The silence of the warehouse was absolute.
Lin Hao sat cross-legged on the cold, dusty concrete. He had been in a deep, unwavering meditative state for six hours, his new, High-Grade "Azure Ocean Divine Chant" in full, silent operation.
His new, [Level 7: Viscera Fortification] was... profound.
It wasn't a visible, external power. It was an internal, absolute solidity. He could feel his organs, his heart, his lungs, his liver, all humming with a dense, warm, Qi-infused resilience. They felt as tough and leathery as his [Iron Skin]. He was no longer a fortress with a soft, vulnerable interior. He was a solid, forged, block of granite, from skin to bone to core.
He was, for the first time, truly invincible by mortal standards.
His new High-Grade Gongfa was a terrifying, insatiable engine. The ambient Reiki in the 12,000-square-foot warehouse was gone. He had inhaled all of it, a silent, invisible vortex, and the air was now thin, dead, and stale. He would have to let the building "refill" from the outside world before he could practice again.
He looked at his status.
[Upgrade Points (UP): 9330]
His jaw tightened. His eyes, cold and analytical in the dark, stared at the number.
It was a fortune. And it was not enough.
He had one, singular, all consuming goal, a goal that burned hotter than his cultivation: [Target: Lin Meng | Upgrade Cost: 10,000 UP].
He was 470 UP short.
He had to wait. One more day. One more 23-hour cycle until midnight, until his next, massive 12,800 UP payout.
He had to sit here, a Level 7 god in his fortress, and wait, while his talented, naive, [Level 3: Inferior Root] sister was out in the world, a shining, unprotected target.
The frustration was a physical, sour, coppery taste in his mouth.
In the corner of the warehouse, a cheap, 32-inch television he'd bought with his mortal money was playing the 24-hour news, muted. It was his only intel, his one window into the chaotic, "Awakened" world he was hiding from.
He used it to track the BSA's movements, the prodigies' tours, the reports of other "Awakened" heroes.
He was half-watching the screen, his mind calculating, planning, when the broadcast changed.
It wasn't a slow transition. The local anchorwoman, who had been reporting on a new "Awakened" registration center, suddenly vanished.
The screen flashed a blinding, urgent, red.
!!! BREAKING NEWS !!!
The audio, which he'd had on mute, suddenly blared to life, a high-pitched, urgent, "breaking news" chime that echoed in the vast, empty warehouse.
"We are... we are interrupting all broadcasts with an urgent, city-wide alert," the Anchorwoman said. She was back on screen, but her professional, polished mask was gone. Her face was pale, her hands visibly trembling as she read the new script.
"We have... we have reports of a major containment breach at the City Zoo. I repeat, a containment breach!"
The screen cut to shaky, terrifying, panicked smartphone footage. It was from the zoo. He could hear screaming, the thwack-thwack-thwack of what sounded like high-caliber rifle fire, and a low, earth-shaking, impossible roar.
"A-Teams are on-site!" the anchorwoman's voice-over said, her voice cracking. "But... we're getting reports... they are not stopping it."
The footage zoomed in. Lin Hao leaned forward, his eyes narrowing.
It was a Siberian Tiger.
But it was wrong.
It wasn't just a tiger. It was a monster. The user's prompt had said "three times its normal size," but that was an understatement. It was a nine-hundred-pound animal that had been super-charged, its body now a dense, 2,000-pound mass of knotted, writhing, mutated muscle. Its fangs were no longer teeth; they were white, curved daggers a foot long. Its eyes, like the dogs', were glowing, a deep, furious, crimson.
The camera caught it in mid-motion. It was shrugging off tranquilizer darts, which were bouncing harmlessly off its new, Reiki-Infused hide. It swatted a BSA agent, a Level 2 Adept, by the feel of him, and the man simply vaporized in a red mist, his body not just broken, but obliterated.
"It... it has smashed through the primary, 8-foot reinforced concrete containment wall," the anchorwoman was saying, her voice a horrified whisper. "It is... it is out."
Lin Hao felt... nothing. A monster. A problem. But not his problem. His warehouse was a fortress.
Then, the anchorwoman's earpiece crackled. She listened, her hand pressed to her ear, her last bit of professional composure dissolving into pure, naked fear.
"We have... we have a confirmed, official threat-level update from the Bureau of Supernatural Affairs..."
She looked at the camera, her eyes wide.
"The beast... the beast is confirmed Level 5: Blood Vitality."
Lin Hao froze.
Level 5.
The exact level of the Houtian path he had used to fake his own "heroic" stand. This wasn't a Level 1 mutated dog. This was a true cultivator-level threat. A beast with the power to circulate Qi, to self-heal, to strike with the force of an internal and external cultivator.
The "A-Teams" were snacks.
"All... all citizens are ordered to shelter in place, lock your doors..." the anchorwoman was reading, her voice shaking so hard she could barely get the words out. "The beast is confirmed... it is loose. It has breached all perimeters and is heading... it is heading east. It is moving fast, into the eastern suburban sectors."
Lin Hao's mind, a cold, sharp, geographic calculator, mapped the report. The zoo. The containment breach. The path, east.
The eastern suburbs.
His heart, his new, [Level 7: Viscera Fortified] spiritual engine, did not stop.
It did something far worse.
It thumped.
One single, hard, agonizing, cold beat.
His neighborhood. His parents' noodle shop. His sister, with her new, naive, [Level 1: Iron Skin] and her [Level 3: Inferior Root].
The 24-hour wait for his sister's upgrade, which had been an "agonizing" strategic delay, had just become a death sentence.