"Yes! Perfect! I'm not crazy. I'm not crazy..."
Gu He's racing heartbeat swept away the exhaustion that had accumulated over the past few days.
It wasn't dissociative identity disorder. The Console really was a transmigrator's blessing. It could dig through his implicit memory while harboring endless Earth network data, just waiting to be excavated and restored.
Ninety-nine percent. His mental state was remarkably healthy, entirely worthy of the title Mentor Xiaohe. The missing one percent had just been from scaring himself.
He was the primary consciousness of this body, its sole identity. "Yes! Good! I'm not crazy!"
Lorna ate a slice of watermelon, watching the ecstatic Gu He. Was there really any need to be this happy? It wasn't like he'd actually gone mad.
"Go mad and it's all over. You might even be happier that way," she said with self-deprecating irony.
[Personality Integrity: 98%]
"Lorna, Lorna..." Seeing the change, Gu He asked hurriedly, "Why did the integrity suddenly drop by one percent?"
"Haven't you ever heard of laughing yourself to death? You got so worked up that a slight fluctuation in your personality is completely normal."
Gu He figured that made sense. He quickly calmed down; he couldn't afford to lose any more.
To him, losing one percent of his personality integrity felt like losing his entire wallet.
"What was it at again?" Lorna asked curiously.
"Ninety-nine percent just now. Now it's ninety-eight."
"That high?" Lorna was immediately taken aback, looking Gu He over once more. "Ninety-nine percent? Can anyone even reach ninety-nine percent?"
"Why?" Gu He asked, puzzled. "Is that high?"
"Of course it is," Lorna said, annoyed. "Who doesn't have worries and troubles, especially in this dump? Reaching ninety-five percent is already top-tier. How on earth did you get ninety-nine? Hey, these glasses probably aren't very accurate anyway. They're just junkman gear..."
Right now, however, Gu He thought they were extremely accurate. Mentor Xiaohe was simply a man who lived with absolute clarity. What was wrong with ninety-nine percent?
If Sakai hadn't messed with him, one hundred percent would have been no problem at all.
Still, since he wasn't crazy, just who was "Contact 1"?
"Is the Hero Profession System also a transcendent category?"
Gu He asked. Contact 1 seemed to be this type of transcendent and was desperate for the corresponding professional "program data."
"Yes." Lorna's voice carried a hint of complicated disgust. "Does this city really have heroes? Maybe."
"Miss Ayane said she wants to train me to be a transcendent host. What are those kinds of transcendents used for?"
Gu He couldn't help his nervousness. The new information he had obtained tonight still hadn't resolved this life-or-death question.
"Why don't you ask them? I'm not your teacher. Do you think I book hosts just to give them lectures? So annoying."
Lorna's teaching patience had run out. She drained the last glass of liquor on the coffee table in one go, preparing to leave.
"I'm heading out. That's it for tonight. I'll come back once you've transcended. I should warn you, though..."
She shrugged and added, "Our Blood Blades only manage some gang activities at most—just dogs biting dogs. The fat cats won't bother with it because this is precisely the balance of order they want to maintain. But Kumiko and Old Fan play a much bigger game."
Gu He widened his eyes slightly. It really was illegal activity, and furthermore...
"A Yakuza gang?" he asked.
"Not quite." Lorna stood up and grabbed her crossbody bag. "Right now, they're brokers.
"Brokers cultivate and recruit transcendents, then lease them out to organizations and teams that need them. Kumiko and Old Fan don't bother with petty scraps; the ones who come to them looking for people are all truly troublesome bastards.
"To be precise, they're bastards who specifically go around opposing the fat cats at the New World Bank."
Lorna smiled meaningfully. "Based on what I know about them, and the little bit of news I've caught wind of, I bet the Fishpond's new gig has something to do with the Santou Corporation's push for the shantytown acquisition and redevelopment plan."
The more Gu He listened, the more goosebumps broke out on his skin.
What kind of monopolistic status did Santou Corporation and the New World Bank hold in Liuguang City...
"You," Lorna said, stopping by the door of the small private booth to look back over her shoulder, "will be their new top hitman. The old one died last year."
"I thought I was a host..."
"A transcendent host isn't just a host," Lorna said, walking straight out.
She wanted to check on a place, to return to the place called the Bloodline District, the place she called home, just to take a look...
Gu He sat dazedly on the sofa, still wearing the goggles, mulling over every single word Lorna had just said.
