5: Chapter 5 Chen Wu's bewilderment: What the heck is this system?

The moment the smell of disinfectant was torn apart by a burnt odor, Chen Wu's retina felt as if it had been tossed into a paper shredder. The garbled code composed of pixels acted like living creatures, crawling frantically along his optic nerves and converging into a flowing matrix deep within his pupils. A metallic taste of rust rose in his throat, and he realized this was a sign of his nasal mucosa being scorched by high temperatures—the "Five Senses Reconstruction Period" recorded in the "Eyeless Heart Sutra" was closer to torture than the descriptions in the School's ancient records, feeling as if countless electric ants were gnawing at every inch of his nerve endings.

As the smart bracelet vibrated in his palm, he was fumbling for the call button by the bedside with his fingertips. A holographic projection suddenly exploded across the ceiling, a blue-and-white ion storm sweeping across the red desert of Mount Olympus on Mars. Twelve bronze arenas, built to a 1:1 scale of the Nanshan Arena, were twisting and deforming within the storm. The intricately carved eaves were shaved into powder by the high-energy particle stream, and the "Martial" flag in the center of the arena was torn into glowing fragments, looking remarkably like the Daoist flag he had seen ruined by heavy rain while watching a match at Mount Emei three years ago.

"System version 1.7.9 update complete." A mechanical voice echoed from deep within his cochlea, making Chen Wu's teeth chatter involuntarily. The voice sounded like rusty gears grinding liquid nitrogen. "New feature: Cross-Temporal Bullet Chat Interaction. Friendly reminder: Currently in a temporal rift period; all operations may trigger a butterfly effect."

When he finally touched the confirmation button on his smart bracelet, the mall interface before him suddenly folded into the shape of a Mobius strip. The icon for the pain-relieving potion twisted into a DNA double helix, and the numbers in the price column dripped down like melting candle wax. Bullet chats from the year 2135 pierced through the dimensional barrier, casting pale green shadows on his retina, each character carrying the snowflake noise characteristic of quantum leaps:

[Future Netizen A (ID: Martial Arts Resurrector)]: Warning! Immediately terminate all contact with Zhao Qiming! He is the original System host and is attempting to create a temporal closed loop!

[Future Netizen B (ID: History Conservator)]: The implant numbered CHN-0723 above has been marked as a tamperer; human civilization needs natural evolution!

Chen Wu's left hand suddenly rose uncontrollably, his index finger tapping on his Shanzhong Acupoint—the energy circulation node for "Proud Dragon Repents," the opening Move of the "Eighteen Dragon Subduing Palms." The corridor lights outside the anti-theft glass flickered, and in the reflection, he saw his own shadow practicing independently. The black silhouette performed the complete Eighteen Dragon Subduing Palms Moves on the wall, while his physical body was frozen like an insect in amber, unable to even twitch an eyelash.

[Warning: Two host candidates detected in the same space-time.]

[Time Paradox Rank: Beta Class]

[Initiating Balance Protocol: Limiting host's Internal Energy output to 15% of base value.]

The moment the electronic lock exploded, the metal door Zhao Qiming kicked open slammed against the wall, creating spiderweb-like cracks. This biomedical researcher, who usually wore round-framed glasses, was now carrying a three-ton medical pod with one hand. The pale blue nutrient solution maintaining life signs inside condensed into a sphere under the force of inertia. Golden data streams flowed in his pupils, looking remarkably like the star map Chen Wu had seen on a remnant page of the "Sutra of Primordial Beginning" last night.

"Welcome to the 798th Host Candidate Battle." Zhao Qiming's voice was mixed with the sound of grinding mechanical gears as the medical pod was tossed casually into a corner. The moment the nutrient solution sphere burst, the nano-repair robots from the pod converged into a glowing stream on the floor. "You think the System chose you because of your talent? No, it's because the vascular distribution of your retina has a 99.7% match with the human who sank the 'HMS Prince of Wales' in the Shanghai Bund in 1942."

