The warehouse was his sanctuary.
The world outside was a carnival of chaos. The "Hero of Campus" was the city's new favorite topic. The BSA was holding daily press conferences, and the first "Cultivation Academies" were already being fast-tracked, with entrance exams, feats of strength and speed, being set up in stadiums.
Lin Hao saw none of it. He was a ghost. He had his new routine, and it was the only thing that mattered.
He was sitting cross-legged on the cold concrete floor, a small circle of empty, plastic-wrapped steak packages forming a perimeter around him. He was clean, fed, and focused.
His phone, his new master, was in his lap. The time read 11:59:50 PM.
He was not watching the world. He was watching the clock.
This was the ritual. This was the real work.
His current UP, after buying his Level 2 Talent and the formation, was 350 UP.
11:59:58 11:59:59
00:00
The clock ticked over. Midnight.
His will, already poised, struck. He didn't wait for his payout. He paid his tithe.
He had the [$World Upgrade$] tab open. The cost, as he'd known it would, had scaled with his next reward.
[Daily Boost: Increase Global Reiki Density (0.01%)]? (Cost: 40 UP)
"Confirm."
[Deducting 40 UP. 310 UP Remaining.] [Investment Confirmed. Global Reiki Density (0.01%) added to global queue.]
His reward for this simple, disciplined act was immediate.
[Ascension Bonus: ACTIVE. Your next daily UP gain will be 1,600 UP.]
A second later, his salary arrived.
[Daily UP Generation: Active.] [Ascension Bonus: Applied (x2).] [You have received 800 UP.]
The numbers on his interface spun. His 310 UP was joined by the new 800.
[Upgrade Points (UP): 1110]
Lin Hao let out a long, slow breath. The number was beautiful.
One thousand, one hundred, and ten.
This was real money. This was the currency of a god. He thought of his family, of the 5,000 and 10,000 UP price tags for their safety. He was still short, but for the first time, he felt like he was gaining on it.
He had a plan. He was a [Level 6] cultivator with a [Level 2: Waste Root]. It was an absurd, unbalanced combination.
He had 1110 UP. The next talent upgrade, [Level 3: Inferior Root], costs 1,000 UP. The next cultivation upgrade, [Level 7: Viscera Fortification], costs 100 UP.
1,000 + 100 = 1,100.
He could afford both. He could upgrade his foundation and his realm, all in one night. He would be a [Level 7] cultivator with an [Inferior Root] by sunrise.
The frustration and impatience that had been simmering in him for days was finally about to be released.
He went for the power-up first. The [Level 7] upgrade. It was the cheaper, faster, more satisfying button to push.
"System," he commanded, his will surging with anticipation. "Open $Self Upgrade$."
The tab appeared, his status glowing.
[Cultivation: Level 6: Marrow Cleansing (Purification)] [Upgrade: Level 7: Viscera Fortification (Internal Shield)]? (Cost: 100 UP)
It was so cheap. He had 1110 UP. This was nothing. It was the first step of his grand upgrade.
"Confirm," he thought, ready to feel the new surge of power, the strengthening of his internal organs, the next step on the Houtian path.
The System did not take his money. It did not give him the upgrade.
Instead, a new, bright-red, flashing error message appeared, dominating his vision.
[Upgrade FAILED.]
[Weekly Cultivation Upgrade: LOCKED]
Lin Hao's mind went blank. Locked?
He stared at the message, his elation vanishing, replaced by a cold, sharp shock.
[Reason: Host has already used the weekly 'Realm Breakthrough' quota (1/1).] [Time until next quota reset: 4 days, 21 hours remaining.]
He was stuck.
He stared at the countdown. Four days. Twenty-one hours. He had been so drunk on his exponential money loop, he had completely forgotten the time loop.
He had used his weekly upgrade when he'd first received the system, that very first night, when he'd rocketed from Level 1 to Level 5. That had been his "one" for the week.
And he couldn't "buy" his way out of it.
This wasn't a paywall. It was a time-wall. It was the System's first, true, non-negotiable limitation.
He was a god... who had to wait in line.
He was stuck at [Level 6: Marrow Cleansing] for four more days, no matter how much UP he had. He looked at his 1110 UP, and it suddenly felt like a pile of cash in his hand, in a store that had just closed for the week.