He had thought getting roped into a shady joint as a host was bad enough, but a top hitman? What was that supposed to mean?
Before he could even catch his breath, he heard the chubby vampire's shout: "Gu He, get out here and work!"
Gu He had no choice but to leave the small booth and return to the main hall. He watched Fan Debao bustling around the bar counter, preparing side dishes and pouring drinks for a few customers. He just looked like an ordinary, bad-tempered, middle-aged fat man...
A foodmaker transcendent? A broker? Playing a major game?
He thought back to a few days ago, before he had witnessed Miss Ayane's other side, when he still thought she was a movie director.
He glanced sideways at the insulting symbols drawn over the Santou television's logo.
"What?" Fan Debao noticed Gu He with his goggles pulled up onto his forehead and immediately figured it out. "You know already?"
"I know a little bit..." Gu He leaned against the edge of the bar and lowered his voice into a faux-affectionate grumble. "Why didn't you tell me earlier?"
"Didn't I?" Fan Debao continued slicing fish on the cutting board with a sashimi knife. "I told you on your very first night at the Fishpond. You just didn't catch on. I'm not a fan of nagging, and I wanted to test your comprehension."
"My bad, my bad." Gu He figured Old Fan had actually just wanted to watch him crash and burn.
With all the opportunities to hint at it over the past few days, this old man hadn't uttered a single syllable.
Ever since testing his talent, this old fogey had been disgusted with him. Miss Ayane was the one who had wanted to recruit him all along.
Right now, though, this played perfectly into his hands. Keeping his voice down so the customers wouldn't hear, he said, "Look here, Old Fan, I'm really not a particularly capable person. Like you said, I'm barely fourth gear—completely mediocre. I'm someone even Miss Sakai can bully, who gets dizzy at the sight of blood and collapses at the sight of a sofa. I can't handle anything big.
"How about we forget it? Pick another candidate for a host, someone better. As for me..."
Gu He spread his hands. "I had an uncle named Ben who used to tell me: with less power comes less responsibility. I'm only fit to be your errand boy. Why don't I learn how to be a foodmaker from you... The title sounds like it's just in charge of cooking and logistics. It suits me perfectly."
Fan Debao shot him a cold glare. Wielding his sashimi knife, he chopped the fish to pieces, sending a rapid clatter across the cutting board.
"I didn't say foodmakers lack power," Gu He added. "I just mean I'm only cut out for odd jobs and idle chatter."
"What you just said fits my sentiments entirely," Fan Debao replied. "From day one, I never thought much of you."
Gu He nodded repeatedly. "You're right. You've got great judgment. Excellent."
"However, Kumiko thinks very highly of you." Fan Debao let out a disgruntled grunt. "You're her recruit, and she calls the shots. Telling me all this is useless. Go tell her yourself; she's right next door at Licai."
Gu He blinked. The fates of his predecessors—Futo Ichiro and the bat—flashed instantly before his eyes...
He could practically hear Miss Ayane's cold, merciless voice:
Scumbag, you've disappointed me so much. Didn't you promise to give it your all and become the Night King? You and your Uncle Ben can both go to hell. Someone, chop off their dicks and swap them!
"Still not going?" Fan Debao urged.
Gu He looked hesitantly toward the metal door.
Man, that is definitely not a place you want to go...
"I knew you didn't have the guts. If you're not going, get to work," Fan Debao said, annoyed.
"Is Miss Sakai going to come mess with me again tonight?" Gu He let out a long, helpless sigh.
She hadn't shown up yet tonight, whereas previously she would stay the whole night.
"She won't." Mentioning it still made Fan Debao sound rather reluctant. "Get a good night's sleep tonight. Rest up and get ready to officially become a transcendent in a couple of days. You'll have plenty of work to tire you out then."
The price for the gift of fate? Gu He couldn't shake off his bad premonition.
Yet since lying flat wasn't an option, he had to figure out a way to deal with it.
Information. He needed more information, and he couldn't just get it from Old Fan and Miss Ayane. After all... the Fishpond might turn out to be a shady den at any minute, perfectly willing to lease him out or sell him off...
Right! Gu He suddenly thought of something.
"Contact 1."
That fellow was a Hero System transcendent, seemed to know quite a lot, and was even investigating the Santou Corporation.
He needed to meet with her again and figure out a way to ask what on earth this "Doll-Series Transcendent" business was all about.