The facts proved that without clues, no matter how much you think, it’s ultimately useless.
Other than almost throwing out his back while moving goods, he achieved nothing.
He, Shi Hanfeng, was an ordinary transmigrator.
No nagging old grandpa at his side, no world-destroying system awakened, and certainly not Detective Tu Mei with sharp eyes that see through everything.
As for why he was moving goods?
It was his part-time job after class, earning some pocket money beyond basic living expenses.
It was the most suitable part-time job for him—close to the school, manageable workload, friendly staff, and even dinner included.
It was considered a welfare program specifically set up for orphan students like them who had no one to rely on.
The policy was so humane that it was unimaginable in his previous life—working up to six days a week, one hour per day at most, and you could even choose to come only one day a month, no need to request leave, and the salary was much higher than similar part-time jobs on the market.
As for why not seven days?
Sunday was a sacred, inviolable mandatory rest day, probably to prevent the country’s flowers from experiencing too much “fortune” too soon.
“Pay’s here! Pay’s here! Hanfeng, come, come, this is last month’s—1,200 yuan, count it!”
The chubby Shop Manager looked like a nimble tumbler, poking most of his body out of his cramped little office stuffed with crumpled receipts, his face full of smiles as he handed over a thin envelope.
“Thanks, Shop Manager.”
Shi Hanfeng swiftly took the envelope, pinched the crisp bills inside to feel their firm texture, gave them a quick glance, and then stuffed them decisively deep into his pants pocket.
The Shop Manager wiped sweat from his forehead, a bit of lingering fear in his voice.
“You kid, you really worked hard last month—filled up all six days every week! My heart was in my throat every day, afraid you’d go over the limit by accident. My little shop can’t stand the storm of an inspection from above.”
“But I didn’t go over, right? I’m off, Shop Manager.”
Shi Hanfeng waved, carrying his staff meal as he left the warehouse.
“Alright, be careful on the way!”
The Shop Manager’s booming reminder echoed behind him.
By the time he returned to the assigned Rental Apartment, dusk was falling. The city’s neon lights flickered through the dusty window, casting strange and colorful shadows on the peeling walls.
Ten square meters, crammed with a bed, desk, fridge, and a humming old air conditioner—this was his small home in this world.
Shi Hanfeng flopped heavily onto the soft bed that nearly swallowed him, eyes empty as he stared at the suspicious old water stain on the ceiling.
Separate medical examinations, that never-before-heard “Qimingxing Comprehensive Health Examination Center”…
Chaotic thoughts wrapped around him like water weeds.
However, his deep-seated slacker self-discipline finally prevailed, crushing this pointless mental exhaustion.
He tugged a self-mocking smile at the corner of his lips, and an ancient Eastern proverb automatically popped up in his mind.
“Since I’m here, might as well.”
As soon as this resigned thought surfaced, his tense nerves suddenly relaxed with a “snap,” like a rubber band finally breaking after being stretched too long.
The sounds of cars and voices outside the window gradually faded, melting into a chaotic background wave.
Who cares! I’m sleeping!
ZZZzzz……
The next morning, 7:30, at the school gate.
Shi Hanfeng, hair sticking up from sleep, eyes unfocused and steps unsteady, followed the equally yawning Xu Chaoyun onto the bus heading to the health examination center.
“Han, what did you do last night? You look like a female ghost sucked out all your energy.”
Xu Chaoyun slumped into the window seat, spreading himself out like a human pancake and giving Shi Hanfeng a sideways glance.
“Reflecting on life and mourning my almost-striking old back.”
Shi Hanfeng yawned, talking at the same time.
The bus engine started, slowly merging into the viscous pulse of the morning rush-hour steel river.
The chatter that filled the bus at first, after a dozen minutes, was magically replaced by a symphony of snores, rising and falling with various rhythms.
Time lost its meaning in the haze.
Until the vehicle lurched and came to a complete stop.
“We’re here! Wake up, everyone! Get off, get off, students!”
The homeroom teacher Lao Wang’s signature urging voice came from the front row, like a needle popping the bubble of drowsiness that filled the bus.
