Chapter 2: This Fat Man Has Something Special

After a long while, once his mood had finally calmed, Zhang Ze was already back in his rented apartment.

With a dull thud, Zhang Ze tossed the black satchel onto the bed.

Hearing the commotion, Liu the Fatty appeared at the door. His figure, weighing over two hundred pounds, always seemed to inspire concern.

“Xiao Ze, where have you been?” he asked, all the while shoveling handfuls of potato chips into his mouth with a steady crunch.

Zhang Ze couldn't help but find his friend’s appearance amusing. Liu Neng, like himself, had grown up in the same orphanage, and was his only real family. To be fair, the guy had a pale, almost delicate complexion; even though he was well over two hundred pounds and looked quite greasy, he did have the makings of a pretty boy.

Lost in these idle thoughts, Zhang Ze slowly rose from the bed.

“Liu Neng… really, that name of yours…” he remarked.

Hearing Zhang Ze bring this up yet again, the Fatty shrugged, as if long accustomed to it. The two were about the same age, though Liu Neng was a year older. They’d known each other for seventeen years now.

“Enough. If you’re all right, I have goods to go sell,” Fatty shrugged again and turned to leave.

Behind him, Zhang Ze chuckled quietly to himself.

“What’s so funny?”

“Your so-called study materials—do you really think anyone would never get tired of them?”

Catching the scorn in Zhang Ze’s voice, Fatty’s face took on a hint of indignation.

“You don’t know anything. I update them every single day!”

“And?”

“Want a few gigabytes to study for yourself? Considering our years of friendship, I’ll only charge you half price.”

But Zhang Ze’s only reply was a well-aimed kick. Fatty’s rear was so padded with flesh that it perfectly absorbed the blow, and he barely felt a thing.

“Get lost.”

With that, Zhang Ze slammed the door shut.

…

After about ten minutes, all was quiet outside. His mind unsettled, Zhang Ze climbed off the bed. Who could be carefree, knowing they had only three days left to live? Especially someone like Zhang Ze…

He had crossed into this world, yet had not truly experienced the life of a martial artist, nor achieved his grand ambition of wealth and success. The system panel appeared before his eyes once more.

Zhang Ze’s gaze inevitably landed on the last skill—Shield.

He recalled how, a month ago, in order to use this Shield skill, he had forced his way into the Provincial Detective Bureau—an act of reckless heroism. The image of a certain figure surfaced again in his mind.

Director Lin Feng of the Anqing Provincial Detective Bureau—a seventh-rank expert who often appeared on provincial television. Among the tens of millions of ordinary people in Anqing, not a single one failed to recognize his name.

But to think on it, only a fool like Zhang Ze would dare charge into the Detective Bureau and openly challenge such a figure.

After all, a seventh-rank master! The only reason Lin Feng had let him go was because Zhang Ze’s cell strength had already surpassed the human limit.

Since that day, Zhang Ze had been deeply dejected. Even a seventh-rank martial grandmaster possessed no so-called “innate skill.” Zhang Ze could only curse the heavens for casting him as the protagonist but giving him the wrong golden finger.

It was as if a beautiful woman lay bare before him, yet he was utterly impotent…

…

“Capital time: 3:00 p.m.”

Moments later, the old mobile phone’s speaking clock roused him.

“Damn this lousy phone!” he cursed, about to smash it to the ground—only to be stopped by the arrival of a text message.

“One, ten, hundred… a hundred thousand…”

“One hundred sixty thousand, exactly…”

Muttering under his breath, he guessed this was a transfer from Fatty Third Aunt. At the same time, a number on his system panel changed.

Wealth: 198,000

He had come to understand this damned system quite well over the past two hundred days. His extreme cellular strength came from the system’s wealth value.

At a thought, a pale red pill appeared in his hand and the wealth value dropped to 168,000.

He had already sold several of these First Grade Body Strengthening Pills on the black market. They fetched sixty thousand apiece, but the system only charged thirty thousand to create one.

When he’d discovered this, Zhang Ze had been delighted for days. As far as pills went, the profit margin was more than enough to satisfy a small-timer like him.

But soon he realized he couldn’t break through. With his current cell strength, attempting to unlock a second skill would cause his body to explode.

Thinking of the absurdity of his system’s design, Zhang Ze couldn’t help but curse again.

It was truly exasperating. In this world where martial prowess was everything, what use was a Shield skill? It was the ultimate chicken-rib—too insignificant to matter, too wasteful to discard.

…

Frustrated, Zhang Ze no longer wished to remain in his rented room. He wandered toward the backstreets of the old city.

As evening drew nearer, the oppressive heat of the small town faded, and people began to reappear on every street corner.

But Zhang Ze paid them no mind.

…

For a long time, his thoughts were consumed by the problem of his system.

Three days! If he wanted to survive in this world, there were only two paths before him:

Either find a martial artist with an innate skill, and use his Shield skill to block and quickly master this otherwise useless ability—

Or solve the problem of his inability to break through.

After all, if he could push his cellular strength past 120S and become a first-rank martial artist, his body might be able to withstand the impact of a second skill.

But both options seemed like dead ends.

Everyone knew that becoming a martial artist meant entering another level of society. But to Zhang Ze, martial artists—those who continuously broke through the limits of their own bodies—had never heard of innate skills.

Moreover, he had already tried to break through more than ten times. But without mastering his current skill, the system simply refused to let him advance.

The last failed attempt had left him bedridden for two months.

“Ah—”

Zhang Ze let out a long, helpless sigh, drawing his thoughts back to his surroundings.

Soon, his gaze settled on a corpulent figure not far away.

Liu Neng had noticed him as well, and, arms around two girls, made his way over.

The two-hundred-pound bulk made it look less like Liu the Fatty was embracing the girls, and more like two kind-hearted younger sisters were helping a disabled older brother.

Seeing the pair flanking him, Zhang Ze couldn’t help but complain inwardly.

“Are you all blind?”

“Am I not much better looking than that fatso?”

“Why is he always flanked by girls while I don’t even have a girlfriend?”

“Xiao Ze, you finally decided to come out?” Liu Neng greeted him, as Zhang Ze silently cursed.

“Come, let me introduce you—this is my good brother, Xiao Ze. Call him Brother Ze.”

“Brother Ze~” The two girls’ voices were soft and sweet, their gazes coy.

Ever since Zhang Ze’s sudden change in temperament, Liu Neng had been worried. Seeing him willing to leave the apartment at last, he was delighted.

But Zhang Ze, still simmering with resentment, was suddenly stunned.

A system prompt flashed before his eyes, leaving him frozen for a long moment.

“Detection of a charm-type skill activation. Would you like to block it?”