Lin Hao stood in the cold, silent center of his warehouse, his mind a battlefield of cold calculation and burning frustration.
[Target: Lin Meng | Upgrade Cost: 50,000 UP]
The number was a fortress wall. His 17,130 UP was not enough. His plan to save his sister with a single, grand, god-like gift had shattered against the brutal, uncaring 100x multiplier of the System.
He was a [Level 7] cultivator, and he was useless.
"No."
He snarled the word into the empty darkness. He was not useless. He was panicked. He was being sentimental.
He was a planner.
His first plan, a direct, brute-force talent upgrade had failed. He would make a new one.
He analyzed the core problem. What was the immediate danger? It wasn't his sister's [Level 3: Inferior Root]. That was her strength.
The danger was her naivete. The danger was her lack of control.
She was a [Level 3] talent with a [Level 1] cultivation, and zero training. She was, as Chen Long had so arrogantly put it, a "child with a hammer." She was a danger to herself and a flashing, neon target for the BSA.
He couldn't upgrade her talent (hardware).
But he could, and would, upgrade her software.
"I can't make her a prodigy," he muttered, his mind clicking into a new, cold, tactical gear. "But I can give her protection. I can give her control."
He couldn't gift her his own High-Grade "Azure Ocean Divine Chant". The 100x cost would be astronomical, and the technique was far too powerful for a [Level 1] body to even attempt.
He needed a new Gongfa. A simple one.
He strode to the small, sad pile of supplies he'd bought with his mortal money. He had a generator, a mini-fridge, and a duffel bag of "care package" items he'd intended to give his family as a cover story.
He rummaged past the snacks and vitamins and pulled out two items.
The first was a cheap, $15 paperback: "Yoga Basics for Stress Relief." He had bought it as a joke for his mother.
The second was a small, expensive, vacuum-sealed box of "Premium Korean Ginseng Root," which he'd bought for his father's health.
They were mundane, mortal gifts. They were also the perfect raw materials.
He placed his hand on the flimsy "Yoga Basics" book.
"System," he commanded. "Open $Object Upgrade$."
[Mortal Manual: 'Yoga Basics'] [Details: A simplified, 20-pose guide to stretching. 100% mortal. Worthless.]
This was his new path. Not a "copy" function. Creation.
[Upgrade: Low-Grade Spirit Tier Gongfa: 'Clear Water Chant']? (Cost: 100 UP)
The cost was a joke. 100 UP. It was the same, base-level price as his own first Gongfa, the "Azure Origin Chant."
"Confirm."
[Deducting 100 UP. 17,030 UP Remaining.]
He didn't receive a flood of information. Instead, the book in his hand changed.
A faint, blue-white light enveloped the cheap, pulpy paperback. The cover, which had featured a smiling woman in a yoga pose, warped. The colors ran, and the image was replaced by a simple, elegant, calligraphic drawing of a single, flowing river.
The title, "Yoga Basics," morphed. It was now: "Clear Water Chant."
He flipped it open. The silly, mundane diagrams of stretches were gone. In their place were new, complex, but clear runic diagrams, showing the 36 basic pathways for Qi circulation. It was a real Gongfa. A physical, giftable object.
This would give her control. This would hide her. It was a simple, subtle, defensive Gongfa, designed to circulate Qi internally, without the flashy, arrogant "aura" of a "Raging Lion." It was perfect.
He closed the book.
Now, for protection.
He picked up the box of dried, gnarled ginseng root.
[Mortal Herbs (Ginseng Root)] [Details: High-quality mortal-grade root. Contains trace amounts of vital energy. Weak.] [Upgrade: Low-Grade Spirit Tier Healing Pills (x12)]? (Cost: 500 UP)
500 UP. This was a real investment. But as he remembered the blood on the library steps, the mangled leg of the BSA guard, he knew it was nothing.
"Confirm."
[Deducting 500 UP. 16,530 UP Remaining.]
A wave of intense, dry heat suddenly blasted from the cardboard box. It became a miniature furnace, glowing a dull red for three seconds.
Psssssh.
The heat vanished. He opened the box.
The gnarled, woody, brown roots were gone.
In their place, nestled in the box's velvet lining, were twelve small, perfectly round, pearl-white pills.
They were glowing. A faint, soft, white light. And the smell... it wasn't the earthy, bitter smell of ginseng. It was a sweet, profound, spiritual aroma, like a field of impossible, divine flowers. The scent alone made his [Level 7] body feel refreshed.
He stared at the pills. These weren't "mortal" healing. These were cultivator healing. A single one could probably regrow a severed finger or heal a broken bone in minutes.
He had it. He had his "Gift (Part 2)."
He checked his final balance. [Total UP: 16,530].
The 50,000 UP for his sister's talent was still a distant, looming mountain. But it no longer felt impossible.
He had a Gongfa to make her safe. He had pills to make her invincible.
He had a plan.