“Uh… is it morning already…”
“My neck!”
“Whose drool is this?! It’s on my jacket!”
Everyone rubbed their sleepy eyes, legs heavy as lead, yawning as they sluggishly began to disembark.
Shi Hanfeng nudged Xu Chaoyun, who was still drooling in dreamland.
“Yunzi, wake up, we’re here.”
However, when his feet touched solid ground and he looked up at the building named “Qimingxing Comprehensive Health Examination Center” before him, the drowsiness that hung in the air vanished instantly.
“Wh—at—?!”
Best buddy Xu Chaoyun let out a scream rivaling a marmot’s.
Xu Chaoyun delivered a manly elbow to Shi Hanfeng, his voice shooting up several pitches from shock.
“Han! Look! This place… it’s crazy cool OBOJ!”
Shi Hanfeng didn’t speak. He just rubbed the spot where he’d been elbowed and squinted his eyes.
No wonder everyone in the class was surprised—the appearance of this health examination center was simply too sci-fi.
It looked like a giant alien egg sac, or part of some intricate, monstrous mechanical organ.
Not a single wasted line, filled with the cold, simple beauty of futuristic technology.
The massive, nearly liquid-smooth silver structure shimmered with a cold, pure sheen in the morning sunlight.
You call this a health examination center?
With this design and atmosphere, calling it the lair of a hive mind or a secret anti-matter weapons research base would be more convincing.
But the examination process that followed was unexpectedly… mundane.
Height, weight, blood pressure, vision… blood tests… B-ultrasound, ECG…
Other than the sci-fi exterior, it was no different from a regular check-up.
Shi Hanfeng and Xu Chaoyun, along with the rest of the class, were guided through each project with assembly-line precision.
The entire experience was indistinguishable from the routine physical exams Shi Hanfeng remembered.
Just when Shi Hanfeng thought his suspicions were completely unfounded and prepared to go eat and take the bus home with everyone else—
“Shi Hanfeng, Xu Chaoyun, please wait a moment.”
A voice, deliberately sweet yet tinged with formulaic coldness, sounded from behind them.
The two stopped in their tracks and turned around in confusion.
Under the soft white light at the entrance of the corridor stood a young woman in an impeccably tailored white nurse uniform.
She was beautiful, with a perfect, textbook smile that looked like it had been pressed from a protocol manual.
But her eyes were excessively clear, and when she looked over, there was no warmth at all.
“You two students,” she nodded slightly, her movements elegant and precise, “You still have an important examination item left to complete. Please come with me.”
“Ah?!”
Xu Chaoyun scratched the back of his head in bewilderment, making his messy hair look even more like a bird’s nest.
“Missed one? No way? We followed the group the whole time! Never fell behind! And it’s already noon, if the cafeteria runs out of food, sis, I’ll cry!”
The Nurse Miss’s smile didn’t change a bit, perfect as a porcelain mask.
“There may have been a minor procedural oversight. Please rest assured, it’s just a small check-up and will be very quick—it won’t delay your meal.”
She stepped aside, making a “please” gesture.
But it pointed not to any of the hallways they had come from.
It was an even wider, quieter entrance.
The floor was covered in a material that glowed softly on its own, the walls on both sides a deep, infinite starry blue—profound, tranquil, with an indescribable allure.
“Han………………”
Xu Chaoyun subconsciously swallowed, his neck stiff as he turned toward Shi Hanfeng, his voice lowered to a trembling whisper.
“This doesn’t feel right. This path is nothing like the ones we walked before!”
Looking at this corridor leading to the “sea of stars,” then at the Nurse Miss’s flawless yet lifeless smile, the last hope in Shi Hanfeng’s heart popped like a soap bubble—”pop.”
Enough, is there even a need to overthink?
This was obviously fishy.
“Let’s go,”
Shi Hanfeng’s voice was unusually calm, with a sense of resignation.
He stepped forward first, entering the flowing starlight.
Since we’re here, might as well.
