The warehouse was cold, and Lin Hao was pacing. The 4,200 UP in his account was a burning, useless weight.
His sister's [Level 3: Inferior Root] was a ticking time bomb of both potential and danger. The 10,000 UP price tag to upgrade her, a price that would jump to a staggering 500,000 UP for the next level, was the new, non-negotiable goal.
He had done the math. He would have just enough UP tomorrow at midnight.
But that was twenty-four hours away.
Twenty-four hours for his naive, proud, 16-year-old sister to punch the wrong wall, or to be seen by the wrong BSA recruiter. Twenty-four hours for a pack of mutated "Reiki Hounds" to sniff out his undefended, suburban family.
The thought was agony. He couldn't speed up the System's clock, but he wouldn't just sit here and wait.
He had to protect his family, and that meant moving them. Now. Tonight.
He needed to get them out of that flimsy house. He needed to buy them a fortress, a safe house, something concrete and steel.
And that took mortal money. A lot of it.
His $15 million was his own "new life" fund. It was the seed money for "Lin Hao, the Student," and it was already linked to his warehouse and his car. He couldn't touch it. It was his cover.
He needed a new fund. A family fund.
His mind was made up. He had to re-enter the market. He was a one-man spiritual-artifact factory, and it was time to produce. He would make another blade, something even stronger than the first.
But he had a new, glaring, tactical problem.
He couldn't sell it.
Not as himself.
"Lin Hao, the Campus Hero," was the city's new mascot. He was a registered, "lucky" [Level 2: Adept]. He was the "brute" who had been publicly humiliated by the "Prodigy" Chen Long.
If that same kid walked into Old Man Feng's shop, or any shop, with a second priceless, spirit-grade treasure... his cover wouldn't just be blown. It would be vaporized.
The BSA, the Guardian Families, Chen Long... they would all descend. He wouldn't be a "hero" or a "brute." He would be a liar, a threat, and a specimen to be dissected.
His "Hero" persona was a cage.
To move freely, to sell high-value items, to operate in the shadows with the power he actually possessed, he needed a new face.
He needed a persona.
He stopped pacing. He looked at his 4,200 UP. This was the solution. He didn't just need to upgrade his family; he needed to upgrade his operation. He needed the tools of a "hidden boss."
He walked over to a duffel bag in the corner, one he'd packed from his dorm. It contained the cheap, anonymous clothes he'd bought at a 24-hour superstore. He pulled out a set: a plain, long-sleeved black shirt and a pair of black cargo pants. From another bag, he pulled a blank, white, $5 plastic drama mask he'd bought from a craft store, a moment of pure, paranoid foresight.
This was his raw material.
He placed his hand on the pile of cheap, polyester-blend clothes. "System," he commanded. "Open $Object Upgrade$."
[Object: Mortal-Grade Clothing (Polyester/Cotton Blend)] [Details: Mass-produced, non-descript. Worthless.] [Upgrade: Low-Grade Spirit Rank Concealment Robe (Qi-Masking)]? (Cost: 500 UP)
Lin Hao's eyes narrowed. "Qi-Masking." This was it. This was the key. It wouldn't just hide his face; it would hide his power. It would make his [Level 6] aura, his "black hole" of energy, completely invisible.
It was a 500 UP investment in his new, parallel life. "Confirm."
[Deducting 500 UP. 3,700 UP Remaining.]
The cheap, black fabric didn't become silk. It became darker. The threads seemed to shimmer, to re-weave themselves into a denser, heavier, shadow-like material. Faint, complex runes, like stitched thread, appeared on the cloth and then faded, sinking into the fabric itself.
He then picked up the cheap, brittle, white plastic mask. "System."
[Object: Plastic Drama Mask (Mortal Grade)] [Details: Brittle, expressionless. Worthless.] [Upgrade: Low-Grade Spirit Rank Perception-Filter Mask]? (Cost: 500 UP)
This was even better. A "Perception-Filter." It wasn't invisibility. It was anonymity. It wouldn't make people not see him; it would make them not remember him. He would be "that guy." He would be a face in the crowd, an unmemorable, average "everyman." It was the perfect disguise for a ghost.
"Confirm."
[Deducting 500 UP. 3,200 UP Remaining.]
The brittle, white plastic didn't become jade. It didn't become gold. It became gray. The material shifted, becoming a smooth, flawless, featureless surface, the color of old, worn stone. The eyeholes were no longer cheap, cut-out plastic; they were two, perfect, empty circles that seemed to be pools of pure shadow. The mask was no longer an object. It was a void.
His heart was beating with a new, cold, professional calm.
He stripped off his "Lin Hao, student" clothes. He pulled on the new "Qi-Masking" robes. They were heavier than they looked, and the moment they settled on his shoulders, he felt it. His own [Level 6] aura, the powerful, dense energy he was constantly, unconsciously emitting... was just gone. It was sealed, locked away behind the robe's runes. He was, to any "Awakened" sense, a mortal.
He then lifted the smooth, gray, featureless mask.
He put it on.
His vision was not obscured. The shadowy eyeholes were clear.
He walked over to the one, grimy, cracked window in the warehouse, the only thing that could serve as a mirror.
He looked at his reflection.
"Lin Hao" was gone.
The robes didn't just hang; they blurred his body shape. His height, his build, his strong, cultivator's posture... it was all indistinct, lost in the shifting, shadow-like folds.
And his face... his face was an absence. The mask was a smooth, gray, utterly forgettable, featureless nothing. He was no one.
He was the "mysterious masked expert."
He was the "hidden boss."
He was now free to move, to sell, to act in the world on his own terms.
He checked his final, remaining balance. [Upgrade Points (UP): 3,200].
It was enough. He had his disguise. He had his plan.