The world came back suddenly.
It was a violent, noisy return. The sound of a distant car horn, the hum of an air conditioner from a nearby window, the feel of cold gravel under his knees. Every one of his senses, which had been numb a moment ago, now screamed to announce its presence.
Yuan Lin was gasping, as if he had just broken the surface of water, his eyes blinking in the dim light of the alley.
He stared at the shattered phone in his hand. The cracked screen no longer lit up. It was just a piece of dead glass.
But the echo remained. The echo of those last words he had seen floating in the air.
"Congratulations on the "upgrade," host."
He felt a brief moment of relief, the relief of someone who knew his connection to this insane world had not been severed. Then, it was followed by a wave of terror more intense than anything he had ever felt before.
He was trapped. And this time, there was no phone to break to escape.
The cage hadn't shattered. It had become invisible, expanding to encompass all his thoughts, all his dreams, every part of his being.
He remained kneeling on the alley floor for perhaps a full minute, frozen. He was listening. Not with his ears, but with his mind. He was waiting to hear a voice, a whisper, anything to prove he hadn't gone mad.
But there was only silence. His usual internal silence, but now it was a silence charged with anticipation, like the quiet of a room after you learn someone else is hiding in it.
This silence was more unsettling than any sound.
"Hello?" he thought, feeling stupid instantly. Is this how he was supposed to do it? Talk to it in his head?
No reply came.
"System? Are you there?" he tried again, focusing his thoughts.
Silence.
A cold sweat began to form on his forehead. Had he imagined it all? Was it just a hallucination caused by the trauma of being robbed? Was he now just a crazy person sitting in a filthy alley talking to himself?
"Show yourself!" he screamed in his mind, and this time it was a desperate scream, filled with all his fear and frustration.
As if his words were the key, a blue flicker appeared in his field of vision. The familiar transparent screen formed once again, floating directly in front of him, calm and glowing.
Yuan Lin let out a sigh of relief, a deep sigh mixed with both terror and relief. He wasn't crazy. Or at least, he wasn't alone in his madness.
He looked at the screen. It was blank, waiting for a command. He took a shaky breath and began his first "dialogue."
"You... are you inside my head now?" he thought, sending the question with hesitation.
Text appeared on the screen with mechanical smoothness.
`[The System is integrated with your neural pathways. The description "inside your head" is functionally accurate, if primitive.]`
Lin felt a shiver. Primitive. The System had called his thoughts primitive.
"Can... can you hear everything I'm thinking? Right now?" This was the most terrifying question. The idea of his last bastion of privacy being violated was unbearable.
`[The System filters for direct commands and intent-based queries. Your passive thoughts are classified as "background noise" and are not actively monitored, unless they pose a threat to System integrity. Your privacy is 73.4% guaranteed.]`
73.4%? What a precise and incredibly unsettling number. That meant there was a 26.6% chance this thing could access his dumb dreams about jammed printers.
"And this screen... can anyone else see it?"
`[The neural interface is projected directly onto your optic nerve. It is invisible to all external observers in this reality.]`
He felt a slight sense of relief. At least he wouldn't look like a madman talking to the air.
The screen suddenly vanished as another, more urgent memory interrupted his thoughts. The memory of the shove. The memory of falling. The memory of the mugger's sarcastic laugh as he snatched his wallet.
A wave of shame and anger washed over him again. He looked at his trembling hands, then at his dirt-covered knees. He had been humiliated. He had been treated like nothing.
The 100,000 Yuan in his account hadn't prevented that. The title "Lord of Chaos" hadn't prevented that. His new awareness that the System was now in his head wouldn't prevent it from happening again.
In that moment, he understood. He had been focusing on the wrong thing. He was infatuated with the money, with the easy perks. He thought power was the ability to buy things. But he was wrong.
True power... is never being in a situation like that again. Power is not being a victim.
System, he thought with a new sharpness and determination. "Show me my status."
The blue screen appeared instantly.
`[Host Name: Yuan Lin]`
`[Title: Lord of Eternal Chaos (Beginner)]`
`[Chaos Points: 0]`
`[Physical Condition: Weak (Vulnerable to physical threats)]`
`[Mental State: Volatile]`
The word "Weak" was a slap in the face. It was the cold, hard truth, written before him in merciless electronic text. He was weak. That was the reason for everything that had happened.
He slowly got to his feet. He ignored the pain in his shoulder and the dust on his pants. He looked toward the dark end of the alley, then toward the bright lights of the main street. They were two different worlds, and he had just been forced to understand the difference.
The muggers had treated him like trash and left him broken. But, without knowing it, they had given him a gift more precious than any amount of money.
They had woken him up.
He was no longer afraid of the System in his head. He no longer saw it as a cage or a curse.
It was now... his only chance.
"System", he said in his mind, his inner voice now steady and clear. Open the skills list.
A long, glowing blue list appeared before him, filled with strange and tempting names.
It wasn't just a list; it was an ocean of impossible possibilities, a sea of power shimmering with a ghostly blue light in the darkness of the alley. Each line was a legendary name, a promise of power beyond human imagination.
`[Star-Devouring Whale Art: Requires Celestial Beast Bloodline]`
`[Ninth Hell Shadow Steps: Requires "Escape from the Ghost King's Hunt" achievement]`
`[Path of the Silent Monarch: Must renounce speech forever]`
Yuan Lin read the names, feeling a mixture of awe and absolute despair. This was the power he could possess, but it was as far out of reach as the planets in the sky. He checked the requirements next to each skill. `[Chaos Points Required: 5000]`, `[Chaos Points Required: 12000]`, `[Requirement: Offer an immortal soul as sacrifice]`.