He didn’t believe someone would go to such trouble just to target two nobodies like them.
And even if something happened, could they really run away?
If you’re here, you might as well stay.
They walked through the starlit passage, their footsteps muffled by the soft floor, only the sound of breathing audible.
The nurse’s steps were silent and steady.
At the end of the corridor, a matte metal door slid open soundlessly, revealing a room so simple it was almost empty.
In the center, a metal table of the same material stood, with two fist-sized, perfectly transparent crystal balls on top, liquid light swirling slowly inside.
“Please step forward and place your right palm flat on the surface of the guiding unit.”
The nurse’s voice echoed sweetly in the empty room, like an AI prompt.
All right, so you’re not even going to pretend anymore.
Xu Chaoyun visibly shrank back, Adam’s apple bobbing as he looked at Shi Hanfeng.
Shi Hanfeng gave him a look that said, “Don’t chicken out, I’m with you,” and stepped forward first.
He took a deep breath, stretched out his right hand, and with a “might as well” resolve, pressed his palm firmly onto the cool, smooth surface of the crystal ball.
The sensation was strange.
It didn’t feel like touching cold metal, but more like pressing a palm against a statically charged bun.
A tingling current spread from his palm, tracing his nerves up his arm to his head.
Then, Shi Hanfeng felt his mind thrown into a massive, spinning vortex made of pure information.
Countless bizarre fragments, twisted symbols, and torrents of streaming data flooded violently into his consciousness!
Warped starfields, burning cities, intricate gear mechanisms, blurred giant shadows…
His ears filled with screeching, whispers, and roaring from billions of voices…
A translucent light screen refreshed endlessly before his tightly shut eyes.
[Detected compatible spiritual fluctuations…..]
[Core talent awakening in progress……]
[Parsing soul traits……]
[Congratulations! You have awakened the talent: Player Talent]
[Loading talent description……]
[Noble Fourth Calamity]: You are a noble Player in the game, enjoying normal game rules. The game can be difficult, but you do not accept stealth modifications. You are immune to malicious changes.
[Task Reward Change]: Upon completing a task, you can choose to accept the original reward or convert it into a [Game Roulette] draw or an equivalent game reward. Items/abilities from draws can be specified.
[Player Store]: You own a [Player Store] separate from normal stores. After completing your first task, the initial shelves are unlocked. The store regularly refreshes items, and higher-level shelves can be unlocked by leveling up. Store items require [Destiny Points] to purchase, and special items may require specific exchange conditions or items.
[Backpack Space]: How can a player not have a backpack?
You have your own [Player Backpack], with a capacity of 1 cubic meter. Time inside is frozen. The capacity can be expanded by leveling up or using [Space Expansion Stones].
No explanations, only these text descriptions with game-like logic.
Cold, concise, yet igniting the long-suppressed soul!
Eighteen years!
Eighteen years late, but finally, he had his own cheat.
His unreliable friend was much less calm.
Xu Chaoyun pulled his hand back, dazed, looking at his palm, then at the crystal ball, with eyes full of the “what just happened? who am I? where am I?” existential questions.
“Ugh, Han, did I not sleep well last night?”
Xu Chaoyun made a sword gesture, eyes full of pure stupidity.
“It says I awakened the Sword Dao talent—bonus to sword techniques and sword skills.”
“It’s not a dream. I got a prompt too—Player Talent, can change the rewards I get.”
So this was the truth behind the health examination.
The check-up was just a front—the real goal was talent screening and awakening.
Shi Hanfeng looked again at the stable, light-blue screen in his consciousness, especially at the [Game Roulette] icon glowing invitingly.
Then at Xu Chaoyun’s ghost-stricken face…
He held back his laughter, patting Xu Chaoyun’s stiff shoulder.
“Calm down, Yunzi………………”
He pointed at the now-dim crystal ball.
“Don’t forget what the physics teacher said: existence is reality.”
But why split people into batches?
What’s the truth of this world?
He believed someone would come to answer their many questions.
His gaze was unconsciously drawn to the Nurse Miss, standing nearby like a machine.