Chapter Thirty-Seven: Zhou Shu Shudders

Inside the elevator, the more Zhou Shu thought about it, the more uneasy he became. He decided to consult the Hunter System. Out of caution, even alone in the elevator, he didn’t speak aloud, but instead asked silently in his mind, “Xiao Shou, do you think what I just felt was a kind of mental lapse?”

[Your mental state did exhibit a slight abnormal fluctuation earlier. The system compared it in detail to residual data on super soldiers in the database and found that your condition was similar to the ‘alert’ state of a super soldier. However, since the fluctuation was mild and there was no real danger, I did not alert you.]

“What does that mean?”

The word “alert” instantly made Zhou Shu tense. At that moment, the elevator arrived on his floor. He swiftly exited, entered his apartment, shut the door, and locked it in one smooth motion.

The Hunter System continued its explanation: [If a super soldier’s mental attribute surpasses a certain threshold, their perception of their surroundings is greatly enhanced. Should they encounter a situation threatening their safety—whether natural or unnatural—they enter a mental warning state. This is the so-called ‘alert’ state.]

As Zhou Shu read this, it all seemed strangely familiar, as if he’d come across a similar description somewhere before. While he mulled over it, relevant fragments of information flashed through his mind, and he quickly pinpointed the crux of the matter.

“You mean things like ‘intuition,’ ‘sixth sense,’ ‘spider-sense,’ or what they call ‘Peter Tingle’?”

The Hunter System, noticing Zhou Shu’s memory flashback and finding the comparison apt, agreed.

[Yes, it’s quite similar.]

With this confirmation, Zhou Shu felt a chill run down his spine.

Goodness, this was something remarkable!

While communicating covertly with the system, he made a rapid circuit through every room in his apartment. Only when the system assured him that no electronic devices had been activated abnormally and no strange signals were being transmitted did he finally relax.

As for why he was so “skilled” at this, he’d picked it up from movies and novels, of course.

Afterward, he peered out through the peephole, found no suspicious figures outside, then drew the curtains in the living room and observed from behind them.

But the residents in his apartment complex weren’t like the familiar neighbors in a village. After watching for a while, he realized that he didn’t recognize a single face.

How frustrating!

Watching Zhou Shu display such “professionalism,” the Hunter System felt that anti-surveillance training should be scheduled soon. On the other hand, it hesitated to point out the real issue: the appearance of this “alert” ability.

According to the incomplete data, other super soldiers only manifested the “warning” ability once their mental attribute reached at least 3 points.

Three points wasn’t the end goal—it just meant, like Zhou Shu now, you’d barely reached the threshold, with the ability coming and going, often mistaken for a fleeting illusion.

To fully realize this ability, you needed not only diligent practice but also to continue boosting your mental attribute. Only when it hit 4 or 5 points would the “alert” state become timely and reliable.

And that was just the baseline.

But as things stood, Zhou Shu’s mental attribute had just barely surpassed 1 point.

The gap was enormous!

This “warning” was a sort of superpower—something most humans didn’t possess, or if they did, it was barely perceptible.

Similarly, Zhou Shu’s earlier manifestation of the “slow-motion perspective” was actually a form of extraordinary dynamic vision, far surpassing that of ordinary humans.

If this ability grew stronger, he’d probably be able to see bullets moving in slow motion, experiencing something akin to “bullet time.”

For Zhou Shu, this “slow-motion” state was also intermittent. Other super soldiers, though, needed a mental attribute of about 3 to achieve this.

Because of differences in talent and species, there was no absolute standard, but that was the general range.

But what was Zhou Shu’s current state?

His mental attribute had just nudged past 1.

Was this due to the innate gifts of humanity, or Zhou Shu’s personal talent?

The Hunter System, with only Zhou Shu as its test subject and no way to conduct comparative studies among the human population, couldn’t say for sure.

Moreover, since Zhou Shu’s other attributes lagged far behind his mental attribute, his “slow-motion perspective” was only a flawed version.

