"
"You're charging for the bullets! Why don't you just rob them?"
"With my skills, why would I rob them?"
"I don't have the money, I won't give you my life, and I won't let you have my backside."
"Don't be so arrogant! Believe it or not, I'll pull out the tubes in your prosthetic and turn you into a vegetable!"
Gabe Steele decisively gestured with his middle finger and ripped off several IV lines. The surgery was already done, who were you trying to fool?
"Where are you going?" Littlefinger couldn't help but ask as Gabe staggered out.
"Go to the bathroom. Are you going to eat my waste?"
In the restroom, Gabe Steele flipped on the mirror. A stream of water flowed from above, cleaning the surface and revealing a face both unfamiliar and familiar.
It was handsome with a touch of wildness. He was about twenty-five or twenty-six years old, very similar to the first version of his "Girl Killer" virtual companion. Unfortunately, this version of his "virtual companion" wasn't selling well. More accurately, it was critically acclaimed but not commercially successful.
Ironclad fact proved that even in space, a girl's wallet, like her heart, couldn't hold a candle to a wealthy woman's.
Fortunately, he learned his lesson and immediately pivoted, developing the second version of "Rich Woman Love." This turned a profit, even a fortune.
This only deepened his resolve to pursue wealthy women.
The metal patch on his palm had been surgically removed, and judging by his skin tone, he had been replaced with bionic skin.
This decorative metal implant served no purpose other than increasing the useless transformation rate.
Gabe Steele's future path was difficult. Every bit of transformation rate needed to be considered a double-edged sword. Plastic surgery was unnecessary.
After all, he was so handsome.
Overall, Gabe Steele was quite satisfied with his new body.
If you didn't look closely, you would have mistaken it for a bionic male model from the city that never sleeps.
Strength: 16, Agility: 9, Endurance: 10, Points: 0
Personal System: Slight System Transformation
Endoskeleton Strengthening (Mobility System): Your internal bones are replaced by titanium alloy mechanical bones. Although they are factory-produced goods, they still give you enough mechanical strength, strength +5 stamina +2 agility -2
Bionic Joints (Mobility System): Cooperate with the force-generating joints of the mechanical endoskeleton, with built-in micromotors that need to be charged in time. Agility +2
Universal Prosthetic Eye*1: Simple visual imaging, visual range: 300 meters (non-adjustable)
Mechanical Heart Lite (Circulatory System): An ordinary mechanical body, the body's backup energy source, requiring recharge every 12 hours.
Littlefinger, the bald man, hadn't tampered with the device. The rebuilt endoskeleton suffered only a slight loss of stamina, and the ruptured bionic joints were perfectly repaired.
This demonstrates his exceptional craftsmanship.
A secondary class upgrade grants +3 attribute points, seemingly increasing his strength, but—
"Universal prosthetic eye, Lite version for the mechanical heart. Baldy, are you a traitor?"
As he squeezed his fifth tube of nutritional paste into his mouth like toothpaste (he'd been comatose for three days, including undergoing surgery), Gabe Steele slammed the table and turned his back on him.
Littlefinger was stunned for a moment, then turned furious. "All the stuff you have on you is from the Mechanical Corps. Where can I get you an original? Are we going to rob the Legion base?"
"Besides me, where else in the oasis can you find a prosthetic doctor who can equip you with military supplies?"
Gabe Steele curled his lips, knowing the other person was telling the truth. However, this reduced his true strength by at least 30%.
He glanced around, his eyes suddenly brightening. It turned out that the old man had not only brought in a mobile operating table, but also placed a lot of information books on prosthetic doctors on it.
He reached out to take them.
Littlefinger's eyes and hands were quick. His left hand, transformed into a mechanical one, grabbed him and said coldly, "What do you want?"
"Look," Gabe Steele chuckled. "I'll learn from you."
"I remember you weren't this thick-skinned before."
"Are you showing me how thick-skinned you are?"
"You wish!"
"You only wish if you're handsome."
"You... get lost!"
Among all the secondary professions, the Cybersurgeon ranks in the top three in terms of potential. To become a Cybersurgeon, players must complete a complex chain of quests to obtain their manuscripts and officially change their profession.
Of course, there's another way: simply kill a Cybersurgeon and seize their inheritance.
However, Cybersurgeons are standard faction NPCs, cunning and cunning, either backed by gangs or employed by large corporations, and possess formidable defenses.
Even if Littlefinger had fallen to the Iron Sands Desert, he still had Black Rose, the well-connected assassin intermediary, standing behind him.
In fact, if it weren't for Black Rose's request, Littlefinger wouldn't even bother to pay her any attention.
There were countless Robot Hunters willing to serve him as their ancestor.
"What are you arguing about?"
With a series of engine crackles, a heavy motorcycle resembling the Batmobile ridden by Catwoman in Batman 3 rushed up without slowing down. The handbrake slammed three centimeters in front of the two men, and the rear wheel, as big as a truck, suddenly lifted up and slammed into the ground.
A strong gust of wind whipped Littlefinger's already sparse hair around, frightening him to the point of turning pale.
Amidst the wisps of smoke, Catwoman—no, Black Rose, in a black leather jacket—flipped her long legs, and even with a casual stance, she had the physique of a supermodel.
Littlefinger licked her without hesitation.
"The latest model, the Grass Child Hunter Blade 430, with a 9500cc engine and a 2.3-second acceleration to 350 km/h, suits you perfectly, Rose. You look so majestic sitting on it, a motorcycle goddess. Perfect, absolutely perfect!"
Black Rose ignored him, fastening the motorcycle's chain to the lathe. She walked directly to Gabe Steele, her smooth, silky right hand grasping his chin. She lowered her head and examined him intently.
He could feel her alcohol-tinged breath on his face, and the envious, resentful look from behind him.
"Looks like you've recovered well," Black Rose said, examining him like a beloved toy.
"Uh, not bad."
With his mouth pinched, Gabe Steele could only mumble. His eyes caught the other's white wrist, incredibly smooth, the veins beneath the skin like blue circuits.
Cosmetic-grade bionic transformation? Combat prosthetics aren't usually this aesthetically pleasing.
Black Rose suddenly withdrew her hand and said calmly, "Did you just have a fight?"
"He wanted to take my prosthetic transformation notes!" Littlefinger was immediately furious.
"If he wants to see it, just show it to him. Are you worried that he will steal your skills?"
"Him? If he can understand it, I will jump off the building!"
"Since he can't understand it, why don't you show it to him?"
Littlefinger was speechless for a moment. Gabe Steele left with a relieved mood.
Black clothes, chains, whip.
Gabe Steele's face changed. A rich woman is actually next to me!
(End of this chapter)