He laughed bitterly. He had zero points. He was just a human standing in an alley, his body still aching from the shove of a petty thief. The hope he had felt moments ago began to fade, replaced by a heavy realization of the gulf that separated him from these powers.
"There has to be something," he thought desperately, "something to start with. Something for beginners."
He focused his mind, hoping the System would understand his intent. "Search for skills available to beginners. Cost: zero."
The infinite list responded. It shrank and faded, leaving only three humble options floating before him.
`1. [Lesser Body Fortification - Stage 1]: Slightly strengthens bones and skin. Cost: 10 Chaos Points.`
`2. [Perception of Chaos Threads - Level 1]: Allows the host to perceive surrounding energy flows. Cost: 0 (Free first basic skill).`
`3. [Tiny Demonic Flame Seed]: Creates a small flame in the palm, with the heat of a matchstick. Cost: 5 Chaos Points.`
He looked at the three options, feeling a bitter disappointment. Was this it? After all those grand names, these were his choices? A flame with the heat of a matchstick?
His heart was immediately drawn to the first option. `[Lesser Body Fortification]`. That's what he wanted. That's what he needed. To be stronger, tougher, for his body to be able to resist another shove. But the cost was 10 points.
"If only I hadn't exchanged for the money,"he thought.
Then, a small note from the System appeared next to the first option, cold and logical.
`[Warning: Inefficient path for the current host. Estimated time to reach a level of basic physical trauma resistance: 3.7 years, based on projected point acquisition rate.]`
Three point seven years? He felt as if a bucket of ice water had been poured over him. He wanted revenge and power now, not in almost four years.
This left him with one real choice. The free one. `[Perception of Chaos Threads]`. It sounded boring and useless. What good was "perceiving threads" when someone was attacking you in an alley? He wanted armor, not new glasses.
His emotional desire warred with his cold logic.
Part of him wanted to scream at the System, to reject this "boring" path and wait until he could afford real power. But the other part, the part that had worked in tech support for years, the part that analyzed complex problems, was whispering to him. You can't build a skyscraper on a foundation of mud.
You have to understand the system before you can exploit it. You have to learn the rules of this new world before you try to break them.
He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath that filled his lungs with the foul alley air. This was his first truly important decision. A decision that would set the course for his future. Would he choose short-term, instant gratification, or slow, long-term wisdom?
With a feeling of resignation to the facts, he made his choice.
"I choose... Perception of Chaos Threads."
As soon as he sent the command, he felt a sharp, cold prick at the back of his head, like an ice needle sinking into his brain. It wasn't painful, but it was jarring.
Information flowed into his mind not as words, but as raw data, as innate concepts. The sensation lasted for a few seconds, then vanished.
Yuan Lin slowly opened his eyes.
At first, everything looked the same. The same dirty walls, the same dim streetlight.
Then, he started to notice them.
They were everywhere. Thin, delicate threads like spiderwebs, glowing with faint lights. They intertwined and flowed through everything. Most were gray and lifeless, the background "noise" of reality. But there were other threads.
He saw a faint red thread of heat leaking from an old air conditioning unit. He saw a weak, flickering green thread emanating from a small weed growing in a crack in the pavement.
He looked at his own hands. They were tangled in a chaotic mass of gray and pale blue threads—the threads of his anxious thoughts and conflicting emotions. It was confusing, overwhelming, and gave him a slight headache.
The world had suddenly become much more complex and noisy.
Finally, he forced himself to move. He left the alley and returned to the noise of the city, trying to ignore this new perception that had been forced upon his senses.
He decided to take the long way home through the public park, hoping the fresh air would help clear his head.
The park was quiet at this time of night. A few people milled about. Lin kept his new perception active, trying to get used to it. He saw faint pink threads of joy around a young couple holding hands.
He saw dark gray threads of exhaustion hanging from the shoulders of a man returning from work.
Then, he stopped.
Under an old willow tree, an old man was practicing Tai Chi. He moved very slowly, each movement flowing into the next with a smoothness and grace that belied his age. To the naked eye, it was just a calm exercise.
But to Yuan Lin, the scene was completely different.
Unlike the random chaos of threads around everyone else, the old man was... organized.
Lin saw a pale, sky-blue thread, purer and more focused than anything he had seen yet, circulating inside the old man's body in a perfect loop.
With each slow movement, the thread flowed from his feet, through his torso, to his arms, and then back again in an endless cycle. There was no chaos. There was no noise. There was only... harmony.
Yuan Lin stood watching him, completely mesmerized. He didn't know what he was seeing. But he knew one thing with absolute certainty.
This old man was not like the others. He was different.
He returned to his small apartment half an hour later and closed the door behind him, leaning against it. The feeling of safety in his own space was comforting. He went to the bathroom and looked at his reflection in the mirror.
He saw the same pale face, the same messy hair. But his eyes were different. They were no longer empty. There was a new depth in them, a sharp focus, as if he were looking at the world and at himself for the first time. He saw the bruise starting to form on his cheek, but he no longer felt shame.
It was just a reminder. A reminder of the price the weak have to pay.
He closed his eyes and focused. He could see the faint threads of electricity in the walls, and the dim thread of his own life, pulsing quietly in his chest.
The road ahead of him was unimaginably long. True power was still far out of reach. And the world was more complex and mysterious than he had ever thought.