Chapter One Hundred Forty-Six: The Choice

“He truly is a ruthless man; I had this feeling from the very beginning.” Fan Bei looked at Lang Sheng—broad-shouldered and fierce-faced—being forced into the role of a desperate rebel among the impoverished masses, and couldn’t help but sigh inwardly.

The Blue Light forbade the use of force to oppress others—a well-intentioned rule meant to prevent countless sins. Yet, humanity’s ability to exploit loopholes is unmatched, especially among the wicked.

Lang Sheng’s solution was born out of necessity; only by pushing himself to the brink could he break through the Blue Light’s constraints.

This shows that the Blue Light itself is a set of rules.

The compassionate creator who established these rules likely never imagined such an outcome.

Many rules are conceived with good intentions, but when poorly executed, even the best regulations become distorted.

What use is a perfect rule if the enforcers are ill-chosen? It is doomed to become worthless.

Much like Wang Anshi’s reforms, which started with noble aims but ultimately went awry.

Fan Bei pondered how he might design such rules himself.

Indeed, one must prioritize the process. Simply setting a few rules and expecting the world to operate smoothly is wishful thinking.

Without a proper process, there can be no desired result.

This is the essence of modern management theory. Leaders who proclaim “I only care about results” may appear imposing, but they are destined to fail or produce distorted outcomes.

Only through rigorous process control can one achieve the intended results.

Ultimately, it is because the world is ever-changing.

With this realization, Fan Bei smiled wryly, admitting to himself he was a fool. He was still a great distance from actually designing such rules, and thinking about it now was premature.

Lang Sheng had already set the stage. Three of the four major systems were arranged, and one remained…

Fan Bei frowned as he heard loud shouting from the living room outside.

“Little Green Sister, I really can’t eat any more…”

“It’s okay, eat up, finish everything, leave nothing behind. Today I worked so hard making braised pork ribs, and that jerk said he was already full! When I asked, I found out he’d eaten food made by another woman! It’s infuriating—so fickle… Men are all scoundrels!”

“From now on, if it’s my cooking, even if I have to feed it to the dogs every day, I won’t give him a single bite! It’s despicable. We grew up together, yet he’s already fallen for another woman so quickly!”

“Uh, thanks a lot, sister. I’ll finish everything every day.”

Da Bai’s happy voice echoed through Fan Bei’s home.

This wouldn’t do. As the system’s owner, how could he indulge so much in food and romance, sinking into decadence?

Fan Bei shook his head. Since returning, Xiao Bai had lost all motivation to supervise, living idly day after day. The system had degraded to a collar, temporarily neglecting Da Bai, who lived as if every day were a festival.

Hmm, come to think of it, I seem to live worse than a dog—no woman brings me meals at all…

The disparity in treatment between people was stark.

Observing all this, Fan Bei understood exactly what Lin Xiaolu’s words meant. It seemed that the “Jue Jue” relationship was progressing rapidly.

Could it be that Lin Zhongshi actually preferred strong, proactive types? Considering his own history, this was quite plausible.

Putting aside his gossip, Fan Bei considered how to manage Da Bai.

It had reached a bottleneck in cultivation and needed a breakthrough in its physical form to advance further.

In reality, whether it was himself or Lin Zhongqing—those at the forefront of cultivation—they were still mortal flesh. Their strength lay in their spirit and the ability to manipulate spiritual essence, not in physical might.

The nature of cells and flesh remained unchanged, as did neural transmission methods. Humans were humans and could never compete with machines.

Human nerves transmit signals at up to 100 meters per second, with a reaction time limit of 0.1 seconds.

But for computers, 0.1 seconds sufficed for hundreds of millions, even infinite calculations.

For light, 0.1 seconds meant traveling 30,000 kilometers.

This was why those two old men could not land a single move against the steward system.

Their cultivation methods were excellent, and their training long, but their reaction speeds couldn’t keep up.

Within 0.1 seconds, the steward system had already made countless judgments and adjustments. It was not made of flesh but spiritual essence, and its top speed was not bound by the speed of light—only by its own response and decision-making.

Facing this, Fan Bei instinctively thought of two cultivation directions: one was systematization—evolving oneself into system rules, fully integrating with the sacred artifact “Father of Systems.”

The other was spiritual essence transformation—becoming like the steward system in form.

The former was too difficult, with no clear starting point. The latter had some feasibility, gradually replacing the physical body with spiritual essence.

Yet humans are still human; he had to consider emotional and psychological changes during such evolution. Even losing an arm could drastically alter a person’s temperament, let alone replacing the entire body.

It seemed best to let hosts conduct experiments first, striving to break through bottlenecks. Then, he could learn from their experiences and improve himself before attempting it.

Of course, these experiments would draw upon others’ advanced experience, not start from scratch.

He decided to let Lang Sheng be the first test subject. Since Lang Sheng was so harsh on himself, he would surely be willing to experiment with his body. Moreover, he had a powerful ally, offering hope for reference.

Fan Bei sent this objective to the Good Man system.

Just after sending the message, a system log appeared in the Sword system.

“Currently, two hosts meet the preset criteria: one is rich, handsome, and foolish; the other is strong, wealthy, and foolish.”

Fan Bei immediately understood. The system intelligence had learned from the last experience with Hou Pangzi, deliberately selecting a backup candidate to avoid being fooled again by an apparent fool. If deceived, it could switch hosts immediately.

Once bitten, twice shy.

He opened the Sword system page to take a look.

…

This was a shop, quaint and ancient-looking, though the lighting and furniture suggested a modern setting.

“Gentlemen warriors, both of you desire this sword, but the shop only has one. We dare not raise the price and must sell to only one. Yet we cannot offend either of you, so please decide between yourselves who will buy it,” an elderly man in a suit said, bowing respectfully to the two men before him.

One man drooled slightly, eyes fixed tightly on the golden sword displayed on the counter.

Though simple-minded, his instincts told him the sword was valuable to him—a skill honed in his powerful family.

He relied not on intellect but intuition, frequently choosing the winning side. Coupled with his good background, he held high status in his martial family, at least fit to be a mascot.

This was the “rich, handsome, foolish” described by the Sword system.

The other man was a towering figure, eight feet tall with an eight-foot waist, a colossal presence. He wore a vacant expression, also staring at the sword.

He sensed the sword’s strength—it could break the world’s limits, his warrior intuition told him so.

Though dull-witted, his mind was pure and single-minded in martial arts, belonging to the upper echelons of strength, though his background was inferior to the other’s.

This was the “strong, wealthy, foolish.”

Fan Bei couldn’t help but admire the system intelligence for selecting these two unusual candidates from millions.

He himself lacked the patience and mental capacity to do so.

This was the power of artificial intelligence—tasks impossible for humans were routine for it.

Now the question was, which one to choose?