“Xiao Shen, about the design proposal… I had another small idea yesterday. Look here—if we tweak it , it’ll be even better. Don’t you agree?”
Ahem. “You don’t think I’m being too nitpicky, do you?”
Shen Ge stepped out of the conference room, the client Mr. Chen’s words still ringing in his ears. If he remembered correctly, this was the seventeenth time Mr. Chen had “had a small idea.”
Seventeen revisions to the proposal in a single week!
It felt like being pinned down by a group of burly men and thoroughly humiliated seventeen times in a row!
Shen Ge had almost flipped the table on the spot—until Mr. Chen casually mentioned a 5% bonus fee. Suddenly, Shen Ge decided that enduring one more round of “humiliation” was acceptable. After all, the client was king.
“Finished with the meeting, Shen Ge? Want some coffee?” The new receptionist—a pretty, kind-hearted girl—smiled at him.
With a face handsome enough to attract wealthy cougars in Porsches, Shen Ge was no stranger to such “special attention” from his female coworkers.
“No thanks. Gotta revise the proposal. Heading out for a site survey.”
“Oh… Got plans this weekend? Maybe dinner?”
“Yeah, if I’m not stuck working.”
The receptionist sighed. She knew it was hopeless. As the company’s star designer, Shen Ge spent three and a half weekends out of four buried in overtime.
Shen Ge left the office and took a cab to Lushan International, the most upscale villa district in Rong City’s eastern district.
Mr. Chen’s luxury villa renovation was Shen Ge’s project, and this latest “small idea” involved adding a pet room next to his daughter’s bedroom on the second floor.
Seventeen revisions. Over thirty site visits. Shen Ge could now navigate the villa blindfolded.
All he wanted was to finalize the damn proposal. Until then, construction couldn’t start—which meant delayed payment.
As he opened the door to the adjacent room, a shadowy figure dropped from the ceiling.
In the center of the room, a black cat stood with its fur bristling, green eyes wide and hostile. Its mouth opened in a hiss—but no sound came out.
“Leave your vocal cords at home?” Shen Ge joked. The villa was still unfinished, so a stray cat sneaking in wasn’t surprising.
Whether offended or provoked, the cat suddenly lunged at him.
Not keen on a rabies shot, Shen Ge swung his backpack like a baseball bat, sending the cat crashing into the wall.
Strangely, despite the brutal impact—which looked painful—the collision produced no sound. No thud, no screech. Nothing.
The cat staggered up, shook its head, and glared at Shen Ge with even greater malice, its soundless hiss eerie in the silence.
“What’s your problem?”
Shen Ge backed toward the door, planning to grab a stick and shoo the cat out. But as he retreated, the cat pounced again. Startled, he yanked the door shut—
The door clamped around the cat’s neck mid-leap.
You brought this on yourself.
Poking the motionless cat with his foot, Shen Ge wondered if it was dead or just unconscious. As he reached to toss it outside, a mechanical ding echoed in his skull, startling him so badly he hurled the cat against the wall.
The poor creature slid limply to the floor.
[Congratulations, Host! You have slain a Tier-4 Anomaly (Trait: Silent). System activated!]
The sudden ding had scared him, but the word “system” instantly wiped away his fatigue.
As an overworked office drone, Shen Ge’s only escapes were idle mobile games and web novels. He’d spent decades on fiction platforms—he knew exactly what a “system” meant.
“Did the Earth finally take pity on us wage slaves and drop a ‘one-click proposal fixer’ on me?”
[Basic modules updated: Attributes, Missions, Logs. Additional functions will unlock as Host’s rating improves.]
[Host has eliminated a Tier-4 Anomaly (Trait: Silent). You may exchange the corpse for 3,000 system points (for equipment/items) or allow the system to devour it and extract its Trait.]
[Note: Only Tier-4+ Anomalies possess Traits, which are unique. Upon death, a Trait transfers to a newly born Anomaly—or, rarely, a higher-tier one. (Exception: Traits absorbed by Host are permanently removed from circulation.)]
*(When a Trait transfers, the new Anomaly awakens it only upon reaching Tier-4. At Tiers 1-3, its energy mimics the Trait’s effects.)*
System points? Traits?
A veteran wage slave and gamer, Shen Ge adapted quickly. He lifted the cat by its scruff—limp and lifeless now.
*This thing was a Tier-4 Anomaly?* It had attacked fiercely, but died from a door? If anything, the system felt more unnatural.
[Tier-4 Anomaly (Trait: Silent) – Value: 3,000 points.]
[Devour to extract Trait.]
As Shen Ge held the corpse, two green-text options materialized in his vision like a sci-fi HUD.
Gacha mechanics were familiar, but the system’s emphasis on “unique Tier-4 Traits” hinted at their rarity.
Why gamble when I can test this ‘Trait’ first?
The cat’s body dissolved into light. Shen Ge’s hand froze mid-air, his pulse spiking—not from fear, but exhilaration.
[Tier-4 Anomaly (Trait: Silent) devoured successfully. Trait “Silent” extracted. Attribute panel updated.]
A holographic display projected onto his retinas:
Attributes (Baseline: 100% = healthy adult male)
Strength: 83% (Weak. You’re at 0.83x standard. Aim for 1.)
Agility: 77% (Weak. Pathetic.)
Constitution: 63% (Dangerously low. Near the 0.5x “sudden death” threshold.)
Spirit: 159% (*Recovers 10%/hour after ability use. Speed affected by rating/gear.*)
Silent: Enter soundless state. Costs 0.5% Spirit/sec. Stackable with other Traits.
Shen Ge’s mood soured at his abysmal physical stats—courtesy of desk-job decay—but the bigger question was: *Why was that cat a Tier-4 Anomaly? Because it lacked a meow?*
Still, who wouldn’t want a system that promised a supernatural edge to their mundane life? If mechas were a man’s romance, systems were their dream.