Chapter Forty: Letting Go

To call it maintenance was somewhat misleading; in truth, the process was scarcely any different from creating an entirely new system. The so-called “Good Person System” had been little more than a name, a perfunctory self-introduction, and the most basic scaffolding of system intelligence.

Upon turning to the third page, Fan Bei focused his mind on the word “maintenance,” and an array of system creation options unfolded before him. “Let’s see,” he mused, “Category: Martial Arts. System Alignment: Positive. Profit Share: Five percent. System Options… Let’s start with ‘Mission Guidance’—the rest can wait until I have more resources.”

According to the prompts for crafting a new system, all of these settings should require no more than a thousand points of mental energy. With this thought, he prepared to add each option one by one, when suddenly a warning flashed across the system interface.

“Warning: The creator’s strength is vastly inferior to that of the current host of the Good Person System. Maintenance cannot proceed.”

Fan Bei merely smiled at this. He had anticipated this very obstacle when he first created the titular system. He shifted his focus again: “Activate.” Instantly, a new message appeared.

“Hidden content in the system’s self-introduction has been activated. Transmitting to host.”

…
Copper Bastion.

It was the dead of night, with silence reigning over all. Most had already succumbed to sleep, yet the highest authority in this settlement tossed and turned in his bed.

Lang Sheng’s insomnia was not due to his inability to activate the system. By now, he had discovered its true value: it allowed him to communicate freely with mysterious, unknown entities. Even if he never managed to activate it, he would persist in being a good person, if only to prevent the system from unbinding and vanishing.

But it was precisely because of this newfound advantage that he could not sleep.

“Mr. Sun, it’s the middle of the night. You must let a man sleep, surely?”

“No can do. You haven’t finished listening to the Heart Sutra a hundred times today. I can’t let you sleep… ‘Form is not different from emptiness; emptiness is not different from form; form is emptiness, and emptiness is form…’”

“I’m already empty enough… We were just collaborators in a performance. That’s done and the reward was already offered to you; you can’t keep this up every day. Who could stand it?”

“No, no, I’m not acting anymore. I sincerely wish to become the Great Sage Equal to Heaven.”

“Uh, then you go be your Great Sage. There’s no need to pester me, nor to chant scriptures in my ear every day.”

“When you offered sacrifice to me, you declared, ‘Great Sage Equal to Heaven, boundless compassion, manifest before all, deliver the foolish and obstinate.’ Now I must deliver people. Only when this world is free of stubborn fools and evildoers will I truly be able to ascend to Buddhahood.”

“I’m already a good person. There’s no need for you to deliver me,” Lang Sheng replied gloomily.

“That won’t do. Only you can communicate with me unharmed; you’re the only one I can practice on. There’s another who’s evil enough, but I can’t deliver him yet—I need more experience with you. Besides, are you really a thoroughly good person? I doubt it.”

“Er…” Lang Sheng had no retort; he was only a “good person” under the system’s influence.

“Benefactor, it’s time for you to understand. Your sages have spoken: if you have attachments, let them go; if you have worries, release them. Only by truly letting go can you truly gain.”

“I, I…” Lang Sheng was struck by a chill at these words. Indeed, this was a mysterious being. Though the other party could not possibly know about the system, it still sensed the vast obsession in his heart.

No wonder the wise always warned: never presume to control those hidden entities lurking within the evil tides.

Humans could never control them; before them, our thoughts were as simplistic as ants—constrained by food, lust, and the drive to pass on our names.

When he had first allied with this being, had he ever anticipated such an outcome? Who could have foreseen that a seemingly lowly trickster would one day transform into a genuine would-be Buddha, intent on delivering souls? And the first soul to be delivered was himself.

Wait—I understand now!

A sudden insight struck him, bringing wild joy, before he composed himself again.

No wonder so many failed. To strive deliberately is to violate the system’s true intent. As this being said, only by truly letting go can one truly receive. Only by being a true good person can one receive the true system.

At that moment, a system notification chimed.

“First atone, then become human.”

Upon hearing this, his mind cleared entirely. He leapt from bed.

“Benefactor, what are you about to do?”

“To let go.”

Lang Sheng left his room, entered an elevator, and descended to sublevel three. Winding his way through the corridors, he finally arrived at a heavily fortified dungeon.

