The next morning, the winter sun rose slowly over Yanjing University.
Lu Xingye woke up earlier than usual.
The dormitory was still quiet. Zhao Dawei was snoring like a broken engine, Chen Rui had fallen asleep with his laptop still open, and Wang Hao was curled up under his blanket, completely disconnected from the world.
Lu Xingye sat up and subconsciously glanced at the back of his left hand.
The circular tattoo was no longer the dull, exhausted gray of last night.
A thin layer of black had returned—like ink slowly soaking into skin.
Not full.
But alive.
"So food really is energy…" Lu Xingye muttered.
He grabbed a bun from the desk, took a bite, and felt a faint warmth spread through his body. It wasn't dramatic, but he could sense it—like charging a battery at low current.
The rule was clear.
Power was never free.
He washed up, packed his laptop, and quietly left the dorm.
At nine o'clock sharp, a group of four appeared at the Industrial and Commercial Bureau.
Their outfits were ordinary.
Too ordinary.
If anyone looked closely, they would assume these were just fresh graduates registering a small startup, dreaming foolish dreams.
No one would guess that thirty million yuan was already waiting quietly in a bank account.
"Company name?" the staff asked.
Lu Xingye didn't hesitate.
"Tunhuo Technology Co., Ltd."
吞火.
Swallowing fire.
Not avoiding it.
Not fearing it.
But consuming it.
"Business scope?"
Lu Xingye answered steadily: "Network security software development, system-level protection solutions, data defense technology, and related technical services."
The staff nodded, typing quickly.
"Legal representative?"
"Lu Xingye."
When the seal was finally stamped, the red ink still fresh, Zhao Dawei stared at the document in his hands for a long time.
"…So this is what it feels like," he said quietly. "We're really bosses now."
Chen Rui adjusted his glasses. "Legally speaking, yes. Financially speaking—also yes."
Wang Hao laughed. "Mentally? I still feel like a student skipping class."
Lu Xingye folded the papers carefully.
"This is only the first step," he said. "From now on, every decision we make matters."
No one joked after that.
They all understood.
In the afternoon, Lu Xingye went alone.
He rented a small office in a technology park on the outskirts of the city—cheap, quiet, and expandable.
Bare white walls.
Old desks.
Second-hand chairs.
But the internet was stable.
That was enough.
He locked the door, closed the curtains, and sat down in the center of the empty office.
It was time.
He placed his left hand on the desk.
The circular tattoo pulsed faintly.
Black ink slowly rotated along the ring, like a loading bar filling segment by segment.
Not full yet.
He knew the rule.
To take something out—
He needed to see the entire world view.
Lu Xingye opened his laptop.
The familiar opening music of Iron Man filled the room.
He didn't fast-forward.
Didn't skip.
Didn't blink.
From Tony Stark's captivity, to the birth of the arc reactor, to the Mark I tearing through fire and steel.
He watched.
Not as entertainment.
But as preparation.
Two hours later, when the credits rolled, Lu Xingye closed his eyes.
The tattoo was darker now.
Not completely black.
But enough.
He stretched out his hand.
The air in front of him twisted.
Space folded like paper being pinched.
A heavy pressure slammed into his arm.
Weight.
Real weight.
Lu Xingye gritted his teeth.
The rule echoed in his mind—only items of similar weight to the protagonist.
Something small.
Something foundational.
Something that wouldn't kill him by appearing.
With a dull metallic sound—
A palm-sized device dropped onto the desk.
Cold.
Smooth.
Triangular.
An Arc Reactor core module—low-output, incomplete, but real.
Lu Xingye staggered back, breathing hard.
The tattoo instantly faded from black to dull gray.
Drained.
Completely.
J.A.R.V.I.S.
The AI's voice sounded calm but alert.
"Object extracted successfully."
"Energy consumption: extremely high."
"Warning: repeated extraction without sufficient charge may cause irreversible damage."
Lu Xingye looked at the device on the desk.
This wasn't a weapon.
It wasn't armor.
It was better.
A power source.
A future.
He laughed softly.
"So this is it," he said. "The real beginning."
Outside the window, the city moved on as usual.
No one knew—
That in a nearly empty office, a spark capable of burning the world had just been swallowed.