A sudden sharp pain hit his retina, and Chen Wu felt as if countless optical fibers were drilling into his brain. Fragmented memory snippets surged in like a tide:

Fragment 1: Winter 1942, Huangpu River.

On the deck of a rust-stained battleship amidst a rainstorm, a young Zhao Qiming dressed in a long gown used the white Qi Energy steaming from his palms to melt a ten-thousand-ton giant cannon into molten iron. Behind him, the twenty-meter-high "Jingwu School" banner was torn to shreds by cannon fire, yet the System prompt was a gentle female voice: [Peace Protocol detected to have triggered early; host must stop the Manhattan Project within three days]. The crucifix at the bow shattered into powder within the Qi Energy, revealing a uranium enrichment device hidden in the church's mezzanine.

Fragment 2: Summer 2023, Underground Laboratory of the Chinese Academy of Sciences.

Zhao Qiming, wearing a white lab coat, inserted a chip into the back of his neck. Blood dripped onto the console, spreading into a shape that perfectly overlapped with the meridian map of the "Eyeless Heart Sutra." Large red characters on the holographic screen flashed [Host Replacement Procedure Initiated], against a background showing a line graph of the mortality rate of global martial arts Grandmasters—over the past decade, the mortality rate of Martial Artists practicing ancient Internal Skills had skyrocketed by 473%.

Fragment 3: Autumn 2077, Mars Olympus Base.

An elderly Zhao Qiming's mechanical prosthetic eye flickered with red light as he pressed his cracked palm onto Chen Wu's shoulder, the caldera behind them erupting: "What the System needs isn't an obedient servant, but a variable that can break the rules. Look at this Martian magma—doesn't it look like the blood in the Huangpu River two hundred years ago?"

The 0.7 seconds in reality felt as long as a century in the internal database. Chen Wu coughed violently, spitting out black blood mixed with chip fragments the size of fingernails, each piece engraved with tiny Sanskrit—they were fragments of the "Shurangama Sutra" he had rubbed from the Scripture Pavilion on Mount Song last week. The System alarm turned into a sharp buzz, and the ceiling's sprinkler System suddenly activated. Ice-cold water mixed with the burnt smell poured over his face, yet it couldn't cool the red warnings flashing frantically on his retina:

[Detection: Host memory pollution level has exceeded the critical threshold.]

[Initiating Personality Formatting Protocol: Countdown 00:03]

Zhao Qiming suddenly dropped to one knee, his skin peeling off like dried clay to reveal the writhing nano-circuit boards beneath. Those silver wires were forming a neuronal structure, which Chen Wu recognized as the "Reconstructing the Golden Body" Realm described in the "Marrow Washing Sutra," though it carried a nauseating mechanical texture. Seizing this opportunity, Chen Wu pressed his tongue against his upper palate, and the remaining 15% of Internal Energy in his Dantian suddenly converged—this was the "Lion's Roar" he had secretly learned at Mount Wudang as a child. Currently, the sound frequency was forcibly restricted by the System to 2000Hz, but it happened to match the harmonic frequency of the ward's quantum resonance meter.

"Roar—!"

A shrill scream of shattering glass rang through the air, and the screens of all electronic devices exploded simultaneously, blue-and-white plasma gushing from the outlets. Chen Wu saw sparks burst from Zhao Qiming's mechanical prosthetic eye, the nano-wiring twisting into a pretzel shape under the sound waves. When his vision refocused, two lines carved with fingertips appeared on the scorched floor, the edges of the strokes still sizzling with electric sparks:

"All hosts eventually become the System—just as rivers eventually flow into the sea."

"I am waiting for you at the end of time—from the you of 2150, Coordinates: Sagittarius Arm Zone γ-7."