After three layers of security, he used his retinal scan and fingerprints to unlock the final door and entered the last cell.

Within was an old man—a paraplegic, both legs useless.

The old man had been sleeping deeply, but at Lang Sheng’s arrival, he awoke instantly, forcing himself into a seated position on the bed.

His eyes blazed with hatred as he stared at Lang Sheng. “Hmph. I thought you’d wait a few more years—at least until your people had fully mastered the core technologies—before dealing with me.”

“No, you’re wrong. I’m here to let go.”

Lang Sheng’s face radiated compassion as he shook his head.

“Let go? What a joke! You, a bandit and a villain, capable of letting go? What could you possibly relinquish?” The old man laughed bitterly.

Lang Sheng did not argue. Instead, he raised his right hand and brought it down hard on his own right leg.

He thought he heard a faint, incredulous curse ring in his ear.

A sharp crack, and he collapsed to the floor.

Yet it was not over.

Lying prone, he lifted his left hand and struck his left leg with equal force.

“There. Your legs are returned to you. Tomorrow, I’ll return this place to you as well.”

The old man stared, dumbstruck, his mouth agape as if he could swallow a lightbulb.

“You… Are you possessed, or simply mad?”

In countless sleepless nights, as the true builder and first administrator of Copper Bastion, he had envisioned a hundred possible ends. The best: that his mysterious homeland would send someone to rescue him, so he could continue managing this settlement—one built at great cost. The worst: that the brutal bandit would simply kill him and his imprisoned companions.

But years had passed, and no rescue came. Perhaps the mysterious ones cared only for the restoration of civilization, not for who held the reins of this vast fortune.

The bandit had never killed him, only sending someone when malfunctions occurred, to ask for technical solutions. He could not refuse to answer—if he did, his companions would suffer. This bandit still had some humanity; he had not killed the others—or perhaps he simply understood that the more companions he left alive, the greater the old man’s bonds and constraints.

So long as his companions survived, he could not bear to see Copper Bastion cease functioning, nor dare he sabotage anything—for then those who had narrowly escaped death would perish in the evil tides.

What he never imagined was that the bandit, who had seized everything through force and cunning, would suddenly repent and seek to return it all.

Yet the old man, after a moment’s thought, sneered.

“Don’t pretend to be a good man. Spare me your self-sacrifice—you want more of my secrets, don’t you? Too bad. I’ll never tell you. Not even under threat of death will I reveal where those technologies or those building materials came from.”

Once, perhaps, he had some naïve hope in the goodness of wasteland humanity; now, he saw clearly that the new order was ruled by power and profit, with no hint of the old morality or human decency.

Lang Sheng was about to reply when a new voice sounded.

“The Good Person System has been activated.”

In an instant, all previous concerns vanished from his mind. It was finally activated! All his efforts had paid off. He must hurry back, seize this opportunity, become a god, become a legend!

Wait—how was he to get back now?

This was a secret prison, with guards stationed beyond three layers of security, strictly forbidden from entering for fear of collusion with the old man.

Never mind, he would crawl back if he must. He had broken his own legs—he would crawl, tears or no.

He began the desperate journey back.

At that moment, “Mr. Sun’s” voice echoed in his mind again.

“Impressive, benefactor. Your insight exceeds my expectations. But is this truly letting go? Can you really abandon such a vast estate?”

“Let go of what? Did I say anything?” Lang Sheng retorted.

“You broke your own legs and promised to return everything. Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten already,” Mr. Sun said, astonished.

“Ah, form is emptiness, emptiness is form; all is void. What I said is void, too. Alas, these broken legs, though—they hurt for real,” Lang Sheng replied, rubbing his legs in regret.

Mr. Sun was speechless.

Deep in the dungeon, the old man watched and shook his head in scorn. “So it is. Just a guilty soul, haunted by nightmares, seeking redemption. Once he finds peace, he’ll go right back to his old ways.”

But Lang Sheng had no time for either of them. While dragging himself outward, he eagerly checked the newly activated system.

“‘Mission Guidance’ is now online.

Mission One: Protection.

An endlessly repeating quest.

Use the Core of Spirit or similar items to exchange for power and protect the innocent.

Mission Two: A Good Deed Each Day.

An endlessly repeating quest.

Perform one good deed each day.

Reward: Gain a sliver of power; improve oneself.

…”