Chapter 18: Skill Extraction
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[White Xiaozhi’s Homework Notebook]
[Type: Special Item]
[Level: None]
[Description: You think this is merely a homework notebook? No. It is her obsession.]
[Automatically bound to the player ID. Cannot be traded, transferred, or dropped.]
This was the item the system had automatically placed in Bai Ming’s [Inventory] after he had completely conquered the dungeon [School Days].
To be honest, Bai Ming had no idea what the thing was for. Once removed, it could never be put back into his inventory, so in the end he had simply left it on the stovetop to gather dust.
Bai Ming had searched the [Player Forum] and discovered that [Special Items] came in all varieties. Some were key items for specific dungeons, some served as credentials for opening dungeons, some functioned as identification, and some were even collected by certain special NPCs.
In essence, they were just like those quest items in traditional RPGs that occupied inventory slots while remaining completely unusable.
“The reason [School Days] came into existence was that Teacher Wang wanted to ‘revive’ his son through some kind of ritual.”
“White Xiaozhi was the one who suffered, so this item is clearly connected to a certain dungeon.”
As he marinated the ribs, Bai Ming pondered the matter.
The overall power of a dungeon had a clearly defined upper limit. Even an E-minus dungeon involving gods merely used them as part of its setting; it was impossible for an actual god to leap out into reality.
That was precisely why, after Bai Ming had resolved White Xiaozhi’s resentment, the dungeon had been completely conquered. No unexpected ghostly monstrosity would emerge afterward.
But background settings were by no means useless. In the Twilight Game, the connections between dungeons were exceptionally strong.
The backdrop of today’s low-level dungeon might well become the final boss of tomorrow’s high-level dungeon.
After preparing the ingredients, Bai Ming sprawled lazily on the sofa and browsed the Player Forum while waiting for the ribs to finish marinating.
The [China Region] section had more than a hundred thousand members. Since membership was automatically canceled upon death, all of those hundred thousand-plus members were still alive.
Consequently, the player section of the [China Region] was incredibly lively, with new posts appearing every second.
[Authorities Confirm Mingzhou Incident; Oath of Zhulong Harshly Condemns the Penglai Immortal Alliance]
[The Big One Is Coming! Another A-Minus Dungeon Conquered by the Relevant Authorities]
[Inkshadow Mountains and Rivers Compromise; The Filial Sons Are the Ones Throwing a Fit]
[…]
[Done Pretending? Hard Proof That Reaching for the Firmament Is a Traitor]
The posts really were fascinating. Some deliberately stirred up trouble, some revealed explosive secrets, and some consisted of people hurling insults at one another. It was practically a massive spectacle for onlookers, perfectly satisfying humanity’s instinctive curiosity.
If the relevant authorities had not obtained administrator privileges for the [Player Forum] and established keyword filters and content restrictions, all manner of adult material would probably have been flooding the site long ago.
How did Bai Ming know?
Heh. The [China Region] was restricted, but the forums in other regions were not.
[Hidden Benefits of an F-Rank Evaluation? These Talents Can Send Beginners Soaring!]
Thinking of his own G-rank evaluation, Bai Ming immediately clicked on the post with interest.
The original poster’s username was [I Know Nothing].
“In the evaluation system for the Twilight Game’s beginner missions, an F-rank evaluation is not merely a punishment for failure. It conceals a unique compensation mechanism. When a player receives the lowest evaluation, the system provides several special talents as balancing compensation.
“These talents possess two notable characteristics:
“Excessive power: Their effects are often superior to abilities of the same level obtained through conventional means.
“Cost mechanism: Each comes with a significant negative effect, creating a high-risk, high-reward gamble.
“For example:
[Accursed Body]
[Type: Flawed Talent]
[Level: D-Plus]
[Effect: Because you have endured curses for an extended period, you gain a +4 bonus on saving throws against diseases, toxins, and instant-death effects. However, your Constitution suffers a -2 penalty, to a minimum of 1.]
[Prerequisites: Player level 1; not a construct or undead.]
[Note: This curse is both your shackles and your shield.]
…”
The post went on at considerable length, but it was met with an overwhelming number of mocking replies.
“Did the original poster ever consider how we F-rank players feel while writing this essay?”
“Exactly. I’m an F-rank player, and I’d rather die before entering a dungeon.”
“Those useless F-rankers couldn’t make use of an S-rank talent even if you handed one to them.”
