"Infatuation, greed, wrath, delusion, life, death—all are void. Life is short; a grand dream, nothing more." Baili Yi spoke in a calm, almost detached tone, yet his voice carried an undercurrent of desolate poetry.
Gao Yang silently committed the words to memory.
"That's about it." Baili Yi stood up and stretched. "Time for me to clock out. See you."
"See you."
Gao Yang watched Baili Yi's retreating figure. The man didn't look like a doctor at all—more like a poet. Still, the conversation had yielded plenty of useful information. It was now basically confirmed: there were six major categories of beasts—Infatuation Beasts, Greed Beasts, Wrath Beasts, Delusion Beasts, Life Beasts, and Death Beasts.
Officer Huang had once mentioned that Wrath Beasts came in three subtypes: Slaughterers, Devourers, and Heralds.
Li Weiwei was most likely a Devourer. She hadn't rushed to kill him back then; the way she tormented him, the things she said… it felt more like she wanted to "consume" him whole.
Aunt He had clearly been a Slaughterer: no words, just immediate violence, bloodthirsty to the core.
As for Heralds, Gao Yang hadn't encountered one yet—and he hoped he never would.
Infatuation Beasts, also called Lost Ones, seemed to have three subtypes as well.
Old Liu who sold spicy noodles belonged to the most harmless, mild variety—probably the most common type in the world. They were relatively easy to spot.
The second type were the eerily convincing Lost Ones. Ordinary awakeners couldn't distinguish them with the naked eye or experience alone; it required a special talent—like Baili Yi's [Red Eyes], or the "mental patient" from before with his [Olfactory] ability. Officer Huang's wife, and probably Gao Yang's own family, fell into this category. Of course, they could also just be unawakened humans. As long as no one "tested" them, they remained Schrödinger's cats—equal chance of being human or beast.
The third type was Wang Zikai. He was simply too bizarre to classify.
And then there was Grandpa Zhang from a few hours ago. Logically, he should have been a first-type Lost One, yet he had suddenly gone berserk without warning, transforming into something grotesquely unnatural. There was a chance that white cat had something to do with it.
Was the white cat itself a beast? Could it be one of the Infatuation, Delusion, Life, or Death varieties?
If every major category had three subtypes, that meant at least eighteen kinds of beasts in total!
Gao Yang sucked in a cold breath. There was no turning back after awakening. He had to join the organization quickly, find a backer, and learn more of the rules. Otherwise, he would forever remain a "closed-eyes player"—blind in the dark, at the mercy of others, surviving purely on luck.
…
At noon, his mother and sister came to the hospital to take over.
Gao Yang went home, showered, and rested. He only slept four hours, yet felt refreshed. Since becoming an awakener, his physical condition had noticeably improved—likely tied to his attribute increases.
He did some quick math: surviving one safe day netted 24 Luck Points. A full month would be 720. Dumping all of them into a single attribute would make him quite formidable.
But Gao Yang had already committed to the Luck multiplier path. He wasn't the type to abandon a strategy halfway, and he hated sunk costs. So from now on: half his Luck Points would go toward awakening new talents, half toward boosting the Luck attribute itself, and any leftovers could be allocated as needed.
That evening, after dinner, Gao Yang headed out. Although his mother had gotten him excused from school, he still decided to attend evening self-study. That way he could check in with Qing Ling face-to-face. She was extremely cautious—never used phones because they left traces. Important matters were always discussed in person.
Right after the first period of self-study ended, Gao Yang was about to look for Qing Ling when Wan Sisi hurried over, concern written all over her face. "Gao Yang, I heard your dad… got hospitalized."
"Yeah. Car accident." Gao Yang nodded.
"Oh my God, is he okay?" She genuinely looked worried.
"He's out of immediate danger, but… it's not looking great." Gao Yang's mood sank. "The doctor said he might be in a wheelchair for the rest of his life."
"No way. Uncle will definitely recover fully." Wan Sisi tried to comfort him. "My uncle had a car accident two years ago. The doctors said he'd be paralyzed from the neck down. But not only did he avoid paralysis—he was walking again a year later. He still needs crutches, but he gets around fine now."
"Thanks." Gao Yang was grateful. Then a thought struck him: maybe Wan Sisi's uncle recovered because he was a beast. Did that mean… if his own father was a beast, he'd likely recover too?
The idea sent a chill through him. How could he even wish for his father to be a beast…?
