Chapter Six: The Localization of the Golden Finger

Zhou Shu had never intended to watch the meteor shower; he was hauled up there by his roommates. The temperature difference in Dongyuan City in early April was no joke—already chilly, and standing on the rooftop, exposed to the night wind, seemed utterly foolish.

Fortunately, the meteor shower didn’t disappoint. They saw the meteors right on time.

Since he was already there, Zhou Shu decided to go with the flow. He looked up at the starry sky, prepared to make a wish for high marks on his exams, telling himself it wasn’t superstitious, just a harmless try. At that moment, his field of vision suddenly elongated.

The effect was strange, something he’d experienced before: objects close but slightly blurred would suddenly recede, shrink, and become sharply clear. This time, the stretching continued, as if his gaze was drawn beyond the Earth, past the solar system, even out of the Milky Way.

Abruptly, he sensed something watching him. Focusing, his vision stretched again; the blurry shape became much clearer—it resembled a crab made of nebulae.

It was enormous, seemingly crouched beside the Milky Way, staring at him from distances of tens, even millions of light-years.

The shock made Zhou Shu shudder, his hair standing on end, snapping him back to reality.

He found himself still on the rooftop; the cosmic crab, the galaxy, the universe—all far away, invisible, with only his roommates and classmates nearby.

He rolled up his sleeve to check his arm—goosebumps covered it.

Recalling the bizarre sensation, and with another gust of wind, he trembled from head to toe.

The group of boys on the rooftop were lively, making wishes amid noise rather than quiet reverence. After haphazardly finishing their wishes, they hurried back downstairs.

Lingering would have been unwise—if the dorm inspector arrived, they’d be in trouble, since they’d picked the lock to get up there.

Amid the bustle, Zhou Shu managed to temporarily forget that unsettling, sanity-draining glimpse.

Back in the dorm, the chaos of familiar surroundings comforted him; he scrolled through videos for a while, then drifted off to sleep.

What followed was the business of “dreaming.”

Until this morning, he remembered again the galactic crab he’d seen, wondering if it was connected to the “golden finger” he acquired last night, or even to his earlier “transmigration.”

And that moment of being watched—he had no words to describe it.

Perhaps this world was not as simple as it seemed.

With this thought, he called out in his mind, and a line of text appeared before his eyes.

[Localization conversion progress: 99.9%...]

[Conversion ongoing...]

This was the result of his preliminary education and adjustment of the golden finger in the early morning; it was almost fully converted.

When it appeared again, it should be a simple and relatively familiar interface.

Soon, as the teacher continued to summarize historical points at the podium, the localization conversion of the golden finger completed.

[Conversion complete. Show new interface?]

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Seeing this message “in front of him,” Zhou Shu glanced at the history teacher, immersed in summarizing key points, and at his classmates diligently highlighting notes around him, then chose [Yes].

The moment he made his selection, the text vanished, replaced by a “familiar” data display interface.

[Monster Hunter Assist System Localization Version 1.0]

[User: Zhou Shu (Recruit)]

[Spirit: 0.91 (+0.02)]

[Strength: 0.74 (max)]

[Agility: 0.75 (max)]

[Endurance: 0.72 (max)]

[Constitution: 0.73 (+0.01)]

[Source Energy: 1.7]

[Virtual Battlefield Training Sessions: 1]

[Training Performance: Extremely Low]

[Auxiliary Equipment: One Standard Exoskeleton Suit from “Edge of Tomorrow” (Good Condition)]

[Source energy is sufficient. Allocate points to non-max attributes?]

The data panel appeared out of thin air before Zhou Shu, like AR-enhanced display; in truth, it was just a neural information overlay—no one else could see it.

He had borrowed the idea of a data panel from online novels he’d read.

He even suspected those web novels and their authors: perhaps someone among them had acquired a golden finger like he had.

Now that he possessed one himself, it was a reasonable suspicion.

Many authors enjoy adapting personal experiences into their works; for example, the progress bar turned lemon in “In Short, Very Sour,” where certain episodes were based on the author’s real life.

Yet, after reading this minimalist display screen, Zhou Shu couldn’t help but click his tongue.

“That’s it?”

Setting aside other details, what did [Extremely Low] mean? Clearly, it wasn’t something a good score should be called.

As a student with only two months before the college entrance exam, he couldn’t accept such a verdict.

He asked in his mind, “How is this ‘extremely low’ rating determined?”

Monster Hunter Assist System Localization Version 1.0: [Because your kill count in the virtual battlefield was zero, your training performance is rated ‘extremely low.’ Please continue to strive in the future.]

Using the most respectful address to deliver the lowest score—there was no way to respond.

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So Zhou Shu decided to change the subject, scratching his head in confusion, asking, “This virtual battlefield you mentioned—isn’t it the ‘Edge of Tomorrow’ movie world I entered last night?”

Monster Hunter Assist System Localization Version 1.0: [Yes, the virtual battlefield was generated using the combat records of ‘Edge of Tomorrow’ as the template.]

Well, that’s rich!

Zhou Shu was instantly annoyed, exclaiming, “Good grief!”

It wasn’t his incompetence—the system was simply unfair!

He had been thrust into the “Edge of Tomorrow” world while half-asleep, with no prompts, no beginner guidance, no objectives; he died without even knowing what was happening. Under those circumstances, expecting training results was absurd!

Nowadays, even games provide newbie missions and starter rewards. How could this virtual battlefield begin at nightmare difficulty?

That had to change.

His intentions were quickly understood by the Monster Hunter Assist System Localization Version 1.0, but it wasn’t a godlike “system”; it couldn’t perform miracles or hand out resources for breathing. It was merely an assist system, operating within its preset programming.

Even if minor adjustments were possible, it could only tweak existing parameters.

Like a daily meal allowance of thirty yuan: you could split it into three meals, four meals, even eight, but the thirty yuan limit couldn’t be changed—it couldn’t turn thirty into forty.

Helpless, Zhou Shu had to check the relevant information himself, and discovered his golden finger was not only not a “god,” but in fact a “defective system.”

Originally designed as an assist system for super soldiers, with a complete super soldier training module, it found upon reboot and self-check that the training module was missing when loaded onto Zhou Shu.

Some data files were also gone, so it had no idea why it had ended up like this.

The reason Zhou Shu entered the “Edge of Tomorrow” virtual battlefield was because he had watched videos related to the movie before sleeping; the golden finger had extracted key information—namely the alien monsters—so it built a new virtual battlefield for his training based on that.

According to the Monster Hunter Assist System Localization Version 1.0's report, an advanced new training battlefield was already being generated, based on monster information in his mind, but sufficient energy was required to activate it.

This energy was “source energy,” marked as 1.7 units.

Then Zhou Shu received a shocking revelation.

The initial reserve of source energy was not 1.7 units, but 11.8 units!

He was stunned.

Though he wasn’t yet sure what this energy could do, he knew it was needed to unlock new virtual battlefields; surely having more was better than less.

So, where had the energy gone?

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