Lin Yu became aware of the world in fragments.
Light came first—blurred, unfocused, painfully bright. Then sound. Then warmth. The steady rise and fall of something solid beneath him.
By the time he could open his eyes properly, several months had already passed.
He learned things the way all babies did: slowly, passively, by listening.
The woman who carried him most often was called Mother—Li Qian. The man who held him more awkwardly, as if afraid he might break, was Father—Lin Cheng.
They lived in a small apartment. Not cramped, but not large either. The furniture was old but clean. The walls bore faint cracks that had been filled and repainted more than once.
Middle class.
No… slightly below.
Lin Yu understood that much instinctively.
His parents worked ordinary jobs. Office work. Fixed hours. Fixed salaries. No talk of stocks or corporations at the dinner table—only rising prices, long commutes, and occasional complaints about overtime.
A peaceful family.
A normal one.
As his body grew, his awareness sharpened. He learned this world's language effortlessly—his mind was that of an adult, even if his mouth could only babble. Television became his greatest teacher.
News. Dramas. Advertisements.
And from them, he learned something important.
This world is… normal.
No magic.
No hidden cultivation sects.
No superhumans lurking in the shadows.
Technology existed, of course—phones, computers, vehicles—but to him, it felt oddly vague. He knew what they did, how people used them, but when he tried to recall details—circuits, principles, designs—his mind slid off them like water on glass.
So that's the memory seal.
Annoying, but expected.
Years passed.
By the time Lin Yu was six, he understood his situation clearly.
This was a modern world, stable and peaceful. If he lived an ordinary life, worked an ordinary job, and died an ordinary death—
His evaluation would be mediocre at best.
World contribution determines evaluation.
That was one of the few things the Tower had not sealed.
Contribute to civilization. Accelerate progress. Change the course of the world.
That was how high grades were earned.
Lin Yu lay on his bed one night, staring at the ceiling while his parents watched television in the living room.
Invent something revolutionary?
He dismissed it immediately.
He wasn't a genius scientist. Even on Earth, he had been painfully average. And now, with key technological details sealed, trying to brute-force innovation would mean decades of study, research, failure, and exhaustion.
No thanks.
He still remembered his last life too clearly.
Nine-to-nine shifts.
Endless deadlines.
A black company that drained every drop of energy he had.
He had died before he could even enjoy the money he never had.
This time—
"I want to live properly," he muttered softly.
Enjoy good food.
Sleep without alarms.
Live without being crushed by expectations.
But he also needed results.
A high evaluation wasn't optional. It meant better rewards. More power. More authority to fight Dark Beings when he returned.
So brute-force effort was out.
That left only one thing.
His talent.
Lin Yu sat up slowly, eyes bright in the dim room.
Lies becoming truth…
Used carelessly, it would destroy the world.
Used cleverly?
It could advance it faster than any laboratory ever could.
He began to brainstorm.
Option One: Spiritual Energy Revival
Announce the return of spiritual energy.
Create myths.
Cultivation manuals.
Awakening phenomena.
Simple. Effective.
But also chaotic.
Spiritual revival would upend the entire social order. Governments would panic. Conflicts would erupt. Millions might die before things stabilized.
High contribution… but enormous risk.
Maybe later.
Option Two: A System
A universal framework.
Levels. Quests. Rewards.
"System users" could become productive, disciplined, and efficient. Society could be guided instead of overthrown.
But systems required constant belief maintenance. If people doubted it, the structure would collapse.
Too much work.
And too visible.
Option Three: Martial Arts
Safer.
Introduce hidden techniques. Physical training. Internal strength.
But martial arts scaled slowly. Even if it spread worldwide, its impact on civilization would take centuries.
Probably B-rank at best.
Option Four: Others
Faith-based miracles.
Artificial gods.
Predicted prophecies.
Manufactured legends.
Each had potential. Each had drawbacks.
Lin Yu exhaled.
"No need to rush," he whispered.
He was still a child.
The best lies were the ones that fit the world.
And for that—
He needed to understand this world better.
Its history. Its fears. Its beliefs.
What had shaken it before?
What did people already half-believe in?
What were they waiting for, even unconsciously?
Lying against the current was hard.
But lying with it?
That was easy.
Lin Yu lay back down, a small smile forming on his face.
"I'll decide later," he thought.
"After I learn what kind of world this really is."
Outside, the city lights glowed steadily—unaware that, somewhere within it, a lie capable of reshaping reality was quietly growing up.