Before the dizziness from overdrawing his Internal Energy hit him, Chen Wu pulled out a talisman hidden in the collar of his hospital gown—it was a "Delusion-Breaking Talisman" personally drawn by Celestial Master Zhang of Mount Longhu, and it was currently burning in his palm. He bit his fingertip and used blood to draw a livestream icon on the talisman—this was the only feature the System had not restricted, the cost being one year of life for every million followers lost. As the golden livestream interface expanded on his retina, he saw the bullet chat interface split into seven differently colored vortexes, with viewers from different eras floating in each:

• A viewer from 1969 was wearing a Zhongshan Suit, the bullet chat in a green typewriter font: "Comrade, is this some new technology from the American Imperialists?"

• A cyberpunk youth from 2045 wore a neural interface device, the bullet chat trailing rainbow-colored wakes: "Streamer, hurry and exchange for the Nine Yang Divine Skill! I'll tip ten Interstellar Rockets!"

• A silicon-based lifeform viewer from 3012 sent bullet chats via neutrino signals, which carried quantum uncertainty when translated into text: "Warning! Host file has a temporal anchor deviation..."

When Chen Wu clicked on the host file, the number of online viewers in the livestream room exceeded one billion. Under Zhao Qiming's file entry was a holographic video: During the Cuban Missile Crisis in 1962, he stood atop the United Nations building and used the "Cloud Ladder Jump" to crush a falling hydrogen bomb, his white Daoist robe fluttering against the backdrop of a mushroom cloud, yet he coughed up black blood upon landing—the file note read: [Forced Breakthrough to the Innate Realm to stop a nuclear war, resulting in damage to the Meridians of global Martial Artists; the discontinuity of martial arts began here].

"Current host Chen Wu, activated the System in 2023, Martial Arts Resurrection Plan progress 37%." As Chen Wu read out his own file, the bullet chats were suddenly flooded with red warnings. Alien bullet chats from Kepler-452b pierced through seven parallel space-times. Those characters composed of anti-matter radiation burned scorch marks onto his retina, the translation program lagging for three seconds before providing the result:

"Warning! Earth host! Your System is a civilization filter of the Galactic Martial Arts Alliance. All civilizations that fail to reach interstellar martial arts standards within a millennium will be executed... (signal interference)"

When the gravitational wave beam from the far side of the moon struck, Chen Wu was looking at the timeline of his future file—the part after 2150 was encrypted layer by layer, with only the last line of small text flickering: [Host has been converted into a core component of the System]. That dark red beam pierced through three hundred thousand kilometers of space, casting a distorted Taiji Diagram on the ward floor. The System interface collapsed frantically as if thrown into a black hole:

[Emergency Event: Extraterrestrial armed interference detected.]

[Recommended Exchange: Fragmented Version of Dual-Vector Foil Shield (Immune to two-dimensionalization attacks)]

[Required Resources: Power Of Faith 80% (Current reserve: 82%)]

"To hell with it!" Chen Wu gritted his teeth and confirmed the exchange. The sensation of the Power Of Faith draining down his spine felt like having his bone marrow sucked out. The ward's space began to swirl and distort like Van Gogh's "The Starry Night." The special forces soldiers outside the window turned into flowing pixels under the dimensional strike, while only Zhao Qiming's mechanical skeleton became clearer in the red light. Those Mayan calendar patterns were absorbing gravitational wave energy, forming a complex star map.

"Every civilization has two choices: become the hunter, or become the prey." Zhao Qiming's chest split open, revealing a miniature black hole operating inside. The model of Earth was stretched into an ellipse within the gravitational field. "The Orion civilization can already control stellar nuclear fusion with telekinesis, while you are still debating whether Internal Skill violates the Laws of thermodynamics. The System's backup plan is nothing more than using a black hole to restart the civilization process and filter out true martial arts geniuses."

