Chapter Three: The Dog System

Ah, what a slap in the face—far too swift. I’d hoped to properly arrange things for the first system, yet in the end, there was only one choice.

Fan Bei thought helplessly to himself. He had never intended to go out searching for prodigies.

That notion had faded years ago.

Back then, there were only four people left. Three of them, upon hearing the radio broadcast and learning that the world outside had improved, that civilization was being rebuilt and survivors were being recruited en masse, decided they wanted to leave the shelter. Yet, they died less than a hundred meters from the shelter entrance.

Fan Bei had seen it all through the crack of the silver door: the moment they stepped outside, countless white specters lurking in the valley swarmed upon them.

The shelter was built in a mountain valley—chosen for its spring water, seclusion, solid mountains, and stable geology. Ironically, it had become a nest for evil spirits.

Despite everything, Fan Bei still felt gratitude toward those three. After all, they hadn’t used him or Da Bai as bait to test the outside.

If only they had held out a little longer, he might now have more options, and they might have received systems themselves—ascending to new heights in life…

Fan Bei sighed, bowing to reality. For now, he must create a system for a dog…

Though he now had Jin Kaoshan for support, he couldn’t forget that Jin Kaoshan was still just a mound of earth, with only 10,000 points of mental energy.

It cost a point just to deal with two cucumber vines—what of those countless white specters?

Sitting properly at his desk, Fan Bei summoned the illusory White Book with his mind and began earnestly crafting the dog system.

After his first successful attempt, he’d found he no longer needed the tedious steps—he could open it at will, to any page he wished.

“Da Bai is only a dog. Though he’s gained some intelligence, I can’t ignore the fact he’s still a bit of a fool—I need to be mindful of that…”

“First, the system type must be martial arts. Only martial arts have skill trees like Dog Fist and Cat Fist—straightforward and fitting for him. Western wizardry is all about brains, and Da Bai is immune to that.”

“System name: ‘Heavenly Hound.’ Majestic, powerful, and high-class. No matter how weak he is now, I’ll boast first and worry later.”

“The system’s alignment, of course, must be righteous. I can’t create an evil dog and bring trouble on myself.”

“As for the profit split, let’s set it at 5%… No, too low. Make it 30%—he needs to grow quickly.”

“Next, I should use this system option: ‘Host Management.’ It’s perfect for foolish hosts like Da Bai.”

Fan Bei had just selected this option when a line of text appeared above:

“‘Father of Systems’ lacks sufficient knowledge and level. To activate, requires knowledge of ‘quantum computing,’ ‘AI consciousness,’ ‘cybernetic control’… ‘Father of Systems’ must reach Mythic rank.”

Fan Bei frowned. Such high requirements—clearly, “Host Management,” though inconspicuous, was a formidable function.

He immediately realized other options must have similar restrictions.

Sure enough, when he tried to select options like System Space, System Shop, Prize Wheel, and Technique Exchange, each came with its own limits—requiring certain knowledge or levels to unlock.

In the end, he could only use three basic options at his current level: “Mission Guidance,” “Novice Gift Pack,” and “Level Up & Attribute Allocation.”

Even these displayed prompts upon selection:

“Mission Guidance: Lacking AI knowledge for automatic mission generation. ‘Father of Systems’ must manually design mission chains. Template as follows:
Mission Name:
Mission Content:
Reward and Punishment:
Next Mission:”

With that clarified, Fan Bei continued.

“As for the initial knowledge and skills, I’ll grant him all the cultural knowledge I’ve accumulated over the years, martial arts basics, and the simplest meditation technique. Hmm, I can directly infuse them with my mind—not bad.”

“Lastly, a novice gift pack. He’s accompanied me so many years—he deserves a little bonus.”

Fan Bei filled out the system template with his mind, selecting from various options and filling every blank.

After more than two hours, a freshly made system was finally complete.

He checked it dozens of times before confirming nothing was missing.

At last, a line of text appeared at the end of the template:

“System ‘Heavenly Hound’—current creation will consume 200,000 points of mental energy.”

Fan Bei scanned the template and felt a wave of frustration.

At least he had the most basic meditation technique to offer the first system, which should increase future mental energy returns.

But now, he had to remove some options and sub-options, so Da Bai could no longer receive the meditation technique for free—he’d have to train for it himself. That would reduce the energy cost.

But relying on that fool of a dog—when would he ever succeed in learning it?

Yet, this wasn’t the time to worry about that. First, he had to finish making the system.

