The digital prompt hovered in Lin Hao's vision, a silent, expensive gatekeeper to his sister's future.
[Upgrade: Level 4: Common Root] [Cost: 50,000 UP]
Fifty thousand points.
It was enough to upgrade his own Vajra Body to High-Grade. It was half the cost of perfecting his own Azure Ocean Gongfa. It was a week's worth of old income, gone in a second.
But as he looked at Lin Meng, pale, sweating, holding her arm where the meridians had cramped, the points felt like nothing but numbers.
"Turn around," Lin Hao said softly. "Face the wall."
Lin Meng hesitated, then obeyed, swiveling on the metal workbench to face the cold concrete wall of the bunker. "Is this... part of the Legacy?"
"The most important part," Lin Hao lied. "The Legacy isn't just a book you read. It's a power you inherit. But your body wasn't ready to receive it. That's why you got sick."
He stepped up behind her. He could see the tension in her shoulders. She was terrified that she was broken, that she had failed the test of this new, magical world.
"I'm going to fix the pathways," he said. "I'm going to force them open. It's going to feel... weird. Not painful, like the overload. But deep. Like your bones are itching."
"I can take it," she whispered. "Just... don't let me be weak, Brother."
Lin Hao placed his right palm flat against her spine, right between her shoulder blades. He could feel the heat of her feverish, chaotic Qi radiating through her shirt.
"You were never weak, Meng," he said. "You just had the wrong engine."
He closed his eyes. He focused on the interface.
He didn't look at the Peak-Grade Gongfa he was giving up. He didn't calculate the delay to his Planar Ascension.
He focused entirely on the connection between his hand and her back.
"System," he commanded silently. "Execute Upgrade."
[Deducting 50,000 UP.] [Balance: 135,650 UP.]
The numbers tumbled. His fortune shrank.
And then, the energy hit.
It didn't come from his Dantian. It came from the void, channeled through his body like he was a conduit for a god. A massive, silent pulse of pure, restructuring potential surged down his arm and into her spine.
"Ah!" Lin Meng gasped, her back arching.
"Breathe," Lin Hao ordered, his hand keeping her steady. "Don't fight it. Let it change you."
This wasn't the gentle "Purification" of a Peak upgrade. This was Evolution.
Inside Lin Meng's body, the fundamental architecture of her spirit was being torn down and rebuilt. The "Inferior" meridians, narrow, twisted, and brittle, were flooded with the System's omnipotent energy. They didn't burst. They expanded. They straightened. The walls of her spiritual veins thickened, reinforcing themselves with a new, durable elasticity.
Lin Meng gripped the edge of the workbench, her knuckles white.
"It feels... it feels like ants," she hissed through gritted teeth. "Inside my marrow. Everywhere."
"That's growth," Lin Hao said, keeping his hand firm. "That's the 'Common' becoming the standard."
For a full minute, the bunker was silent except for her ragged breathing and the hum of the lights. Lin Hao watched his UP balance settle at its new, lower number.
He felt a pang of loss for the points. It was instinct. He was a hoarder by nature.
But then he felt the change under his palm. The heat coming off her back changed. It wasn't the feverish, chaotic heat of friction anymore.
It was a steady, rhythmic warmth. The Qi inside her was no longer crashing against walls; it was flowing.
The process ended as abruptly as it began. The System interface flashed a green confirmation.
[Upgrade Complete.] [Target: Lin Meng | Talent: Level 4: Common Root]
Lin Hao pulled his hand back.
Lin Meng slumped forward, bracing herself against the wall, panting heavily. Sweat soaked her shirt.
"Is it... done?" she wheezed.
"It's done," Lin Hao said.
He walked around to face her. She looked exhausted, like she had run a marathon, but her color was returning. The sickly pallor of the Qi Deviation was gone, replaced by a healthy, flushed glow.
"How do you feel?"
She took a deep breath. She hesitated, waiting for the burning pain in her chest to return.
It didn't.
She inhaled deeper. The air in the bunker, recycled and stale, tasted sweet. She could feel the ambient Reiki in the room, not just vaguely sensing it, but feeling it brush against her skin like a physical breeze.
She looked at her hands. They didn't look different. But when she clenched her fist, she felt a connection to her Dantian that was clear, direct, and immediate.
"I feel..." She looked up at him, her eyes wide with wonder. "I feel empty. But... a good empty. Like a room with the windows open."
"That's capacity," Lin Hao said.
He smiled. It was an expensive smile, costing 50,000 UP. But it was worth it.
"Now," he said, "try the Chant again."