Lin Hao didn't wait for the flashing lights to get closer. He didn't wait for Captain Wu to ask a second, more probing, question.
He just... left.
While the BSA tactical team was focused on securing the scene, and the medics were swarming the actual victims, Lin Hao, the "traumatized, newly Awakened hero", was allowed to limp away into the shadows of the quad.
The limp, the "shock," the "exhaustion", he maintained the performance for a full five hundred meters, until he was past the campus checkpoints and the last set of prying eyes.
The second he turned the corner onto a dark, empty street, he dropped the act.
His limp vanished. His "panting" stopped. His [Level 6]-enhanced body, which had been faking weakness, surged with its true, effortless power.
He didn't run. He fled, a silent, grim-covered ghost, moving through the pre-dawn darkness of the city. He was a blur, taking shortcuts through alleys and over rooftops, his [Level 6] body a perfect, silent, parkour machine.
He arrived back at his warehouse in under three minutes, vaulting the chain-link fence and slipping through the small maintenance door he'd left unlocked.
He was home.
Clang.
He slammed the heavy steel door, the sound echoing in the vast, 12,000-square-foot darkness. He engaged the deadbolt.
He was alone. He was safe.
He stood in the center of the vast, concrete floor, his chest heaving, but not from exertion. The adrenaline from the performance was gone. The cold, clinical focus was gone.
And now, finally, the shake hit him.
It wasn't for himself. He had never, not for one instant, been in any danger.
He was shaken by the implications.
Those dogs. They weren't just a "minor mutation." They were lethal. They were fast, strong, and packed with a supernatural rage. They had torn through two armed, [Level 2: Adept] BSA guards like they were paper. They had almost broken through reinforced library glass.
And this was Day Three.
This was in a major, well-lit, populated university campus.
His mind, a cold, sharp, planning instrument, made the next, agonizingly obvious leap.
What about his parents?
What about his 16-year-old sister?
They lived in a quiet, undefended suburban neighborhood. A place with flimsy wooden fences and sliding glass doors. A place with no BSA guards, no "A-Teams."
What would happen when a pack of those things, or worse, something smarter, wandered into their neighborhood?
His parents weren't cultivators. They weren't even Level 1 Awakened. They were mortals. They were fragile.
His father, Lin Wen, with his a chronic bad back from forty years of lifting heavy woks and sacks of rice at the noodle shop. His mother, with her carpal-tunnel-scarred wrists from a lifetime of wrapping dumplings.
They were defenseless.
He, Lin Hao, a "campus hero," a "Level 6 Hidden Boss," a man with 15 million dollars in the bank, had just left his family completely exposed.
The thought was a spike of pure, burning, ice-cold frustration.
He stood there, caked in filth and dog blood, his mind racing. He was powerful. He was an upgrader. He could fix this.
He didn't bother to shower. He didn't care about his hunger.
He opened his System interface, his eyes blazing in the dark.
[Upgrade Points (UP): 450]
It was a fortune. He had been saving it for his own Talent. He didn't care.
He navigated to the one tab he had ignored until now.
[$Upgrade Others$]
The screen, which had been grayed out, flickered. [Proximity Required], the text said. But then, a new line appeared, as if the System sensed his desperation. [Exception: Blood-Kin. Target?]
"Yes," he whispered, his voice a low growl. He didn't think of his parents first. He thought of his sister. She was young, she could learn, she could fight.
"Target: Lin Mei," he commanded.
[Target Acquired: Lin Mei (Family/Bloodline). Current Status: Asleep.]
A new screen popped up, just like his own [$Self Upgrade$] tab, but with her stats. [Talent: Level 1: Mortal Root] [Cultivation: Uninitiated]
He had to give her the chance. He had to give her the seed of power, just like he had.
[Target: Lin Mei | Talent: Level 1: Mortal Root] -> [Upgrade: Level 2: Waste Root]?
This was it. He was ready. He had 450 UP. His own upgrade cost 100. The 100x cost...
[Cost: 10,000 UP]
Lin Hao's breath hitched. His eyes widened, staring at the number in the dark.
Ten... thousand.
The 100x cost wasn't a joke. It wasn't a metaphor. It was a brutal, soul-crushing multiplier.
He had 450 UP.
He couldn't do it. He was a god, and he couldn't even give his own sister the worst possible, "Waste Root" scrap of power.
Frustration, hot and acidic, burned in his throat.
"Fine," he snarled at the interface. "Fine! Forget talent. Just... health. Protect them. My father."
He changed the target. "Target: Lin Wen."
[Target Acquired: Lin Wen (Family/Bloodline). Current Status: Asleep.] [Health: Mortal (Degraded). Chronic Back Pain (Mortal Ailment). Carpal Tunnel (Mortal Ailment)...]
The list of his father's mortal, working-man's aches and pains scrolled for a full three lines. Lin Hao's heart ached.
[Upgrade: Perfect Mortal Health (Purified)]?
This wasn't cultivation. This was just... healing. It had to be cheaper. His own first upgrade was 10 UP. A basic heal... maybe 50 UP base cost?
The System, uncaring, calculated the 100x multiplier.
[Cost: 5,000 UP]
Five... thousand.
Lin Hao stared at the number, his fists clenching at his sides, his [Iron Skin]-covered knuckles cracking.
He was a "hero." He had 15 million dollars. He had 450 Upgrade Points.
And he couldn't afford to heal his father's back pain.
He couldn't afford to protect any of them. Not yet.
He felt a burning, terrible spike of frustration and failure that was sharper than any dog's tooth. His new power was a joke if it couldn't protect his family.
His exponential loop wasn't a "plan." It was a necessity. It wasn't fast enough. 800 UP tomorrow? 1600 the day after? It wasn't enough.
He needed more. He needed it now.