The 24-hour news cycle was no longer a "cycle." It was a singular, stunned, repeating loop.
Lin Hao was back in his warehouse, his "Masked Expert" robes and mask carefully stored in a new, hidden compartment. He was "Lin Hao" again, sitting on his cheap folding chair, watching the world react to his "flick."
Every channel, every network, every live-stream, was playing the same grainy, vertical, shaky smartphone footage.
"...and here we see it again, just... look at this," an analyst on a national news panel said, his voice trembling. The footage played for the hundredth time. The blur of the pounce. The man in the gray mask not moving. The flick. The pop. The 800-pound monster, dead.
"We have no energy signature," a panicked-looking BSA spokesperson said at a separate, disastrous press conference. "No heat bloom, no 'Gongfa' aura. The... the animal simply... expired. It was a kinetic, physical event that... that defies our current understanding of physics."
"To be clear," a reporter shouted, "a Level 5 beast, which just humiliated a Level 4 'Prodigy' from a Guardian Family... was killed by this... this person... with a finger?"
The BSA spokesperson just stared, his face pale. He had no answer.
The world was terrified. The BSA, who had just established itself as the global authority, was now revealed to be hopelessly, pathetically outgunned.
The Guardian Families were humiliated. Their "Prodigies," their "heritage," their "Crushing Jade Palms", all of it had been exposed as a fragile, second-rate joke in the face of real power.
The world, which had just been divided into "Mortals" and "The Awakened," now had a third, terrifying, unknown category: The Gods.
And the search for this one, the "Man in the Gray Mask," was now the single, highest priority on the planet.
Lin Hao muted the TV.
The noise was irrelevant. He had done his job.
He was a Level 7 cultivator. His realm was LOCKED again, but he didn't care. His High-Grade Gongfa was humming, his Dantian a star of condensed power. His family was, for the moment, safe. His sister had a Gongfa and a box of pills. His "Masked Expert" identity was now a terrifying, mythical shield.
He checked his status.
[Upgrade Points (UP): 16,530]
It was a fortune. And it was nothing.
He looked at the [$Upgrade Others$] tab. The number was burned into his mind.
[Target: Lin Meng | Talent: L3 -> L4 | Cost: 50,000 UP]
He looked at his own [$Self Upgrade$] tab.
[Talent: L4 -> L5 (Superior Root)]? (Cost: 50,000 UP)
His jaw tightened. The 100x multiplier on his sister was gone. It was now a 1:1 cost. Her next upgrade cost the same as his. 50,000 UP.
He needed hundreds of thousands of UP, just for his family's talents. He needed millions to upgrade the world.
He looked at his 16,530 UP. He looked at his next "salary" of 12,800 UP.
His exponential loop, his "tidal wave" of power... it was a leaky faucet. It was too slow.
He couldn't wait for his daily drip. He needed capital.
He had to sell.
But he couldn't just "sell knives" to Old Man Feng. That was a one-off, Low-Grade, 15-million-dollar deal. That was chump change.
He needed billions of mortal money. He needed to sell Mid-Grade items. High-Grade items. He needed to sell pills, formations, Gongfa.
And to do that, he couldn't meet in alleys. He couldn't use a paranoid, terrified pawn broker.
He needed a store. He needed a bank. He needed a fortress.
He looked around his 12,000-square-foot, empty, concrete box. He looked at the [Low-Grade Spirit Rank Concealment Formation (Flags)] he'd already installed.
They were trash.
They were Low-Grade. They'd stop a Level 2 BSA agent. They wouldn't stop a real expert, not for a second. Not now, when the entire world was looking for him.
His new priority was set.
He had to stop being a "hidden boss" and start being a hidden enterprise.
He looked at his 16,530 UP.
It was time to stop "selling" and start building. It was time to build his lair.