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The mockery generally boiled down to the argument that no matter how good a talent was, its value depended on the person using it.
Those capable of obtaining an F-rank evaluation were, for the most part, hopelessly inept on the battlefield.
They were the sort of bystanders in horror films who passed out on the spot, stood around in a daze, babbled incoherently, and had no idea what to do—in other words, pure dead weight.
Giving such people an excellent talent was simply a waste. They would be unable to bring out its effectiveness.
And anyone with strong psychological fortitude was practically incapable of obtaining an F-rank evaluation in the first place. After all, earning one required clinging to someone powerful while deliberately making a complete mess of things.
Leaving aside how one could obtain information about F-rank evaluations, creating a disaster was easy enough. But without someone powerful to carry you, you were finished. Surely no one would deliberately avoid clearing a dungeon just to farm an F-rank evaluation.
That was why there were even fewer F-rank players than S-rank players. You needed an S-rank player to carry you, and you also had to remain alive after making a mess of everything.
Faced with the mockery, the original poster, [I Know Nothing], did not respond in words.
Instead, they tossed out a screenshot of the system in the newest reply.
[Flawed Talent Extractor]
[Type: Item]
[Level: D-Plus]
[Effect: Consume this item to extract a flawed talent possessed by a player and convert it into a tradable “Flawed Talent Crystal.” The target must consent and be out of combat. After extraction, the original talent is permanently removed from the target. The crystal may be absorbed by another player or used in special synthesis. The highest level of flawed talent that can be extracted by a D-Plus item is D-Plus.]
[Cost: 1,000 Willpower, paid by the user.]
[Requirements: Intelligence at least 15; Willpower at least 10; a written consent contract from the target player, notarized by the system; both parties must be within one meter of each other.]
[Manufacturer: I Know Nothing]
[Note: You think becoming free of your weakness will make you stronger? Ridiculous.]
[Note: I am the manufacturer, “I Know Nothing.” Those interested in purchasing may contact me through the Player Forum.]
[Additional Information: If the target player’s flawed talent is forcibly bound by the system—for example, a flaw derived from a racial trait—the extraction will fail and the item will be destroyed.]
The moment the screenshot appeared, the players erupted, and the post instantly shot to the top of the rankings.
What were talents?
Talents represented a player’s combat power, and unlike skills, they required no expenditure of mana.
But talents were exceptionally difficult to obtain. Apart from the single point granted at level 1, players gained one point every three levels—at levels 3, 6, 9, 12, and so on.
In general, talents could only be acquired through training.
Once a player possessed the Willpower attribute, they could train on their own and, through the distortion of reality by their will, obtain corresponding talents.
Yet none of that could compare with the [Flawed Talent Extractor].
What method of acquiring talents could be more convenient than simply using an item?
Even a flawed talent, if used properly, could rival a C-Plus talent despite being only D-Plus.
After all, with the [Flawed Talent Extractor], one could remove it when it was not needed and equip it again when necessary.
It was equivalent to gaining an additional equipment slot.
The creator of this item, [I Know Nothing], was naturally showered with attention by the players of the [China Region]. Even players from foreign servers flocked to the [China Region] section to follow the discussion.
Bai Ming glanced at his paltry eight hundred game coins and knew that he had no part to play in this revolution.
[Strange Incidents on the Rise Over the Past Six Months! The Terrifying Truth That Ninety-Nine Percent of People Don’t Know!]
Bai Ming found another post that caught his interest.
The original poster was named [Anomaly Observer].
“Since January 2025, reports of rule-based anomalous incidents have increased exponentially across the globe. By the end of June, GAIA had confirmed 12,476 valid cases involving public spaces, residential areas, and cyberspace.
“1. Mysterious ‘rule texts’ appear from unknown sources, such as writing carved into walls, garbled text on electronic displays, or sheets of paper appearing out of thin air.
“2. The rules are logically self-consistent yet contrary to common sense. For example: ‘If you hear crying, immediately extinguish every light source and maintain a smile.’
“3. Those who violate the rules suffer physical or psychological harm, and surveillance equipment is unable to record the entire process accurately.
“Case A: Tokyo, Japan—Subway Station
“1. Fluorescent writing appeared on a platform pillar: ‘When waiting for a train, stand with your back to the tracks. Otherwise, the conductor will not stop for you.’
“2. Three passengers who faced the tracks vanished from the surveillance footage when the train entered the station.
