Leaving the Entrepreneurship Building.
Lu Xingye's expression did not show the slightest frustration.
On the contrary—
He looked relaxed.
Almost amused.
"He thinks I'm bragging," Lu Xingye muttered to himself as he walked down the steps.
"Fair enough."
If someone told him yesterday that a student with thirty million intended to build a mobile operating system from scratch, he would have reacted the same way.
Normal logic said it was suicide.
Industry logic said it was insanity.
Capital logic said it was impossible.
But logic had one fatal flaw—
It did not account for J.A.R.V.I.S.
Back at the apartment.
Lu Xingye locked the door, pulled the curtains shut, and sat down in front of the workstation.
The circular tattoo on the back of his left hand was faint gray—energy nearly depleted after the previous extraction. He glanced at it briefly, then ignored it.
No extraction needed this time.
This was pure software.
"J.A.R.V.I.S," he said.
"Online."
"Let's talk strategy."
The screen lit up.
"Listening."
Lu Xingye folded his arms.
"Everyone starts with apps. Tools. Small utilities. Gradual growth."
"But I don't want to crawl."
"I want to cut the root."
Silence for 0.3 seconds.
"You intend to bypass the application layer," J.A.R.V.I.S said.
"And directly control the platform."
"Yes."
"Mobile systems today look open," Lu Xingye continued calmly,
"but in reality, the lifeline is still in other people's hands."
"API control."
"Permission frameworks."
"Cloud dependencies."
"Underlying kernel governance."
"They decide who lives and who dies."
J.A.R.V.I.S projected a three-dimensional architecture diagram.
"Assessment: Developing a mobile operating system is equivalent to entering Hell difficulty for a startup."
"Failure rate: 99.97%."
Lu Xingye smiled.
"Good."
"If it wasn't hell, it wouldn't be worth doing."
He leaned forward.
"I don't want an Android fork."
"I don't want a skin."
"I don't want compatibility dependence."
"I want a clean system."
"Minimal kernel."
"Native AI scheduling."
"Permission isolation from the hardware layer upward."
"A system designed after artificial intelligence exists—not patched onto it."
The room was silent.
Then—
"Understood," J.A.R.V.I.S replied.
"Proposing: SuiOS."
The name appeared on the screen.
SuiOS
—Ignition System.
Lu Xingye's pupils contracted slightly.
"Show me."
The monitors exploded with motion.
Kernel logic diagrams unfolded.
Process schedulers reorganized themselves.
Memory management rules rewrote dynamically.
"This system does not rely on traditional task scheduling," J.A.R.V.I.S explained.
"AI-mediated predictive execution replaces priority queues."
"Energy consumption reduced by 37%."
"Latency reduced by 41%."
"Security surface reduced by 68%."
Lu Xingye's breathing slowed.
This wasn't theory.
This was already 90% complete.
"Timeline?" he asked.
"Core kernel: 72 hours."
"Developer framework: 7 days."
"Basic app ecosystem simulation: 14 days."
Lu Xingye laughed softly.
"Then Teacher He can wait a bit."
That night.
Suihuo Technology officially entered silent mode.
No press.
No announcements.
No recruitment ads.
Only one rented apartment glowing deep into the night.
Lines of code scrolled endlessly.
J.A.R.V.I.S optimized.
Deleted.
Rebuilt.
Improved.
Lu Xingye did not sleep.
He ate, charged his body, watched the tattoo slowly darken, then continued working.
This was not entrepreneurship.
This was foundation laying.
Three days later.
Yan University.
Entrepreneurship College.
He Chendong was drinking tea when his phone vibrated.
A message from an unknown number.
Lu Xingye:
"Teacher He, I've brought the mobile operating system."
"May I trouble you to take a look?"
He Chendong froze.
Then frowned.
Still playing this game?
He sighed, typed back reluctantly.
"Bring it tomorrow afternoon."
He put down his phone, shaking his head.
"Kids these days…"
He had no idea—
That the thing about to be placed on his desk tomorrow
was not a student project.
But the fuse of a technological earthquake.
High above the city.
Suihuo Technology had chosen its path.
Not a road.
Not a bridge.
But a descent.
Straight into Hell.
And from Hell—
It would rebuild the world.