Chapter Eighteen: The Rate of Attribute Growth

At night, rain began to fall at the frontline base. The tents made from waterproof tarpaulin were no barrier to sound; although the rain drowned out other noises, the concentrated patter of droplets on the tarpaulin simply became a new source of disturbance.

In such conditions, the seasoned soldiers were already sound asleep, while only the recruits tossed and turned restlessly.

Of course, some recruits harbored their own secret plans, their eyes darting about furtively in the darkness.

Seeing that everyone in the dormitory was fast asleep, one of them quietly slipped from his bed and began to dress with cautious, deliberate movements.

This man was none other than Private Cage, who was intent on escaping.

He hadn't intended to sleep undressed in the first place, but his teammates, seeing him keep his clothes on, immediately guessed his intentions and took turns keeping an eye on him.

With no other choice, he had to pretend to undress and sleep, waiting for an opportunity to act.

Sure enough, once they saw him settle down and sleep peacefully, his teammates let their guard down.

That was when he sensed his moment had come.

He dressed as quietly as possible, both excited and careful, and slipped out into the night.

He had barely made it outside when the leader of J Squad, Greaves, awoke with a start. Instinctively, he glanced at Cage’s bed—empty!

“Shit!”

Greaves sprang from his bed and rushed out of the dormitory, not even bothering to put on his outerwear.

Once Greaves had dashed out, Zhou Shu opened his eyes, reached under his pillow, and started munching on some nuts with relish.

There was nothing he could do—watermelon was a post-meal fruit; it was awkward to carry and hard to hide under the bed. With no popcorn on hand, nuts would have to do as a makeshift snack.

He’d been waiting for this moment for a long time.

This scene hadn’t been shown in the film, but later the movie did depict J Squad searching for someone, so this must have been something the Hunter System deduced from narrative logic.

Soon, Greaves returned, slapping the nearest bed and shouting, “Up, everyone up! Cage has run off. We have to find him, or Sergeant Farrell will skin us alive in the morning!”

The rest of J Squad was roused by Greaves’s shouts and, cursing under their breath, began to get dressed and rise.

Zhou Shu, too, feigned sleepiness as he dressed and joined the search party.

Though he and Cage were both “recruits,” their fates were worlds apart: Cage could only run for his life, while Zhou Shu was free to join the pursuit.

But despite his honest appearance, Zhou Shu wasn’t exactly loyal to J Squad either.

He watched Cage escape, saw Greaves give chase, and then the whole squad go after them. In truth, he was hoping to slip away amidst the chaos and visit the Mechanical Maintenance Center.

If there was a chance, he would seize it—after all, it wouldn’t hurt to take a look.

For a completionist, if you don’t walk every path and explore every possible quest line, how can you call yourself a completionist?

The most important thing was that such behavior wasn’t fatal; it wouldn’t cost him a “life.”

At worst, he’d be caught and, like Tom Cruise in the film, be strictly supervised after that.

But this time, no one noticed his “treachery,” because Tom Cruise’s escape plan failed, and so did Zhou Shu’s stealthy attempt.

It wasn’t that Tom Cruise had failed to draw people away, but that J Squad, as a veteran team, never acted alone—at the very least, they moved in pairs.

And if there was only one left? Then it became a trio.

Under no circumstances could anyone be left alone; teammates had to remain within each other’s line of sight.

Given these conditions, Zhou Shu never had a chance to slip away—he could only stand by and watch as they dragged Tom Cruise back.

Seeing that there was no hope, Zhou Shu simply climbed back into bed and went to sleep.

This recruit training arranged by the Hunter System was certainly a test of patience.

But before he truly settled in for the night, he checked his training progress for the day.

[Hunter System (Simulation Mode)]
[User: Zhou Shu (Recruit)]
[Mental: 0.93 (+0.01)]
[Strength: 0.74 (+0.01)]
[Agility: 0.75 (maxed out)]
[Endurance: 0.72 (+0.01)]
[Constitution: 0.74 (maxed out)]
[Language Proficiency: Native (mastery), English (beginner)]
[Auxiliary Equipment: One powered exoskeleton battle suit, manufactured by Edge of Tomorrow (good condition)]
[Primal Essence: 1.37]

His already meager supply of Primal Essence had dwindled further, and every bit spent had been a necessity, which left him frustrated.

Entering the virtual battlefield consumed 0.1 units at a time, including the energy required to exit.

He’d spent 0.2 units to acquire basic English communication skills.

Mastery of his native language was only natural—he’d lived in the Great Qin for more than seventeen years, and in a similar environment in another world for over a decade, with life and learning all in his mother tongue.

His English communication was only at the beginner level, built from scraps of memory from school English lessons and some original-language films with bilingual subtitles; unwilling to waste more Primal Essence, he’d settled for “beginner” for now.

Beginner was sufficient—not for test scores, but for spoken communication.

In truth, when it came to conversational English, few of his high school classmates could match even his current “beginner” level.

At the very least, he could now manage basic exchanges, and, entering the “Monster Movie World,” he could rely on original dialogue support.

Moreover, this experience had revealed to him even more new functions of his golden finger, so he was reasonably satisfied.

It was simply that Primal Essence was so useful and needed everywhere—if only he had more, anything would be possible.

But as it stood, he had almost none. Just a paltry amount!

He sighed.

It was like money—money isn’t everything, but without it, nothing is possible.

Money might not buy life directly, but with enough, one could at least extend it for a while with expensive medical equipment.

Zhou Shu had neither much money nor much energy, so he felt a little disheartened once more.

However, seeing the new plus signs beside his attributes did lift his spirits a bit.

At least it counted as positive feedback.

It also proved that training in the virtual battlefield was effective and clarified part of the mechanism for attribute growth.

Still, an increase of only 0.01 felt a bit underwhelming—such a tiny increment, right to the second decimal place.

He wasn’t sure if this was reasonable, but considering his base stats were only around 0.7, and he’d only undergone two lengthy training sessions, proportionally, the increase seemed… rather decent.

Aside from his mental stat, his other four base attributes were above 0.7, and in just half a day, each had increased by 0.01. Tomorrow…

Tomorrow he would be on the battlefield, likely dying right away as before—who knew if there’d be any stat growth?

But even if each scenario only gave him 0.01, after ten runs he’d have gained 0.1.

After ten scenarios, he could go from an ordinary high school student to someone with the physical prowess of a national-level athlete—unimaginable.

Never mind that this all happened in a single night in real time, which was already preposterous—ten scenarios together would be even more so.

Not counting the time actually experienced, if each scenario took only two days, then ten would be just twenty days in total.

If he counted real experience, he’d arrived at noon today, and tomorrow morning he’d be on the battlefield, most likely dying just like last time—he might not even survive until noon tomorrow, so ten scenarios might take less than ten days in real time.

By that calculation, his training efficiency was simply… astonishing!

“Hunter, have these values in parentheses already been added to me?” Zhou Shu asked curiously.

Hunter: [Not yet. They are only applied to your current virtual body.]

[In the virtual battlefield, your current mental attribute is 0.94, while in reality, your mental attribute is 0.93 (+0.01).]

[After you exit the virtual battlefield, the value in parentheses will require Primal Essence energy to be permanently added to your real attribute.]

Understood.