Henry Parker is a regular at the hospital. A renowned doctor once gave him a piece of advice: unless he awakens his spiritual root and undergoes a complete transformation, if he participates in intense physical activity again, he’ll most likely spend the rest of his life in a wheelchair.

Chapter 2 That Man Is an Ordinary Person

The news says that ten percent of humans awaken their spiritual roots. At first glance, that seems like a high percentage, but conversely, it means that ninety percent—the vast majority—cannot awaken spiritual roots to cultivate.

Nine out of ten people are muggles, and Henry Parker is one of them.

There’s a widely accepted way for ordinary people to become cultivators: under extreme conditions, with external stimulation, there’s a certain probability of awakening.

Henry Parker took this path, struggling for nine years, repeatedly skirting the edge of death.

No one succeeds easily, and Henry Parker was anything but casual about it. Not only did he fail to awaken, but he was also left with a body full of injuries and illnesses.

Stepping out of the elevator, the fat man looked up at a virtual screen in front of him.

A string of numbers was displayed: 100.

The blood demon that just died was the 100th monster the fat man had eliminated.

Every time he destroyed a monster, the number on the virtual screen would change.

Once upon a time, the fat man thought he had obtained the legendary system and was about to soar to new heights.

After years of exploration, he realized that so-called “system” was nothing more than a memo.

Other than recording his monster-slaying stats, it was nothing at all.

If that thing counts as a system, it’s definitely the most useless system in history.

Standing in the night breeze, the fat man gave the system screen the finger.

He was long past complaining—one middle finger was enough to show his true feelings.

As he gained more experience, the fat man found another way to awaken spiritual roots.

In Tang Country, there’s a kind of Enlightenment Spirit Fruit, hailed as a national treasure of the new era. Only a few dozen of these fruits are produced each year. After absorbing spiritual energy, they mutate, and when consumed by humans, they cause genetic mutations and awaken spiritual roots.

It’s said that the success rate of awakening with the Enlightenment Spirit Fruit exceeds 80%, making it the exclusive choice of the wealthy.

Such a miraculous fruit naturally comes at a high price: one hundred million Tang yuan.

Ordinary people at the bottom earn only a few thousand yuan a month—working their whole lives, they could never afford a fruit of this caliber.

In his early years, Henry Parker was a lone wolf. Medical bills were too expensive, and he racked up a mountain of debt. Later, he became a consultant—missions counted as work injuries, and there were bonuses and subsidies. He finally managed to pay off his debts.

He opened the online banking app on his phone and checked his balance: 135,269 yuan.

The balance in his account was still a long way from the Enlightenment Spirit Fruit.

Even so, the fat man persisted.

He set himself a small goal: earn one hundred million first.

Walking outside the residential complex, a night breeze blew by.

The spring wind in March carried a hint of chill.

The old injury in the fat man’s leg flared up, making him stagger as he walked.

He wanted to steady himself against a wall with one hand, but there was no wall nearby, so he had to lean on a lamppost to catch his breath.

The story turned into an accident. Halfway through, he suddenly passed out. If it hadn’t been for that fully automated young lady who called for emergency help, there would have been nothing after that.

Urban hunters of this era have seen too many bloody scenes and too many terrifying monsters, bearing psychological scars—some go mad, some are crippled, some die.

Those who survive often need psychological counseling.

Monster hunters generally don’t seek out therapists; they find their own outlets: alcohol, the opposite sex, drugs.

The first two are part of Henry Parker’s daily life.

Now, with a body as fragile as glass, he can’t even manage his daily routine.

This body on the verge of collapse seems like it could fall apart at any moment.

Tonight, the fat man was in luck.

He was about to go over and offer a helping hand when a voice called out from behind:

“Consultant Parker, please wait a moment.”

The voluptuous female agent Grace Bennett caught up, her expression complicated—part gratitude, part shame.

There’s a saying online: even the weakest cultivator can easily crush the strongest muggle.

But reality proves that what you read online isn’t always reliable.

Grace Bennett is living proof. As a cultivator, she was saved by a muggle.

Under Henry Parker’s gaze, Grace Bennett grew nervous. “Consultant Parker, thank you for saving me. That blood demon was so vicious—it killed four people, and even dared to call the police, trying to drain our whole team dry…”

Henry Parker said, “You’re a bit mistaken about yourself. Blood demons love pure boys and girls the most. That blood demon might not have killed your whole team—it was just interested in a pure maiden like you.”

Grace Bennett blushed furiously. “Anyway, thank you.”

Henry Parker replied calmly, “I got paid. This is just my job. You don’t need to thank me.”

“Consultant Parker, you… actually, you don’t have to act so tough. I saw it just now—you can barely walk. I’ve read your medical report. The fact that you can even stand is a miracle.”

As Grace Bennett spoke, her face grew even redder. “Monsters like to come out at night. I’d worry if you went back alone. Let me drive you home.”

“Then I won’t stand on ceremony.” The fat man said it and meant it, climbing into the car.

Grace Bennett sat in the driver’s seat, touched her neck, and shuddered with lingering fear. “It’s only today that I finally understand what it means to survive a disaster. If that bite had landed on my neck, I don’t even dare imagine what would have happened to me.”