In the virtual battlefield, his mental attribute rose rapidly, but his other stats couldn’t keep up. Occasionally, he’d activate the slow-motion view, allowing him to clearly observe the imitator monster’s movements and even come up with evasive maneuvers.

But in practice, it did him little good—he’d still end up slaughtered by the imitator monster.

Because he simply couldn’t dodge.

His strength and agility were insufficient to support fast, accurate reactions. All he could do was watch helplessly as the monster’s spikes pierced his body in slow motion.

He’d end up riddled with holes.

And then, in agony… reload from a save.

Or, the monster’s spike would come for his head, and he’d attempt a sidestep, but lacking power, he couldn’t get out of the way fast enough.

Even if he avoided a fatal blow to the head, his heart would “meet” the spike instead.

And again, in pain… reload.

Even if he managed to dodge once or twice with finesse, his low stamina would tire him quickly, and the next dodge, performed in exhaustion, would only get him killed.

Without a superhuman constitution, a single stab meant death.

And so, in endless pain… reload.

That’s exactly how Zhou Shu spent his night before last.

Fortunately, when he first encountered the “Ogre” last night, neither he nor the Ogre knew what the other was. Coupled with some luck—or perhaps an overwhelming will to survive—he’d managed to activate his “slow-motion perspective” just as the Ogre charged straight at him.

At that point, he didn’t have to fight the Ogre directly, nor did he need to dodge quickly or chase down a fast, erratic target. He just had to pull the trigger in the Ogre’s direction and let the exoskeleton and firearms do the rest.

He got lucky this time, but luck might not be on his side next time. He had to improve his combat abilities.

In every respect.

He needed to deal with not only the threat of monsters but also situations like today.

“Sigh…”

Zhou Shu slumped onto the sofa and sighed, “It really is just like those online novels say. Once you glimpse the other side of the world, trouble comes one after another.”

Realizing this, he decided not to hide anymore. He was certain that today’s group was connected to the one from last night.

Perhaps he really should try making contact soon.

But before that, he needed to gather as much “real” information as possible.

From what he’d seen in movies and web novels, “information asymmetry” was the trump card of large organizations: on one side, they possessed abundant resources and intelligence; on the other, a newcomer barely brushing the edge of the truth.

When the two sides met, the organization would slam down a dossier, having traced the rookie’s family tree back eighteen generations, while the rookie knew nothing—blundering in the dark, knowing only that one plus one equals two.

Listening to someone recite your entire life while you know nothing about them—such a disparity could easily break a person.

Zhou Shu’s goal was to create a “reverse information gap.”

So he didn’t leave the house all morning. Apart from calling his parents and grandparents to check in and assure them he was safe, he spent the rest of his time researching.

And, wouldn’t you know it, he actually found something.

None of it was officially verified, of course, but these things survived online as “urban legends”—most from abroad, each with a distinctly local flavor.

In Da Qin, the stories were about monsters roaming the cities, demons from beyond, eyewitness accounts of sword immortals, or claims that martial arts were real.

Across the ocean, in the Eagle Federation, people spoke of aliens, government gene experiments, or curses from the native tribes.

In District 11 across the eastern sea… things got quite anime-esque. The most famous tale was about someone’s figurine waifu coming to life—mainly because anime was so prevalent there and everyone was a die-hard otaku.

Europa stuck to its traditions: fairies, the Wizard of Oz, witches, witchers battling devils, and so on. Sometimes they’d even cross over with the Eagle Federation, where fantasy and sci-fi would collide.

In the past, Zhou Shu would have ignored such things or treated them as mere stories.

Especially the bit about the “figurine waifu coming to life”—that someone would record such a thing was simply absurd.

Wasn’t that the norm for so many young people? Filling their homes with figurines and dreaming every night that they’d come to life and join them in a life of shameless bliss?

But after everything he’d experienced last night, and the unmistakable feeling of being watched today, he began to interpret these stories from a different angle.

“If a figurine waifu could really…”

He glanced at the few figurines on his desk…

“Ugh, what am I thinking? I’m supposed to be researching serious stuff!”

“This concerns the safety of humanity, after all!”