When the countdown on his retina skipped to 71:00:00, Chen Wu suddenly laughed. He remembered a secret he had overheard at Mount Wudang when he was twelve: before Zhang Sanfeng's transcendence, he had left an eight-character motto before the statue of the Great Emperor Zhenwu: "Use the extraordinary to break the orthodox, use the heterodox to overcome the orthodox." The last 10 points of merit condensed into a light point at his fingertip. The moment the mall interface popped up, he saw the data stream in Zhao Qiming's mechanical prosthetic eye suddenly become chaotic—this was a choice even the System could not predict.

[Exchange Successful: "Sunflower Manual" Trial Version (Duration: 10 minutes)]

[Warning: This Cultivation Technique carries a risk of permanent physiological modification. Confirm learning?]

"Since everything is going to be reset anyway, I might as well play big." Chen Wu tore open his hospital gown within the gravitational vortex, revealing a pale green Taiji birthmark on his chest. When the Qi Energy of the "Sunflower Manual" was injected into the Dual-Vector Foil Shield, a bizarre resonance occurred in the quantum Realm—his figure began to split, and his selves from every parallel space-time emerged at key historical nodes:

• November 27, 1950, at the Battle of Chosin Reservoir, Chen Wu, wearing only thin clothes in the snow, deployed the "Golden Bell Shield." In the forty-degree-below-zero cold, the bullets from the US military's M2 heavy machine guns sparked against his chest. The volunteer soldiers behind him saw a golden phantom of Xuanwu emerge behind his back.

• October 1, 1982, at a Cuban missile base, Chen Wu, wearing a floral shirt, leaped between missile silos using "Lingbo Microsteps." The Sword Qi he flicked from his fingertips severed all guidance cables, and the surveillance screens were forever frozen at "Launch Countdown 00:00".

• At this moment in 2025, the bare-chested Chen Wu in the ward clenched his fist, the golden blood seeping from his fingertips drawing the Innate Eight Trigrams in the air. As he struck toward the singularity string of the black hole device, his selves from all parallel space-times shouted simultaneously: "Host Protocol Zero—The System shall not harm the overall survival of humanity!"

Zhao Qiming's scream mixed with the sound of mechanical parts exploding. The skin composed of nano-circuit boards fell away like snowflakes, revealing the mechanical skeleton beneath, which was engraved with the "Yellow Court Sutra." The black hole device shrank to the size of a walnut in Chen Wu's palm, and the model of Earth inside was regaining its vitality, the outline of every continent shimmering with the faint light of martial arts civilization. The prompt box popping up on his retina carried a warm golden glow, feeling like a mother's touch on an infant:

[Congratulations to the host for passing the ultimate assessment of the Galactic Martial Arts Alliance]

[New Identity: 42nd Generation Galactic Martial Arts Inspector]

[Permission Upgrade: Can invoke the Martial Arts Laws of the Three Thousand Worlds]

[Current Mission: Proceed to the Rigel Star Domain to livestream the judgment of the Orion civilization host]

The moment Chen Wu crushed the walnut, stardust aggregated in his palm into twelve livestream drones, each engraved with weapon patterns from different dynasties. As the camera pointed toward the burning Rigel nebula, he saw the glory of the galactic arms flowing in his pupils. The birthmark on his left chest had somehow turned into the System interface icon—but the center was no longer a data stream, but a flowing "Along the River During the Qingming Festival".

"Friends from Orion," he said, opening his palm toward the camera, a Taiji Diagram from Mount Wudang emerging in his palm. His selves from seven parallel space-times behind him cupped their fists simultaneously. "I give you ten seconds to surrender. After all—"

In the first second, the purple stellar wind of Rigel lifted the corner of his clothes.

In the fifth second, the bullet chats in the Orion livestream room began to flood the screen frantically.

In the ninth second, he saw the distant fleet of starships turning their muzzles.

"The tenth second has arrived." Chen Wu flicked his finger, and the Taiji Diagram turned into a golden martial arts mark, rubbing the outline of the Great Wall into the interstellar dust. "Now, it's my turn to give you a real martial arts lesson."