Chapter Sixty-Two: A Surge of Power in the Fist

He opened his eyes in a haze.

After two hours of sleep, Huang Yunshuo didn't feel his fatigue dissipate; instead, a heavier, muddled discomfort weighed upon him. Sensing something was wrong, he forced himself out of bed, staggering as he gripped the wall for support, and opened the door. His body nearly gave way, and he pitched forward uncontrollably.

Smack.

His body crashed hard onto the metal floor, pain and the taste of blood blooming in his forehead and nose, finally rousing some clarity in his mind.

Ye Piaoxue, who was at the observation deck, hurried over at the sound, just in time to see Huang Yunshuo stumbling into the restroom.

Listening to the violent rush of water and the sounds of coughing from inside, Ye Piaoxue’s delicate brows knitted together. She sensed something out of the ordinary.

“Huang, I’ve left your warmed meal in your room!” she called sweetly in the direction of the bathroom.

“Got it!” came Huang Yunshuo’s somewhat stiff reply from within.

Ye Piaoxue made her way toward her own quarters. After passing her room, she lightened her steps, descended to the first floor of the spaceship, and found herself alone in the cockpit.

The main computer’s repair prompt showed nine hours remaining. Damage level: 74%. Upon completion, expected to reduce to 59%.

She called up the corridor cameras on the second floor of the ship and watched the feed. Huang Yunshuo’s cabin door was open, his body drenched in cold sweat and as pale as a ghost. He fell flat on his face to the floor. Only when her footsteps approached did he scramble up and rush into the restroom, bracing himself against the wall.

“What on earth is happening?” A cold sweat slid down Ye Piaoxue’s back.

She was a woman with a sharply honed intuition. Huang’s absence at dinner already struck her as odd, and the sound of a fall in the corridor made her all the more uneasy.

“I’ll observe a little longer before acting,” she decided, leaving the cockpit.

At the washbasin, his face soaked with icy water, Huang Yunshuo exhaled deeply, feeling his strength slowly return, his chilled body gradually warming.

“Could the particle shockwave be affecting my body earlier than expected?” The terrifying thought flashed through Huang Yunshuo’s mind as he gritted his teeth.

“How could this be?”

He stared at his still-robust, taut figure. After freshening up, he headed straight to the training room.

Bang bang bang! Bang... bang bang bang...

The rapid, thunderous sound of punches crashed through the air as the three-hundred-pound iron-sand punching bag before him was nearly sent flying.

“Lowest punch force: 1,338 pounds; highest: 1,634 pounds; average: 1,480 pounds.”

Huang Yunshuo stared at the statistics, dumbfounded.

Normally, his average punch force was only around 1,350 pounds; sometimes the lowest didn’t even reach 1,000, and the highest never surpassed 1,500. What was going on? Why had his strength surged so suddenly?

“Could the system have made an error?”

He reset the data, took a deep breath, and focused even more intently before launching another storm of blows at the 300-pound bag.

“Lowest punch force: 1,440 pounds; highest: 1,701 pounds; average: 1,533 pounds.”

Damn!

Huang Yunshuo was stunned. Unconvinced, he performed a series of other exercises—straight-leg lifts, deep squats—and without exception, every metric had clearly risen.

Every statistic had increased by at least 10%!

How was this possible? Was it really the effect of the particle shockwave?

Huang Yunshuo’s heart pounded wildly. But if this was a blessing, why had he felt so wretched and close to death upon waking?

With these doubts lingering, he returned to his room and ate the meal Ye Piaoxue had warmed for him. Suddenly, a violent pain seized his abdomen.

He rushed to the restroom, and after a noisy ordeal, nearly suffocated from the stench of his own excrement.

“Damn it, it reeks! I’m going to die!”

He dry-heaved as he cleaned up, but afterward, felt invigorated, filled with inexhaustible energy, as if he could fell a wild bull with a single punch. He could hardly wait to dive back into the game.

“Screw it, let’s just keep leveling up and slaying monsters for equipment!”

He donned his helmet in a flash. The world spun, and he found himself before the blacksmith’s shop.

“Brother Wang! How’s business?” Huang Yunshuo strode in, calling out loudly.

Inside, many players were having their gear repaired or requesting Wang Hammer’s apprentices to forge new equipment. Startled by Huang Yunshuo’s voice, they all glanced his way.

“Oh, it’s you! How’s the weapon? Still suits you?” Wang Hammer, drenched in sweat and built like a tower, was taking a break. He radiated an astonishing heat as he laughed heartily.

“I’m here to hold you accountable, Brother Wang!” Huang Yunshuo declared. “This rocket launcher you forged is so amazing, I used it until it’s almost dead. That’s why I’ve come running to you!”

He set the rocket launcher, now with only 1% durability left, on the counter.

Wang Hammer stared at the battered weapon—barrel cracked, muzzle glowing red, even the sight and magazine askew—his mouth twitching, speechless for a long moment.

“You reckless brute! Don’t you care about your own weapon?” Wang Hammer suddenly lost his temper and roundly berated Huang Yunshuo.

Huang Yunshuo chuckled sheepishly, bowing his head. He couldn’t argue; only when absolutely necessary did anyone use their weapon to the brink of destruction before seeking repairs these days.

To someone like Wang Hammer, who treasured the art of forging above all, Huang Yunshuo’s abuse of his craft was unforgivable.

“Don’t be mad, Brother Wang! I swear it won’t happen again. I’ll treat you to a feast at the Emerald Flower Pavilion—eat and drink your fill, isn’t that wonderful?”

Seeing Huang Yunshuo’s sincere apology, Wang Hammer reluctantly nodded and began repairs.

The restoration cost Huang Yunshuo a hefty 500 copper coins, and treating Wang Hammer—the infamous glutton—to a meal at the Emerald Flower Pavilion cost another 300. With only 2,700 copper coins left, Huang Yunshuo’s heart ached bitterly.

He bought twenty sets of rockets for backup and wandered around.

With the rocket launcher in hand, was it time to craft alloy armor or a propulsion pack next?

The propulsion pack would let him soar into the sky, no question.

The alloy armor, according to the blueprints, not only provided formidable defense but also came with spare ammo magazines, one in each bulging shoulder.

Each shoulder housed a compartment, its hatch revealing part of the magazine within.

But he couldn’t understand the purpose of these twin magazines. If he ran out of rockets, couldn’t he just pull more from his inventory and reload immediately?

Should he pursue flight first, or make the alloy armor?

He hesitated.