Chapter Thirty-Six: Iron Egg

Having fully grasped the entire meditation process, Fan Bei realized that the most difficult step for him had already been resolved. All he needed to do was follow the refining steps of the meditation method, using the spiritual power transmitted by the "Father of Systems" to temper and strengthen his own will, transforming it into true personal strength.

Acting on this thought, he summoned the idea of "restoration" in his mind.

A familiar warm current appeared once again in his consciousness. This time, however, Fan Bei did not allow it to simply convert into surplus energy. Instead, following the refining steps outlined in the bronze-level meditation manual, he closed his eyes and focused intently.

With conscious effort, the warm current gradually revealed its true form to him—a gently flowing, silvery-white fluid threaded with a hint of gold.

Fan Bei maintained strict discipline over his mind and body, clearing his thoughts. With his eyes closed, the sea of consciousness—once a tumultuous expanse of fleeting thoughts—steadied and clarified, becoming calm and transparent.

He did not dare relax his focus. As instructed, after sensing the warm current, he consciously guided the silvery-white fluid, dividing it into countless streams that flowed into his sea of consciousness.

In this mental sea, scattered thoughts—like parched ground craving rain—eagerly absorbed the divided essence, gradually stabilizing. The absorbed thought fragments began to gather together.

At last, he saw a small reef emerge above the ocean’s surface—barely enough for a single person to stand upon.

Moved, Fan Bei captured a thought that had leapt from his consciousness and placed it atop the reef.

He then witnessed a wondrous scene: the thought became anchored, transforming into a fixed fragment of memory. Now, as soon as his awareness touched it, the details within became immediately clear—no longer requiring him to struggle to recall, nor risking any omissions.

So this was the legendary "photographic memory," though for now, he could only achieve it with a limited range of things.

Yet, for someone like him, possessing the "Father of Systems," did this ability hold much meaning?

Wait—a difference.

Fan Bei quickly understood. The "Father of Systems" could help him record skills and knowledge, but it would not account for events around him or people he encountered. The personal diary, after all, required him to write things down; otherwise, it would only record the mundane.

This ability, then, could greatly enhance his observation.

For instance, as he swam through his sea of consciousness, he found a new thought wave, picked it up, and placed it on the reef.

The thought solidified into a memory fragment, recording every detail of the person he had met today—Chef He. Every word exchanged, every glance, every movement—nothing was missed.

After examining it, a dangerous thought flashed through his mind, plunging his consciousness into chaos. The sea of awareness vanished, and even the nascent reef trembled violently, but it remained standing, like a stubborn rock left after the tide recedes, steadfast in the dark void.

Yes, this was the fruit of meditation—it stabilized a portion of the otherwise chaotic sea of a normal person’s consciousness, creating a fixed, enduring presence.

For most people, thoughts from one moment to the next are completely different; their mental ocean is formless and chaotic, incapable of exerting any true strength.

No matter how vast, unorganized power is meaningless.

Now, the reef that had formed in Fan Bei’s mind was small, yet wielded real, confrontational force. He believed that with just this little island, he could shatter many feeble evil spirits.

He retrieved the dangerous thought from the chaotic sea and placed it upon the reef as well. After another glance, he repeated the refinement process.

"Restoration," followed by division and absorption.

As the night wore on, the reef grew larger, from a spot just big enough to stand on, into a small stretch of sandy beach.

Eventually, Fan Bei could go no further. Though his spiritual power could restore his energy, he could no longer focus—fatigue weighed heavily. He soon fell into deep sleep.

The next morning, Fan Bei woke and roused Big White, who was sleeping nearby.

"Big White, I have something for you from the master. Can you have Little White move onto this iron egg?"

"Why?" asked Big White, raising confused eyes and whimpering softly.

"Oh, I’m worried the wooden carving it inhabits isn’t sturdy enough—don’t want it getting broken again," Fan Bei replied kindly.

"Master is so considerate! I’ll tell it right away." Big White nodded earnestly, quite approving. If Little White became an iron egg, wouldn’t it be fun to roll it around?

After a while, Big White barked, "Master, Little White agrees, but it says it’ll take a bit of time."

"Alright, let’s wait," Fan Bei nodded.

As they waited, a knock sounded at the door.

Fan Bei rose to open it and was met by Chef He, head bowed respectfully.

"Sir, and you too, white dog—your breakfast is ready."

Before Fan Bei could speak, Big White rushed out first, eager for breakfast. Fan Bei shook his head, resigning himself; after all, Big White was a dog.

As he passed Chef He, the man’s gaze flickered.

Big White was already eating—a large bowl of pork congee with white fungus, longan, and walnuts.

Fan Bei glanced at it and silently murmured "detoxify" in his mind, but the "Father of Systems" showed no reaction.

Satisfied there was no danger, he sat at his own table, where a small bowl of eight-treasure porridge and three freshly fried dough sticks awaited him.

Delicious...

He inhaled deeply and said to Chef He, "Sir, you should have some too."

"No need, I’ve said before—I cannot eat the food prepared for my employers," Chef He replied, standing respectfully to the side.

Fan Bei repeated his safety check with his own food and, finding nothing amiss, ate contentedly. The chef’s skills were truly remarkable.

After breakfast, he returned to his room and summoned Big White, who had finished eating, to continue his cultivation.

Until he had consolidated his progress, he would not hunt in the residential district; all miscellaneous matters would be handled by Chef He.

Time slipped by, and by noon, after his cultivation, Fan Bei felt so drowsy he had little appetite for lunch. A thought flickered through his mind.

"So, it’s begun. If my guess is right, things must be getting serious for him. Seems he has only this much courage."

Big White was already sprawled on the carpet, snoring and drooling. Fan Bei lay down on the bed and soon drifted off.

Not long after, there was a new sound at the door.

"Sir, lunch is ready."

"Sir?"

Chef He quietly pushed the door open. Seeing one man and one dog, one on the bed, the other on the floor, both sound asleep, he sighed.

"Don’t blame me, Mr. Fan—you’re a good man. I don’t want to do this, but I refuse to be anyone’s puppet. Besides, you haven’t lost much—just two days’ food and an iron sphere. That’s a fair price."

With that, he picked up the iron sphere by Big White’s feet, withdrew cautiously, eyes fixed on the sleeping pair.

Big White rolled over, causing a slight stir, but Chef He kept his composure and exited the bedroom.

Gone?

Fan Bei immediately opened his eyes, thinking silently—if you can actually take that unknown presence away, I’ll feel some pain, but removing a hidden threat ahead of time isn’t a bad outcome.

Too bad—the system’s allure is far greater than you realize.

...

Carrying the iron sphere, Chef He gently closed the living room door behind him and headed east.

He arrived at the door to the generator room, glanced at the keyhole, then cradled the iron sphere in his right arm and extended his left index finger.

The finger slowly transformed, finally taking the shape of a key. He inserted it, tested it twice, then adjusted the key’s form slightly—until, with a click, the door swung open...

Wait for me, everyone. I’m coming back.