Ignoring the bizarre “stress period” label above and the empty columns for stigmata and miracle engravings, below is the simple and easy-to-understand skill panel.

General knowledge, representing common sense and education, is still embarrassingly at LV3. He hasn’t even graduated high school, and already some of that knowledge has been returned to the PE teacher.

But the art skill, representing his cello proficiency, is something he’s a little proud of at LV6—already at a professional level. To go any higher would require ninety-nine percent sweat and that crucial one percent of talent.

Meanwhile, the inexplicable skill “Premonition of Death” is still grayed out.

It’s starting to feel more and more like some weird game.

Is it going to make me spend money?

Henry Parker felt a vague sense of unease.

After using it last night, Henry Parker finally gained a preliminary understanding of its classification. According to the Book of Fate, only abilities that are skillfully mastered and can be used at will are recognized as skills.

And the limit that ordinary people can reach in their lifetime through study and constant practice is LV10—the tenth level.

The first few levels of most skills are relatively easy, but just like the stat design of some greedy game company, the higher you go, even a tiny increase requires hundreds of times more effort.

And for some people, level ten is the end, but for others, it might just be the beginning.

Henry Parker understood this well.

It’s like two test papers with the same perfect score.

Sometimes, level doesn’t mean much; it’s just a convenient way for the Book of Fate to help him measure himself.

Feeling the weight of the journey ahead, Henry Parker continued reading, only to discover that overnight, he had gained several new skills.

[Combat: Basic Military Boxing LV4]

[Reconnaissance LV4]

And a rather silly one: [Illegal Organization Management LV3]

And then...

“What the hell?”

Crow exclaimed, “How is your copywriting skill already at LV6?”

Henry Parker couldn’t help but roll his eyes. “Duh, try attending hundreds of meetings in a row and then writing hundreds of meeting minutes and reflection essays!”

As for the other skills like military boxing, Henry Parker didn’t have much hands-on experience—he could only pick up the basics by getting beaten up and watching from the sidelines.

But when it came to writing those hundreds of records and essays, that’s when he truly poured out his blood, sweat, and tears, every word filled with hardship.

His biggest gain that night wasn’t learning how to fight or keep watch for the police... but how to pad out word count in his drafts!

Now, he had even surpassed his teachers, able to seamlessly fill an entire Pacific Ocean into his updates, and could precisely break it into 3,000-character sections to avoid writing too much and getting shortchanged.

“You’d better remember this section well. From now on, write your records in this format.”

He patted the Book of Fate in his hand, crossed his legs proudly, and sighed, “If I went into novel writing, I’d be rich.”

“Novelists never end well,” Crow whispered ominously in his ear. “Many of them start going bald before middle age, like that Hu-something, that Guo-something, and that wandering Jun-something...”

Henry Parker shuddered.

Better not mess with that, forget it.

“But speaking of which...”

Henry Parker flipped to the appendix at the back of the book. Those files seemed to have lost all value—most of the writing had faded, leaving only a monotonous table.

“Why do these people’s memories appear in the book?”

“Oh, you don’t know?”

Crow looked surprised, but answered calmly, “The Book of Fate is now bound to you, so it only records things related to you.

The reason it includes these fragments, I suppose, is that they all died because of you?”

“...”

Henry Parker was stunned.

“Ah, actually, the total is about seventy people.”

Crow said lightly, “Unfortunately, only four or five of them had enough source activity to leave behind the most vivid memories in their minds. There are fewer and fewer people with awakening potential these days. You should be grateful to them.”

“...”

Henry Parker took a sharp breath, feeling his whole body break out in goosebumps. He instinctively leaned back, wanting to put more distance between himself, Crow, and the book.

But he quickly realized that even if he threw the book and Crow into the ocean trench, it probably wouldn’t help.

He finally understood why the military suddenly arrested him for interrogation.

It was probably because those people from yesterday... were all dead?

All dead.

Only he was left.

Even just thinking about it made him shiver, as if that blood-soaked, murderous ape was already standing behind him, grinning menacingly.

After a long, long time, he finally calmed down and forced a dry, bitter smile. “Does it really have to be this dramatic?”

“That’s right, it really is this dramatic, Henry Parker. This world is just like that—not as safe as you imagine. This sky, this land, this country, this city... actually hide far more things you’ve never seen.”