The scar-faced man's expression freezes harder than the air around him.
The endless, howling cold wind is a cage.
The swirling blizzard of snowflakes envelops him completely. He tries to move, to unleash his D-level strength, but his qi feels sluggish, his muscles locked.
The flurry dies down as suddenly as it began.
Where a powerful martial artist once stood, there is now only a statue. A man frozen in a snarl of defiance, encased in a thick, clear shell of ice.
Not a crack.
Not a breath.
"Monster…" Officer Nelson whispers, wiping sweat from his brow despite the sub-zero temperature still clinging to the air. The sheer, effortless power on display is terrifying.
This is the kind of woman, Whitney Olson is.
"Round up the rest!" Nelson barks, finding his voice. "Take them all in! Now!"
Just like that, the crew from the Blue Power Plant, tough, armed, confident men are disarmed, cuffed, and led away without another fight.
Their boss is a human popsicle. Their morale is shattered.
---
Back at the police station, Bertram is enjoying a cup of surprisingly decent hot tea in his secure room when the surge hits.
Information floods his mind, crisp and system-like.
[Reshape Destiny: Confronted by an overwhelming threat, you chose a preemptive strike. You utilized unorthodox methods (legal authority) to neutralize the opposition without direct combat. This significant alteration of your fate meets the criteria for Destiny Reshaping.]
[Your accumulated life experiences and martial insights from the simulated timeline are now merging with your current self.]
[Simulation Difficulty: Easy.]
[You have received one Random Reward.]
[Reward Acquired: Martial Arts Talent Upgrade Stone.]
[Effect: Permanently elevates the host's martial arts talent by one level. Has a minor chance to awaken a unique martial arts physique.]
[This simulation cycle has ended.]
[Next simulation available in: 24 hours.]
First, the memories integrate.
Bertram feels a week's worth of brutal, focused grind from the simulated timeline slam into his muscles and nerves.
The endless sparring sessions at the gym, taking hits, learning to read opponents, refining his footwork.
His combat instincts, already honed by the Dawn Army simulation, sharpen further. He feels twice as ready, twice as dangerous.
It was that mysterious girl, losing to her in ten moves lit a fire under him, pushed him to this new level.
Next, the psychic energy in his mind churns and solidifies. He flexes a finger. A silver thread, gleaming and taut, shoots out to a length of four feet.
With a thought, it whips around a ceramic cup on the table, coiling tight. When it releases, a hair-thin scratch is etched into the glaze.
The power is real. Tangible. The potential of psychic abilities is no joke.
In the simulation, he'd pushed his Silver Threads to five feet.
The fact that it's only four now means his understanding is there, but his raw mental energy, his cultivation in this ability hasn't caught up.
With steady practice, he could hit five feet in four or five days.
With a proper meditation manual? Half that time.
With a mental energy supplement? Maybe half an hour.
Resources. Everything comes down to resources, Bertram thinks, a mix of frustration and determination burning in his gut.
His hand closes around the new crystal that materialized in his palm. Warm to the touch, humming with potential.
This is the second crystal. The first unlocked his psychic ability. This one… this one changes everything.
"I never thought something like this existed," he murmurs, his voice thick with excitement.
All his life, he's been shackled by his F-level talent, knowing his ceiling was pitifully low.
Even with a lifetime of simulations, breaking through to E-rank would have been a monumental task.
But this stone shatters that limit. One level up. From F to E. And it's just the first one. If he can get more…
A wild, blazing hope ignites in his chest. E-rank talent.
Then D. Then C… It's not impossible. One day, even the legendary S-rank might not be a dream.
He can't wait. The crystal feels like it's burning in his hand. He needs to use it. Now.
The crystal dissolves in his grip, transforming into a river of molten light that pours into his palm and up his arm.
The sensation is electric, then volcanic.
Inside his body, a revolution begins. His flesh trembles, muscles fibers rewriting themselves at a cellular level.
His blood boils, then surges with a new, ferocious intensity.
The sound it makes as it pounds through his veins is like war drums in the deep of his chest.. thump-thump-THUMP.
Amidst the drumming, a sharper sound rises: the clang of metal on metal, a faint ringing from within his very bones.
A sharp, cutting sensation prickles under his skin.
It feels like swords are being forged in his marrow, their nascent edges straining to pierce outward, to cut through mortality itself.
A notification blazes in his mind's eye:
[Congratulations. Martial Arts Talent upgraded to: E-level.]
[Special Constitution Awakened: Void Valley Sword Body.]
The description follows.
This constitution forms a 'Void Valley' within his dantian, an empty, resonant space designed for one purpose: to nurture and house pure sword energy.
Bertram's focus drops inward. Below his navel, where his core energy gathers, there is indeed a new sensation.
A deep, hollow space, vast and quiet.
And within that void, a faint, sharp presence stirs. It's minute, just a wisp, but it's unmistakable. The first seed of sword energy, already taking root.
Sword energy… The thought sends a thrill through him.
That's advanced stuff. Normally, only martial artists at D-rank or higher, with years of dedicated swordsmanship, can even begin to cultivate it.
Yet here he is, at F-rank, with a body built to generate it from the ground up.
The valley is empty now, but he can feel the potential humming within it.
He estimates that within a day, without even trying, the first true strand of destructive sword energy will coalesce.
Sword energy is legendary for its pure, piercing lethality.
With it, his combat power won't just improve, it will leap.
His martial prowess alone could jump from a baseline F-rank to what's called F-rank+.
Each rank has its tiers: Ordinary, Plus (+), and Double Plus (++).
Before this, Bertram was the bottom of the barrel, an ordinary F-rank, the weakest of the weak.
Now, a path to the Plus tier is literally forming inside him.
As he revels in this shocking upgrade, noise filters in from outside his room, boots on polished floors, gruff voices, the clatter of equipment.
The raiding party is back.
Even without asking, Bertram knows the result. His simulation foretold it. They caught them all.
"They're in custody," Officer Nelson's voice barks in the hallway, thick with authority now. "Now we crack them open. We find out where they stashed the girl. When it comes to interrogation…" Nelson's tone drops, becoming dangerously confident. "...no one holds out against me for more than thirty minutes."
"Miss Whitney, if you'd care to observe," Nelson adds, his voice shifting to oily deference. Bertram can picture him bowing slightly to the cold, beautiful girl.
There's a bustle as an interrogation room is prepared. Then, footsteps approach Bertram's door. The officer who'd been stationed outside speaks in a low voice.
"Chief, about the student informant…"
Nelson cuts him off. "His information served its purpose. The breakthrough now comes from the prisoners. The student… can be released. Actually, wait."
A pause. "I'll handle it. You stay out here. No interruptions."
The door opens, and Officer Nelson waddles in, shutting it firmly behind him. His round face is arranged into a fatherly, grateful smile.
"Young man," he begins, settling heavily into the chair opposite Bertram. "Your courage made all the difference. Because of you, we apprehended those criminals in record time. The city owes you thanks."
"Congratulations on the successful operation, Chief," Bertram replies cautiously, watching the man's eyes. There's something else here.
"You know," Nelson continues, leaning forward conspiratorially, his smile not reaching his eyes. "A young man like you, about to graduate… the world can be a dangerous place. It might be beneficial… to make a deal."
"A deal?" Bertram's guard goes up.
"Indeed. The information you provided was invaluable. But for your own safety, and for the… simplicity of our official report, it would be best if the source of that information remained anonymous. If you could allow this station to take full credit for the investigative breakthrough… well, I'm prepared to offer you substantial compensation." Nelson lays his cards on the table.
He wants to buy Bertram's silence and claim the glory for himself and his department.