Chapter Thirteen: Dear, Is Installment Payment an Option?

Zhou Shu’s thoughts were remarkably unconventional; the Hunter System had truly never encountered a super soldier recruit like him before.

Moreover, when evaluating his mental state, the system found it to be astonishingly... active.

Many data points in the system’s database were missing, yet some remained intact. Comparing Zhou Shu’s mental activity to the relevant surviving data, it discovered that his mental energy far exceeded the “standard” levels previously recorded.

There was a distinct sense of worldliness about him.

His time bound to the system had already proven this: according to the fragmented logs, former recruits in the super soldier program during their initial phase devoted themselves wholly to training—nothing but training, always focused on improving their combat abilities.

They never questioned the training regimen, for that was the domain of the super scientists.

Yet Zhou Shu was full of bizarre ideas, and these ideas emerged endlessly.

He even once asked: could the system that trains super soldiers be used to train super scientists instead?

Wasn’t that obviously impossible?

Even the system itself, which had always operated strictly by the rules, now found itself beginning to “think.”

Earth—a remarkable place.

Humanity—a remarkable species.

And this human from Earth, Zhou Shu, was a super soldier recruit like no other…

But now that he was inside the virtual battlefield, the system naturally had the final say. Without hesitation, it rejected Zhou Shu’s “new plan” according to protocol.

[You have entered training mode. Unless the scenario ends, your mental stamina is exhausted, or you are interrupted by external forces, you cannot exit voluntarily.]

“Tch~ I knew it wouldn’t work, I was just saying,” Zhou Shu replied casually, rubbing his chin as he gazed at the airport entrance.

Fine, he’d treat this as playing a hyper-realistic game—after all, he couldn’t really die here.

If the game character died, what did that matter to the player?

Just reload from the last save!

Besides, “Edge of Tomorrow” was, at its core, a story about a “checkpoint maniac” respawning over and over—the last one falls, the next appears, and now, here he was.

At worst, he could just keep reloading until he figured it out. Zhou Shu had grown up watching his mother’s gaming streams, after all!

What did a bit of pain matter, so long as he could hone his skills until they became second nature? That was the path to success.

Most importantly, his objective remained unfulfilled: he had to make contact with the powered exoskeleton armor.

Summoning the exosuit in reality cost 0.1 units of energy, and entering the virtual battlefield cost 0.1 units as well.

With the same energy cost, one option risked exposure and failure if he disassembled it and couldn’t reassemble it, while the other allowed him to study it freely, with professional engineers at his side. The choice was obvious.

He would, of course, choose to enter the virtual battlefield.

Yet as soon as he arrived, he found obstacles awaiting him—the first being the guard at the entrance.

More precisely, the challenge was how to converse with the gate sentry and clearly express his intention to enter.

This was the world of “Edge of Tomorrow,” a setting where everyone spoke English.

Last time, he’d been thrown in passively and had no way to communicate fluently; apart from the words he already knew, everything else was a matter of vague familiarity, context clues, and half-guesses based on others’ actions. He hadn’t managed to say much before dying.

This time, he’d entered voluntarily and would have to complete ten cycles of the scenario; poor communication would be disastrous.

But everyone knew his English grades were abysmal, to say nothing of his spoken ability.

If his English were as good as his other subjects, he’d easily be in the top five, not just the top fifty! He might even have become the top liberal arts scorer in Jizhou, despite being an art student.

This was the Great Qin Empire, not that parallel world on the other side, where top scorers were no longer celebrated. After more than a thousand years of imperial examinations, the title of “top scholar” still carried weight here.

Although the college entrance exam was different from the old imperial exam, the prestige of the title remained.

But now, learning English was out of the question. Would he have to bumble his way through, mumbling incomprehensibly?

Just as he was pondering this, the Hunter System offered a gentle reminder: [While searching for “Kaiju Combat Chronicle”… during the movie, I discovered many bilingual dialogues in Chinese and English. You already have them in your mind—why do you think you haven’t learned them?]

Bilingual dialogues?

All in his head?

A sudden flash of insight struck Zhou Shu!

He had indeed chosen Chinese subtitles with English audio when watching monster movies. That way, he could enjoy the original dialogue and understand the meaning at the same time—a perfect balance.

Someone had once told him this was a good way to learn English.

But who really set out to learn English from monster films? Everyone watched for the special effects, the monster battles, and the story as a bonus.

He would read the bilingual subtitles and promptly forget them; recalling the plot was accomplishment enough. But as it turned out, what he thought he’d forgotten had simply been relegated to implicit memory.

Logically, since enhancing his combat ability was a priority, and as a new recruit he needed “NPC” guidance, the system determined that activating these stored dialogues would be useful and asked him whether he wanted to convert them into active memory.

Moreover, Zhou Shu realized it wasn’t just monster movies; the system had only scanned kaiju-related memories because it lacked his permission to dig deeper. If he allowed it, the system could access much more.

In terms of spoken English, every film he’d watched with English audio and Chinese subtitles, every word, phrase, and structure he’d learned but “forgotten” since childhood—all of it had been tucked away in his implicit memory, gathering dust.

It was like finding an interesting online tutorial, bookmarking it with excitement, and never opening it again.

Was there any reason to hesitate when he could instantly gain fluent spoken English skills this way?

Of course he selected [Yes].

But just as he was about to celebrate, another system prompt appeared.

[Activating “English Dialogue Ability,” which includes all original English audio, bilingual subtitles, self-study memories, and unconsciously recorded content, and integrating these, will cost 1.2 units of source energy. Activate?]

Zhou Shu: “…”

As expected, source energy was everything.

Since he’d entered the virtual battlefield again, he had only 1.57 units of source energy left. He nearly collapsed on the spot.

But then he remembered: without English, he would be completely stuck in this “Edge of Tomorrow” simulation. One of his main goals was to access the exoskeleton armor, meet the relevant scientists and engineers, and learn the technology from them.

If he couldn’t even get through the front gate, there was no hope of learning anything.

What now?

“Dear little Hunter, can I pay in installments? You know what installments are, right? You activate the ability now, and I’ll pay you the source energy in several payments. Don’t worry, I’d never default… ahem, I mean I won’t owe you energy and not pay.”

“You know I’m an honest person.”

“Besides, your mission is to help me become a super soldier. If I get stuck at the first step, I won’t become one, and you won’t complete your mission either, right?”

Zhou Shu tried to persuade the system.

The Hunter replied: [You make a very good point.]

Zhou Shu: (^o^)/~ Hooray!

The Hunter: [But the system cannot do that.]

Zhou Shu: ε=(´ο｀*))) Sigh

[It’s not that I won’t grant you access, but activating this ability requires an equivalent amount of energy.]

[Converting implicit memory to explicit memory requires energy, as does organizing and integrating scattered information. Your brain also needs energy support to safely undergo the memory conversion process. It’s for your protection, so I hope you understand.]

Fine. He understood now—it’s the same as not being able to turn thirty into forty.

After all, the Hunter was just an auxiliary system, not a god.

Still, since the system had said “must use the required amount of energy,” Zhou Shu wondered if he could activate only part of his English ability.

Wouldn’t that use less energy?

The Hunter: [Yes, please select the range of memories…]

At last, Zhou Shu breathed a sigh of relief. The matter could proceed—he wasn’t stuck at an impassable checkpoint.

It also made him truly appreciate how dire his energy shortage had become.

“Source energy, where am I supposed to find you…”