Chapter 7: The Psion

With a muffled thud, the burly man staggered back a few steps, caught completely off guard.

But that was all.

Beyond his prosthetic right arm, the man had replaced his internal skeleton with a specialized alloy frame, installed a more powerful second heart, and integrated various other scattered implants, bringing his total weight to over two hundred kilograms. The impact from his opponent had been powerful, certainly, but it was nowhere near enough to cause any real damage.

Under the enhanced dynamic vision of his cybernetic eyes, Song Shi’s movements were crystal clear. Without the strengthening of cybernetic implants, such a speed—barely quick even by the standards of an ordinary human—was not worth mentioning.

The burly man sneered and reached out a massive hand to grab Song Shi.

However, Song Shi’s reaction was faster than he had anticipated. After the collision, Song Shi jerked his head to dodge the hand, then moved forward instead of retreating. He pressed close to the man’s body and reached for the stun gun holstered at the man’s waist.

"Trying to take my gun?"

The burly man let out a cruel laugh. With his grip strength, he figured the other man wouldn't even be able to pry it loose; how could flesh and blood compete with machinery? In the face of a body with over 35% cybernetic modification, an "unaugmented" natural human was as fragile as a block of tofu.

In the burly man’s field of vision, translucent dashed lines popped up from Song Shi’s body. These were generated by the "Kestrel Eye," a tactical chip lodged deep within his brain, produced by the weapons manufacturer Marshall Brothers, capable of analyzing and predicting a target’s trajectory.

Everything was under control.

The burly man raised the stun gun, standing his ground, and fired directly at the predicted point of the trajectory. At such close range, aided by the Kestrel Eye’s predictive capabilities, it was impossible to miss.

In the second before the stun gun fired, the burly man was already thinking about how he would explain the situation to Vidani once he returned, dragging the man, now reduced to a puddle of electrified mush.

Yet, the next instant, the burly man’s expression shifted violently.

In his vision, all the projected movement trajectories suddenly shuddered, scrambled, and dissolved into a chaotic mess.

This was... a program analysis overload?!

Song Shi’s form shifted abruptly, moving with a speed far exceeding his previous efforts to dodge the electrified dart. Without losing a shred of momentum, he pressed forward and delivered a sharp, vicious hand-blade strike toward the burly man’s neck.

*Bang!*

The electrified projectile struck the wall of the stall, sparking in a shower of electrical discharge. Almost simultaneously, Song Shi’s hand-blade struck the burly man’s neck with a dull, heavy sound.

Beneath the recessed artificial skin, a flash of metallic luster appeared—a protective layer of thin, overlapping armor plates embedded under the surface. It wasn't just the metal skeleton and the prosthetic arm; the man had replaced even his neck.

"I haven't had 'vital spots' like that for a long time, kid!"

The power behind that hand-blade was indeed unexpected. Combined with the sudden burst of speed, it had reached the absolute limit of a natural human—there was definitely something fishy about this so-called "volunteer." But as for the specifics, he would figure it out once he dismantled the man’s limbs!

The burly man laughed wildly. Lacking time to fire again, he swung the stun gun like an iron club.

Song Shi did not dodge. He simply let out a low growl, his entire body tensing until the veins in his forearms stood out. He ignored the incoming blow, putting all his strength into pushing the hand-blade deeper.

"Still trying to do something usele—"

The word "less" never left his lips.

A burst of crimson-gold flame erupted from the hand-blade as it bit into the neck. The flames enveloped the blade, roaring like a vengeful spirit, and drove it forward another fraction of an inch.

But, in the end, it was still flesh and blood.

The hand-blade was sharp enough to slice through the outer layer of artificial skin, but against the metallic-sheened protective layer beneath, it could not truly penetrate. The same held true for the crimson-gold flames.

The burly man’s subcutaneous protective shell was made of a chrome-plated steel with a melting point of 1,700 degrees Celsius. While he wouldn't survive exposure to such extreme temperatures—his internal organs would fail long before the armor plate did—a mere moment of contact was nothing. According to his "haptic monitoring module," the flames didn't even exceed 300 degrees.

But that realization lasted only a heartbeat.

The burly man’s expression suddenly froze. When the crimson-gold flame surged, his thoughts stalled.

Or, more accurately, he felt as though his mind was a raw piece of metal lying on an anvil, having just taken a direct hit from a forging hammer. This sudden, heavy blow didn't affect his body, but it caused his consciousness to hang for a split second.

It all happened in a flash.

The hand-blade struck, the flames surged. The burly man’s mind stalled, but due to his immense momentum, the swing of the stun gun connected with Song Shi, who had no time to dodge. The impact sent Song Shi flying, dragging him across the smooth tile floor of the restroom in a long, sliding trail.