His mind was a mess. When he looked up, Wan Sisi was still standing there, hesitating as if she wanted to say something.
"Something else?" Gao Yang asked.
"Um, actually…" Wan Sisi's cheeks flushed. "I was going to ask if you're free this Saturday afternoon. It's my birthday, but… never mind. Take good care of your dad."
"Okay…"
"Gao Yang's going." Qing Ling suddenly appeared beside them, startling Gao Yang.
Wan Sisi blinked in surprise, glancing between them, momentarily speechless.
"I'm going too." Qing Ling added flatly. "Am I welcome?"
"Of—of course you're welcome!" Wan Sisi forced a smile, though she looked a little awkward. She hadn't originally planned to invite Qing Ling—not because she disliked her, but because she knew Qing Ling had "androphobia." And this birthday party included several boys; she worried the atmosphere might get tense.
Gao Yang shot Qing Ling a quick warning glance. She ignored it.
"Then… Saturday at 2:30 p.m., Le Baodi. Don't be late." Wan Sisi practically fled after saying it.
Qing Ling sat down beside Gao Yang. "I heard about your dad."
"Why are we going to the birthday party?" Gao Yang asked instead of answering.
Qing Ling lowered her voice. "You've been getting close to Little Sisi lately, and she's been more proactive toward you. I need to observe her closely—see if she's starting to suspect something."
"You're overthinking it…"
"Was I overthinking it with Li Weiwei too?"
Gao Yang fell silent.
…
Over the next two days, Gao Yang went to the hospital every evening to relieve his mother and sister. He slept in the mornings, woke in the afternoons, tidied up, attended evening self-study, met Qing Ling briefly, and sometimes asked Wan Sisi a few English questions.
His father stayed in the ICU for 48 hours before being transferred to a monitored ward. On the third morning, he woke briefly—couldn't speak, only blinked—but soon fell back asleep.
Even that small sign was enough to lift the gloom hanging over the family. For the first time, his mother's furrowed brow relaxed. She even put on makeup again. His sister smiled for the first time in days and resumed her favorite pastime: teasing Gao Yang.
Sunday morning, Gao Yang returned home, showered, and dozed for a bit before waking.
He opened the system. Luck Points: 85.
He spent 60 to attempt another talent awakening—predictably failed. He kept the remaining 25 for now.
Quick calculation: if it took three attempts on average to succeed once, his third talent would cost 180 Luck Points total. After success, the next awakening would cost 120 per attempt; three tries would be 360.
And so on. The Luck Point demand for more talents would grow near-infinite. Ordinary idling wouldn't cut it—not in time for this dangerous world to give him the chance.
Fortune favors the bold. If only there were battles that were "dangerous but not necessarily fatal"—half an hour of fighting could equal days of idling. Once he joined the organization, he'd study hard. Maybe he could find an infinite "experience" farming exploit.
…
At 2 p.m., Gao Yang tidied himself up and headed to Le Baodi. Traffic was bad; he arrived last. A staff member guided him to the private room Wan Sisi had booked.
Just as he reached for the door, he heard a boy inside wailing dramatically:
"I pretend not to see, even when I'm supposed to play along… forcing the person who loves you most to improvise…"
Gao Yang thought: You're forcing everyone listening to become actors too. Singing that badly and still expecting applause? Brutal.
He pushed the door open. Sure enough—it was "Young Master Xuan." Sitting on a high stool by the karaoke machine, microphone in hand, singing with exaggerated passion.
Xuan's full name was Niu Xuan. Not quite a second-generation rich kid, but definitely a little tycoon. His father owned over twenty chain supermarkets in the outskirts. Niu Xuan was generous with money, loved the spotlight, good at rallying friends, and decent-looking. In class, he was something of a celebrity.
Compared to the brainless chaos agent Wang Zikai, Niu Xuan was far more cunning: one face for parents, one for teachers, one for classmates.
Hang out with him and you'd feel superior. Cross him, though, and you'd face subtle, suffocating ostracism that hurt worse than outright bullying. Gao Yang had never been close to Niu Xuan—he was the type Niu Xuan neither bothered with nor targeted.
The moment Gao Yang stepped inside, Niu Xuan's song cut off. He grabbed the mic and shouted with exaggerated enthusiasm:
"Yo! Isn't that Gao Yang? Finally showed up! Everyone's been waiting for you!"
Gao Yang's bladder suddenly felt tight.
This vibe… didn't feel good at all.