“The novice gift pack—forget it. Self-reliance is key; it creates a sense of immersion. If rewards come too easily, hosts won’t cherish them, and that’s not good.”

He axed the gift pack, and the required energy dropped by 50,000 points, to 150,000.

He immediately realized that giving out free benefits came at a steep price.

So, he stripped out all other free perks: the incomplete basic meditation, basic running, and any other foundational skills he could—leaving only the bare essentials.

In the end, he had a skeletal system with just the necessary common sense he’d assigned. The system finally showed an acceptable requirement:

“System ‘Heavenly Hound’—current creation will consume 9,000 points of mental energy.”

So expensive—this was the price of choosing a foolish host. If he’d picked a genius, he wouldn’t need to input so much knowledge.

Fan Bei shook his head. Beginnings are always hard. Still, it was better than nothing—if he didn’t even have a dog, wouldn’t he be begging atop a mountain of gold?

But there was one alternative: turn to the crops in the agricultural district… There’s always a bigger fool.

He quickly regained his calm and chose “Begin Creation Now.”

He felt a brief dizziness. The illusory White Book spun rapidly before condensing into a swirling white vortex.

After an unknown interval, a phantom white sheet appeared and floated into Fan Bei’s hand.

He found the sheet was solid now, no longer glowing, but completely blank.

He wasn’t troubled by the empty page—he knew this was the vessel for the dog system. But how to fuse it with Da Bai?

In other words, having made the dog system, how could he now give it to that silly dog?

Ah—he’d turn it into a bone and feed it to Da Bai.

No sooner had he thought it than the paper transformed into a steaming, sauce-browned pig shank, with scraps of meat dangling at each end.

“Perfect—just as I hoped,” Fan Bei nodded in satisfaction.

He checked his remaining mental energy—only 1,000 points left. Money is so much easier to spend than save.

After his rebirth, it had taken fifteen years to save up 10,000 points; now he’d nearly spent it all in just a few hours.

“Da Bai, Da Bai, if you dare waste my investment, see how I’ll deal with you in the future,” Fan Bei muttered, pushing open the door.

At that moment, Da Bai, who’d been playing with a ball, sniffed the air and eagerly trotted over, eyes fastened on the fragrant bone.

Fan Bei straightened his face. “Da Bai, you helped me save the cucumbers just now. Even if it didn’t amount to much, your effort was good—so I’m rewarding you with this bone.”

Da Bai nodded repeatedly, as if he understood every word.

This dog—truly uncanny.

Fan Bei thought as he placed the bone in the living room dog bowl. Da Bai lunged at it.

It had been ages since Da Bai had tasted meat. Even the plants could become corrupted; animals were out of the question. The shelter hadn’t raised livestock in years—only some canned meat remained in storage.

Fan Bei only opened a can on rare occasions, sharing it with Da Bai as a ritual.

Da Bai resolved to savor this bone, to lick it slowly, again and again, making it last a full month.

He closed his eyes, opened his mouth wide, and let his tongue fall upon the bone.

The instant his tongue touched the meat, the bone vanished.

Huh? Where did it go?

Da Bai hurriedly opened his eyes, searching the dog bowl.

As for the barrage of system prompts ringing in his mind, he ignored them all.

Meanwhile, Fan Bei opened the illusory White Book to check the situation.

He’d long realized that other creatures couldn’t see the book—at most, they just thought he was daydreaming.

“Number of systems created: 1.”

“Active hosts: 1.”

“Mental energy: 1,000 points.”

“Current mental energy income: 3.2 points per day.”

“Current mental energy expenditure: 100 points per day.”

Good—finally off the ground.

Fan Bei was very satisfied and continued to flip through—there should be new content now.

Sure enough, page two displayed fresh information:

“System: Heavenly Hound.”

“User: Labrador Da Bai.”

“Time since activation: 3 minutes.”

“System current status: Fusing.”

“System income: 0.2 points per day.”

“System expenditure: 100 points per day. System reserves insufficient; will draw from ‘Father of Systems’ reserves.”

So the system’s issuance did incur costs—leeching off the parent, indeed!

That daily income of 3 points could only come from himself. Having traveled through time and merged souls, his mental energy output was naturally higher than ordinary people. Over fifteen years, he’d accumulated over 10,000 points—quite reasonable.

Fan Bei glared sternly at Da Bai upon reaching the last line.

That foolish creature was still searching everywhere for the vanished bone. Once the system finished fusing, things would not be so easy for him…

Hmph.