"Psionic energy?! Damn it! You’re a Psion! Then how did you pass the initial medical board screening—"

The words cut off abruptly.

A look of panic flickered in the burly man’s eyes. In his vision, the young man on the floor, who had just propped himself up, raised both hands.

*Click.*

The sound of a safety being disengaged.

In his hand was a pistol.

A "Black Powder H-2," produced by the weapons manufacturer Marshall Brothers—a large-caliber kinetic handgun designed for medium-to-close-range firepower. Muzzle velocity 517 m/s, .45 caliber, total weight 2.035 kg, 12-round capacity... he could even recite the precise specifications of the weapon. It was the very gun that should have been in his own holster, his final insurance policy while escorting volunteers.

"Want to guess?"

Before he could answer, Song Shi aimed at the burly man’s head and pulled the trigger, emptying the entire magazine in one go.

At such close range, facing the raw firepower of the Black Powder H-2, the man’s subcutaneous armor couldn't hold up. Furthermore, the man wasn't insane enough to replace his entire skull with alloy; his head exploded like a rotten watermelon. Milky-white artificial plasma rained down, splattering the walls with dark stains.

"Tactical chips are useful, sure, but if that’s all you rely on, you’re not going to get very far." Song Shi slowly lowered the pistol, steadying his ragged breathing as he rose from the floor. "Learning how to deceive the 'program' is a mandatory course for any expert."

"Blindly increasing your modification level, stuffing yourself with all sorts of junk, terrified of still being human, using trash-tier implants, poor combat awareness, and zero countermeasures against Psionic warfare—if you don't die, who will?"

Song Shi let out a long breath and glanced at the body. "Also, has anyone ever told you that you look ugly when you smile?"

As he spoke, the headless body collapsed backward, hitting the floor with a dull thud.

At some point, the crimson-gold flames on Song Shi’s right hand had extinguished.

Psionic Art: [Forging Flame].

Even Song Shi hadn't expected that after his [Vow], the path would be so generous, granting him a fairly rare Psionic art.

[Forging Flame] was not a technique suited for direct combat. As the name implied, its purpose was "forging." Like a blacksmith smelting ore in a furnace and hammering it on an anvil, a Psion wielding [Forging Flame] could forge themselves day after day, purifying impurities and strengthening their body, even achieving a certain degree of reinforcement for the soul. When applied to weapons, it could also provide an enchantment effect.

It was a foundational ability, leaning towards support.

As for the burly man’s momentary mental lapse, that was Song Shi actively releasing the flame to "forge" his opponent. Whether on oneself or others, "forging" was an agonizing process; it was effectively treating the subject as raw ore, subjecting them to the relentless pounding of a hammer.

The burly man, caught off guard, had effectively taken a hammer to the brain—he had trusted his subcutaneous armor too much, allowing the flames to bake his head continuously. Otherwise, with Song Shi’s current Psionic intensity, having just entered the First Ring, he might not have been able to control the man.

Unfortunately, this kind of point-control was only effective as a surprise attack. Once an enemy was on guard, or if they had built up a resistance after the first hit, its effectiveness would plummet. In the end, it was fundamentally a support ability.

"...Tsk."

Within a single breath, Song Shi felt a surge of pain in his chest. Between the immense strength of the prosthetic arm and the weight of the stun gun, if he hadn't used techniques to deflect the force, he would have broken several bones, not just suffered from bruises and muscle tears.

His current body was still far too fragile.

The series of gunshots would surely alert the research facility; he had to prepare to leave immediately.

Ignoring the blood splattered everywhere, Song Shi quickly stepped forward and knelt. He pulled aside the bulletproof vest—which lacked ceramic plates—and found a row of test tubes in the lining. Identifying them, he realized they were common combat stimulants.

Song Shi grabbed the accompanying pneumatic injector and rolled up his sleeve without hesitation.

Adrenaline, inject! Painkiller, inject! Stimulant, inject! Fatigue-resistance hormone, inject! Military-grade euphoric, inject! Compressed energy gel... wait, eat!

Inject them all!

With the rapid-fire administration of combat drugs, Song Shi felt his physical functions improve a notch—a gift from the [Awakened] Psionic state, which not only restored most of his previous injuries but also enhanced his physical capabilities.

The degree of improvement varied by path and individual, but for Song Shi, his physique was now comparable to that of a top-tier athlete—a significant boost. Of course, this referred to the natural humans of the old era, not the "mod-maniacs" in today’s hyper-athletic sports—those athletes could truly kill a man with a single elbow strike.

*Seems my talent is still quite decent, even now.*

The thought vanished as quickly as it came.

"Hoo—"

He tucked the pistol into the small of his back, cast one last glance at the blood, the corpse, and the scattered test tubes, and without further hesitation, strode out of the restroom.

Now, the real flight for his life began.