Chapter Twenty-Five: The Influence of the Virtual on Reality

Originally, firearms and powered armor operation weren’t even displayed on the panel—the system still didn’t encourage Zhou Shu to use them. But just like that “Extremely Low” evaluation, whether Zhou Shu wanted to see these skills or not, whether to display or hide them, it didn’t affect the system’s judgment.

The system might not care, but Zhou Shu certainly did. To keep track of his own “skill” progress, he let the system show them.

However, the information displayed in the auxiliary device column made his heart ache.

Five units of prime energy—why on earth did he waste them materializing armor? It’s not like there was any shortage of suits to interact with on the virtual battlefield; hundreds, even thousands were available, and the experience was just as good.

With those five units of energy, he could have had the Hunter unlock a more advanced “black tech” virtual battlefield, making exposure and learning much easier!

If he could have both physical fitness and technological prowess, there’d be no need to agonize like he was now.

“Little Hunter, can I return this?”

“No returns, dear.”

“Where did you even learn to talk like that?”

“From you, of course. Also, once prime energy is converted into other forms of energy or matter, it can’t be changed back. Please keep the consequences of this action in mind and be cautious with your use of prime energy in the future.”

“Why didn’t you say that earlier?”

“I did, but you still chose to materialize the armor right away.”

“…”

Zhou Shu fell silent.

He remembered what the Hunter System had said. After all, when deciding whether to materialize the powered exoskeleton, the system had asked him several times. The misunderstanding was his, leading to that reckless squandering of prime energy… and the little matter of demolishing the bathroom.

Clearly, poor communication leads to big consequences. So, spending 0.2 units of energy to improve his English communication had been the right call.

Although he hadn’t gleaned much technical info from the engineers and mechanics, he’d squeezed every drop of related intelligence from the veterans of Team J.

But as he thought more about it…

“Hiss—”

His head ached!

Yes, the headache. Whenever he tried to think, his head throbbed.

He hadn’t felt it in the virtual battlefield, because his mental strength was always on the rise, reaching above 1.1 at its peak. But back in reality, his mental attribute was immediately knocked back to its original state—0.93.

So, pulling an “all-nighter” still hit his mind hard.

He could solve it instantly by allocating points.

But with so little energy left, and so many “hungry wolves” eyeing it, he couldn’t bear to spend it.

Fortunately, even without adding points, the dizziness would gradually fade on its own—it was just a slow recovery compared to the instant result of point allocation. To recover fully would take at least most of a day.

And that was because he hadn’t pushed himself too hard, and his mental attribute wasn’t “too high.”

Yet he kept thinking about the miraculous feeling and abilities he’d gained after breaking past a mental attribute of 1. In the virtual battlefield, once his mental attribute exceeded 1, whether it was due to the enhanced mind or the combined growth of other stats, he’d felt as if he possessed a “bullet time” ability.

No, that wasn’t quite right—not that powerful—more like a “junior version,” where his dynamic vision was dramatically improved for a short period, granting him a “slow-motion world.”

If he focused intensely, heart racing, the ability would trigger, and the world seemed to move in slow motion.

But now? Forget slow motion—just trying to think made his head spin.

Helpless, he took off his glasses, closed his eyes, and rubbed his brow, hoping for a bit of physical relief.

Even if it didn’t help, it was some psychological comfort.

Looking at the glasses in his hand, he realized that as his stats increased, his nearsightedness seemed to have vanished—his “HD” vision restored.

A robust physique, the mysterious ability possibly tied to breaking a mental attribute of 1, the chance to cure his nearsightedness, the technology of powered exoskeleton armor—he wanted it all.

Yet these desires stood in sharp contrast to his meager energy reserves.

“Sigh, so this is the trouble that comes with growing stronger…”

“Hiss—”

“My head.”

The week had barely started, and Zhou Shu’s mental state was already poor.

He drifted through the morning self-study in a daze; the other symptoms only began to set in afterwards.

At breakfast, he’d become a ravenous wolf.

Usually, he’d eat two large meat buns, some vegetables, and a bowl of porridge—a perfect balance. And, of course, the hard-boiled egg the school provided to every college entrance exam candidate.

But this morning, he devoured four meat buns, a serving of vegetables, two bowls of porridge, and the boiled egg.

If he’d added points and his stats had risen above 0.8, the increased appetite would make sense. But in his current state of indecision, with stats still in the 0.7s, the only explanation was that his appetite had been conditioned by the British food in the virtual battlefield.

The first class that morning was Chinese, and Zhou Shu was half-asleep and bloated the whole time.

Clearly, his energy expenditure hadn’t increased.

By the second period—Geography—he felt a little better, but still kept rubbing his temples or closing his eyes for a moment’s rest.

Given his recent behavior and the events of the past two days, his roommates all noticed and decided he must be under tremendous stress.

But these idiots’ solution was to suggest, loudly and in groups during the mid-morning break in the bathroom, that he relieve himself.

“Sigh, this is something I barely managed to swap from another dorm, and I haven’t even had a chance to appreciate it yet. Lucky you, Zhou!”

In response, Zhou Shu simply finished his business, shook himself off, and left expressionless—he didn’t even know these fools.

“Hey, Zhou, don’t go!”

“Come on, tomorrow’s a day off—take it home and enjoy!”

“Get lost, you bunch of clowns!”

By the third period, Zhou Shu finally felt better—just in time for the class that made most students scratch their heads: English.

Not just this period, but the fourth as well.

As the English teacher walked in, thermos in one hand and a towering stack of test papers in the other, the class groaned in unison.

Here we go again.

First period: speed through a test paper (no listening or composition). Second period: go over the answers.

The teacher didn’t even grade them; he just explained at the front while students checked their own work and calculated their own scores.

What was this?

It was the infamous “sea of exercises” tactic.

Previously, Zhou Shu would have scratched his head in frustration like everyone else. But today, he found something new.

He used to barely understand the questions—how could he expect to get them right?

Now, as he glanced over the test passed from the front, it almost felt like looking at a Chinese exam!

“Huh?”

Not quite—on closer inspection, it wasn’t as familiar as a Chinese test. There was still some awkwardness; it wasn’t as intuitive as his native language.

After all, his native tongue was “proficient,” while his English communication was only “beginner.”

But “beginner” was enough.

His “beginner” level came from English movies’ original soundtracks and bilingual subtitles, so he wasn’t just an English-speaking illiterate.

For the English test, this meant a massive vocabulary boost and correct sentence structure comprehension. This time, as he worked through the questions, Zhou Shu felt completely at ease.

Multiple choice, fill-in-the-blank, reading comprehension—all the way through the test, he felt an unprecedented sense of exhilaration.

It was a brand new feeling for him.

Looking at his seatmate, brow furrowed and deep in thought, and the other classmates scratching their heads, he suddenly felt his spirits lift!

“Could this be what they call spiritual satisfaction?”