> [Copying complete: "Enhanced Muscle Reflex (Primitive)" acquired. Duration: 30 minutes. Note: Insufficient spiritual foundation—stored as temporary skill only.]
A faint warmth spread across Qin Yu's limbs—not dramatic, but there. His fingers twitched. His legs tensed.
He stood, raised one foot, and slowly pressed it down again.
Balance—sharper. Coordination—subtly tuned. Like his body had been… cleaned of friction.
Nothing supernatural, but for a five-year-old child? A meaningful edge.
The rat squeaked, seemingly offended, and darted back under the barrel.
Qin Yu made a mental note.
"Cost?"
He glanced at the system.
> [Energy Draw: 0.5% stamina and minor neural strain detected. Recommend rest before repeated use.]
"Neural strain…"
The headache hit like a whisper. Not pain, but pressure behind his eyes, like a finger gently pushing against the back of his mind.
Not dangerous. But not free, either.
He lay back down again, letting the effect settle.
The Copy/Steal module wasn't without price. It likely depended on the strength of the target and the complexity of the skill. Right now, stealing from a rat was easy. Later?
Humans. Spirit beasts. Cultivated skills.
He'd need to be selective. Opportunistic.
He switched back to Scan.
Nothing new in the village perimeter. A few villagers were starting their routines—no one coming toward him.
Still safe.
Still hidden.
He hovered over Copy/Steal again, more carefully this time.
There was a Demo Option for isolated testing—he hadn't seen it before. Curious, he selected it.
> [Test Skill Extraction: "Haystack Load Bearing Stability" – passive sensory read for hay density]
[Effect: Allows subconscious adjustment of pressure when lying on uneven straw bedding.]
[Copy? Duration: Permanent, but trivial.]
He frowned.
"...Sure. Why not."
> [Copying...]
A faint shimmer passed through his head. No physical change, just a flicker of awareness—he could now, absurdly, sense the most stable part of the bed beneath him.
He laughed quietly.
"This thing's overpowered and ridiculous."
Then he grew still.
Test after test confirmed it: the system obeyed him. Quietly, efficiently, and with logic. It didn't overwhelm him with gifts. It gave tools—and left him to wield them smartly.
Perfect.
He sat back against the wall, fingers drumming against his thigh, staring at the faded ceiling.
He would wait.
He would learn.
And when the world blinked again… he would be ready to blink back.
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