"What the hell is happening to me?"
His pulse hammered against his ribs. The data floating on his retinas refused to disappear, no matter how hard he blinked. Real. Undeniably, impossibly real.
"System interface? Or something else entirely..." The pieces clicked together like puzzle fragments finding their perfect fit. "My hidden talent."
Made perfect sense. Ye Yu was thirteen—two years shy of cultivation age—but cultivation talent existed from birth. Her Inferior grade was completely normal for someone her age. The ice talent, though? That made his breath catch in his throat.
Elemental abilities were rarer than diamonds. Maybe one person in ten thousand possessed such gifts. Once awakened, these talents let people crush same-level opponents like insects. Cross-level battles became not just possible, but expected.
"Martial artists can absorb Yuan Qi to slowly awaken dormant talents, but elemental users are practically mythical." His hands trembled with excitement. "My little sister is sitting on a goldmine."
But what exactly was his own freakish ability?
The interface flickered, revealing new options. Ye Yu's cultivation talent now displayed a tantalizing addition: [Replicable].
Copy her Inferior cultivation talent? The temptation hung before him like forbidden fruit within arm's reach.
Her ice talent remained frustratingly grayed out—[Unawakened]. Untouchable for now.
Should he grab her cultivation grade?
Hell no.
Inferior was still garbage tier. Better than his pathetic Novice rating, certainly, but why settle for mediocrity when the world probably held greater treasures? Patience now could mean power beyond imagination later.
After shooing Ye Yu away with gentle reassurances, he turned the scanning ability inward. Time for self-examination.
"If I can peek at her talents, surely I can see my own."
Concentration. Focus on the energy flowing through his meridians.
The interface materialized with crushing simplicity:
Name: Ye Tian
Cultivation Talent: Novice
Nothing else. No hidden abilities waiting for discovery. By this world's brutal standards, he was premium garbage—barely above ordinary civilians who possessed zero talent.
"The picture's becoming crystal clear." Strategic pieces assembled in his mind like a battle plan. "This copying ability must be the mysterious talent that killed my original body. It crossed dimensional barriers with my soul during transmigration."
Copy Talent—the power to steal others' abilities. Critical questions remained about the mechanics. Would copied talents replace his existing ones or stack together like layers? Physical contact seemed required for activation, which created obvious complications in a world where warriors could kill civilians for sport.
Still, the potential was staggering.
His strategy crystallized with diamond clarity: find a genius. Copy their cultivation talent. Escape the genetic prison of weakness forever.
Without martial artist status, the future held nothing but misery and early death.
Both parents had been warriors, killed during a routine beast extermination mission a year ago. Their deaths were statistically inevitable—this era consumed lives like a furnace burning through coal. Every family had missing pieces. Every survivor carried scars.
Linhai Base housed three hundred thousand souls. Among them, barely a thousand had achieved martial artist status. Those blessed few enjoyed privileges that ordinary citizens could only dream about: better food, safer housing, respect from everyone they met.
His deceased parents had earned those privileges through blood and sweat, killed while protecting civilians during a wilderness expedition. The base provided survivor benefits as compensation—monthly subsidies until age fifteen to ensure children didn't starve in the streets.
But the money vanished at fifteen like morning mist.
His subsidies had ended. Only Ye Yu still received support, barely enough to keep one person fed and sheltered.
Two teenagers with zero income prospects. They'd dropped out of school early to save copper coins, though education had evolved dramatically since the old world collapsed. Classes ran from nine to fifteen, teaching basic literacy, arithmetic, and beast identification. Survival knowledge, nothing more.
Their parents' inheritance would sustain them for maybe three years if they lived like monks. After that? Without cultivation success, only menial labor awaited—assuming they lived long enough to find jobs.
Working for scraps? Over his dead body.
Becoming a warrior was the only acceptable path forward.
"Time to scout potential targets."
He informed Ye Yu to stay home and lock the doors, then ventured into Linhai Base's bustling commercial district.
The main thoroughfare pulsed with foot traffic. Crowds flowed in both directions—mostly ordinary citizens with scattered martial artists moving among them like sharks through schools of minnows. The warriors radiated palpable pressure that made nearby people unconsciously step aside and breathe more carefully.
His scanning ability activated automatically within three meters, painting talent grades above every person he passed.
Inferior talent!
Inferior talent!
Novice talent!
Inferior talent!
Block after block revealed the same depressing pattern. The population was dominated by genetic mediocrity. Elementary talents appeared occasionally, usually among the warrior class strutting through crowds with barely concealed arrogance.
"Elementary talents are considered local celebrities in this backwater base."
The harsh reality made strategic sense. Linhai Base was a frontier settlement at best. The strongest resident was allegedly a Great Martial Artist—someone who'd probably possessed only Intermediate talent to reach that level through decades of grinding effort.
The cultivation hierarchy was ruthlessly rigid: Inferior talent peaked at early Martial Artist if they were lucky. Elementary talent might reach Elite Martial Artist with favorable circumstances. Intermediate talent could aspire to Great Martial Artist status through lifetime dedication. Only Advanced and higher grades could transcend those natural boundaries.
"Intermediate talent minimum. That's my baseline target. But approaching warriors directly means suicide." The danger was brutally real. Warriors could execute civilians with minimal consequences—perhaps pay a fine, serve brief detention, nothing that actually mattered. For someone without connections or backing, approaching them carelessly meant potential death or worse.
"Three hundred thousand people, but my ability only works within three meters. Random scanning would take decades."
A superior strategy emerged from tactical analysis. Identify fast-progressing martial apprentices through academy reconnaissance, investigate their talent levels discreetly, then target anyone with Intermediate grade or higher for copying.
Martial apprentices congregated at educational institutions. Linhai Base operated five academies. Anyone aged fifteen could enroll, though admission requirements varied dramatically between institutions.
First Academy demanded Elementary talent minimum or significant political connections. The other four accepted anyone capable of paying tuition fees.
Originally, his predecessor had fantasized about testing into First Academy with Elementary-level abilities. But now, even with superior talent, he wouldn't dare apply. They required talent assessment for admission processing. If his copying ability became known, researchers would dissect him alive to understand the mechanism.
The other academies offered safer infiltration opportunities.
Academy attendance was mandatory regardless of chosen institution. Without formal instruction in Body Forging Methods, martial apprentices couldn't absorb Yuan Qi properly. Only through systematic body tempering could someone develop thousand-pound strength and advance to true Martial Artist status.
The hunt for suitable prey would begin tomorrow at those schools.
[End of Chapter 2]