Chapter 60: A New Ability
What Xu Zhi took out were high-level attribute cores. She had always felt that her need for cores—or rather, for ability-user energy—was different from other ability-users.
The benefits she got from basic attributes were simply too small. She suspected it was because the concentration of [Moth] in basic cores was too low.
So today, she decided to try using these high-level attribute cores instead.
After a moment of thought, Xu Zhi downed three high-level attribute cores in one gulp. Within less than ten seconds, her vision began to spin, as though she had just downed a shot of strong liquor. She collapsed headfirst onto the sofa and lost consciousness.
After a brief moment of blankness, she once again returned to that forest.
The sky was still blindingly white. Twisted, shadowy trees surrounded her on all sides, and the path beneath her feet stretched into an unclear distance.
But this time, Xu Zhi felt a bit more strength in her body.
Her thoughts seemed to be distorted—childlike and sluggish—and she could only rely on instinct. Instinct told her she needed to keep walking forward.
But the path was narrow and chaotic. At every stretch, a fork would appear. How was she supposed to know which one was correct?
As that thought surfaced, a glowing moth fluttered into view before her.
Its wings gently flapped, scattering points of light. Every time Xu Zhi tried to move closer, drawn by its beauty, the moth would flap harder and fly ahead again.
It was as if it were teasing her—or guiding her forward.
Chasing the moth, Xu Zhi passed one fork after another. She ignored the “temptations” of the other paths underfoot and focused solely on the glowing moth.
Eventually, after one more fork, she caught it.
Just as a smile of delight formed on her face, the moth in her hands dissolved into shimmering light and melted into her body.
The twisted trees in the forest seemed to grow more dangerous. Shadows crept toward her back. The white sky seared her eyes, blinding her to the approaching threats.
But the moment the last light particle entered her body, the ground beneath her suddenly vanished—like she’d missed a stair step—and she felt herself fall.
She jolted awake.
A chill ran down her back, sweat sliding along her cheek. In such a short dream, she had unconsciously broken out into a cold sweat.
It was as if her body sensed a danger even she couldn’t perceive, sending her warnings she ignored.
Xu Zhi sat in a daze on the sofa for nearly a minute before regaining her senses.
She felt like she’d dreamed of something significant, but when she tried to recall it, all that remained was a stark white sky—everything else was blurry.
Then, a line of narration emerged from the game console on the table.
[Congratulations.]
[You’ve passed the initial trial and discovered a special path.]
[Departing from the original path and walking a new one is never easy. But you’ve already begun your transformation. A feat worthy of praise. Many more challenges await you ahead.]
[This path is narrow and hidden. Every step is riddled with danger. Reaching the end won’t be easy.]
[Remember: Resist temptation. Stay rational. Don’t become lost.]
Xu Zhi, baffled: “What did I even do?”
Why didn’t she know?
It seemed like she had done something extraordinary, but she had no sense of it at all.
[Focus and observe yourself. You’ll notice you’re no longer the same.]
The narrator’s words reminded her—she hadn’t yet checked her own changes after swallowing the three high-level cores.
Xu Zhi took a deep breath, cleared her cluttered thoughts, and focused inward.
And as soon as she did, she noticed the differences.
First, her body felt much lighter. She had the sense that if she wanted to, she could leap four or five meters high. But this lightness wasn’t weakness—her strength had clearly increased, and everything felt completely in sync.
Second, her internal energy had nearly tripled. But that wasn’t the most important part—the key change was: she now had a new ability.
Xu Zhi extended a finger and willed the energy to form. As it surged, a gray moth suddenly materialized at her fingertip.
This was her new ability-user ability: [Moth]
The name had just surfaced in her mind naturally. Along with it came a sense of what it did—not a formal description like a system panel, but more of an intuitive understanding. In her own words:
Any being that saw this moth would be drawn to it, their thoughts muddled, the wild side of their personality amplified. Their actions would become less rational. They would also develop a certain fascination with Xu Zhi—be more inclined to trust her, and more willing to follow her instructions.
But this effect was proportional. The more energy Xu Zhi invested in creating the moth, the stronger its allure and influence would be. Ordinary people would be almost defenseless against it, while other ability-users could resist to a certain degree. Upon seeing the moth, they would undergo a silent mental resistance check. If they failed, they would fall under its influence.
Success or failure depended on the difference between the target’s spirit and Xu Zhi’s, as well as how much energy she poured into creating the moth.
Once successful, the moth’s influence would imprint on the target’s soul like a brand, subtly affecting their thoughts and judgments from that moment on—deeper with time—until Xu Zhi actively severed the connection.
Xu Zhi withdrew her finger, and the moth vanished into light.
She couldn’t help but feel this ability… kind of resembled the [Cup] attribute in some ways.
Or maybe she was just overthinking it?
Still, no matter how she looked at it, this didn’t feel like the ability of a protagonist…
“Am I destined to be a villain?”
…Wouldn’t be the worst thing, actually.
In any case, having another ability-user ability was a good thing. And Xu Zhi liked this one.
Once she’d finished analyzing her new power, the narrator reappeared.
[You should go look in the mirror.]
“Hm?” Xu Zhi tilted her head, confused. But she had planned to shower anyway—she was drenched in sweat—so checking the mirror made sense.
As soon as she looked, though, she understood what the narrator meant.
Her eyes had turned a faint, light gray—glinting in the mirror with a certain inhuman coldness.