“Case B: Texas, United States—Convenience Store
“1. A handwritten note was attached to the cash register: ‘If a customer pays with a coin dated 1984, accept it and say, “Welcome back.”’
“2. After the clerk failed to follow the rule, every product label in the store turned into gibberish. The clerk disappeared the following day.
“Case C: Chonghu, China—Bus”
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“1. A message appeared on the fare box: ‘Do not count the total number of passengers on the bus. Seven people is the recommended default.’
“2. One passenger, curious, counted the people and claimed that ‘there was one extra.’ According to the surveillance footage, the passenger suddenly screamed and charged toward the doors, then vanished completely.
“…
“In conclusion, dungeon rules are beginning to invade reality. More and more strange phenomena are appearing in the real world. All players are urged to remain vigilant.
“If you encounter an anomaly, do not attempt to resolve it alone. These phenomena are extremely dangerous. Contact GAIA immediately at XXX-XXXXX.”
So it was true!
How had he never encountered one before?
Then again, the publicly available global data amounted to only 12,476 cases over half a year. The world was enormous; it was perfectly normal that he had not run into one.
Bai Ming continued reading the replies, gathering whatever relevant information he could.
“Everyone already knew that. But the original poster left out one crucial detail: anomalies in the real world can be resolved, and doing so rewards you with experience and game coins. The greater the difficulty, the greater the reward. You left that out because you were afraid someone would steal your experience and game coins, didn’t you? And what’s with the phone number? Bah! You’re just trying to steal the kill!”
“Exactly. If you discover an anomaly, contact the authorities? GAIA are a bunch of idiots.”
“There are benefits to having more anomalies. Dungeons have time limits, so you can’t farm them every day. The more anomalies there are, the easier it is to farm experience.”
“The guy above is insane.”
“Agreed.”
“If you ask me, anomalies in the real world should be dealt with as soon as possible. Otherwise, they may endanger the families of all you players.”
“You think you can solve them just because you want to? Do you have any idea how easy that is? People could die.”
“You’re all overlooking one thing: anomalies that appear in reality are far less immortal. They can be resolved permanently.”
“The person above is deliberately leaving something out too. Anomalies in reality are stronger than those in dungeons. Even the weakest is more terrifying than an E-minus dungeon.”
“Heh. So much for ‘resolving them permanently.’ Unless you find the true body, you’re just beating empty air.”
“Reality is too dangerous, and there are Twilight missions as well. I don’t want to stay in this world anymore.”
It was true. With reality so dangerous, he had to improve his strength as quickly as possible.
A sense of urgency surged through Bai Ming. His gaze drifted indecisively between Agility and Perception.
His Agility stood at 13, one point higher than his Perception. Stacking that attribute offered a greater numerical advantage, but the applicability of heightened neural reflexes was relatively limited.
Perception was only 12, yet it granted the mysterious ability to foresee danger and had a much broader range of applications.
The problem was that excessively high Perception brought side effects, making one more likely to glimpse the horrors lurking in the darkness.
Both had their advantages and disadvantages. The choice was truly difficult.
“Forget it. I’ll save it for now.”
In the end, Bai Ming still could not make up his mind.
What if he encountered a skill he desperately wanted a few days later, only to find himself unable to learn it because his attributes were insufficient? That would be a regret beyond measure.
Besides, he was still relatively safe for the moment.
And an increase of merely one or two points was still far from bringing about a true transformation in strength.
With that thought, Bai Ming drifted back to sleep.
He had fought his way through [School Days] for an entire day and was still somewhat exhausted. The ribs needed time to marinate anyway, so he might as well take a nap.
In a daze, Bai Ming seemed to become that little boy standing on tiptoe once more, leaning against his mother’s stovetop and gazing eagerly at the garlic-fried ribs sizzling in the iron wok.
Snow-white minced garlic danced in the hot oil. The rich fragrance of garlic mingled with the aroma of meat and burrowed straight into his nose, making him swallow repeatedly.
Sizzle!
The explosive sound of oil suddenly pierced through the dream into reality. Bai Ming wrinkled his nose as the fragrance of scallions mingled with soy sauce grew increasingly vivid.
His eyes flew open.
In the kitchen, a slender figure wearing a checkered apron was wielding a spatula.
Mother?
A kitchen spirit?
No!
An intruder!
No!
An anomaly!
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