Chapter 109: OS (10)
109 – OS (10)
The prop master’s voice trembled after his scream: “This… this…”
Lin Xun had long been aware of this person’s tendency to overreact. He glanced over and saw the man’s figure faintly trembling, the seaweed strip prop in his hand shaking slightly.
Before the prop master lay a mountain of tentacles. Their grotesque and twisted forms appeared even more complex as they tangled together. Lin Xun felt slightly nauseous after just one glance.
Lin Xun: “What’s wrong?”
Prop master: “Ah!”
Lin Xun stepped forward.
“You suddenly speaking scared me to death,” the prop master said.
Lin Xun: “What were you just saying?”
“This, just this,” the prop master pointed at the tangled mass of tentacles scattered on the floor. “My eyes were playing tricks on me—I saw them moving, but now they’re still again.”
“Also…” his voice trailed off as he half-crouched on the floor, picking up a thinner tentacle as if talking to himself. “This material is too slippery, and with everything piled up here being so heavy, the slightest slip is terrifying. Why does Director Gao always play with these things? That late-night hostel last time really got to me. I’m not usually timid, but I had nightmares for several nights straight. Next time there’s a Director Gao film, I’m not coming. Working on props for period dramas would be much better.”
Lin Xun smiled slightly. The prop master had ultimately had his related memories erased by Butterfly Madam using illusion techniques, no longer remembering those things that violated the materialist worldview. But while memories could be altered, emotions were deeply etched within—he remained a pitiful soul who had once been thoroughly frightened.
As they spoke, the entire pile of tentacles shifted again.
The prop master reached out and caught a human head ball that had rolled down from the top, stacking it to the side. “It really is slippery.”
As he said this, he even stroked the surface of a tentacle.
In that split second, Lin Xun unzipped his backpack and violently swung it upward with a backhand motion!
“What’s wrong?” The prop master turned around, and upon doing so, fell backward onto the floor. “Ah!!”
Lin Xun used his keyboard to deflect a tentacle that had suddenly descended from the ceiling. He sighed, transforming the keys into a sword. Activating his Light Body Technique, he leaped up as a flash of sword light swept through, clearing the mist in the entire area and increasing visibility by about one meter. He scanned his surroundings, finding only silence. Only the prop master trembled as he picked up the severed tentacle that had fallen from the ceiling. “This… where did it come from?”
“It came alive,” Lin Xun said.
Simultaneously, the system prompt sounded.
“Side quest triggered: ‘Lost Coast.’ Quest description: Where you cannot see, everything is happening.”
“Quest objective: Escape the water mist.”
“Quest reward: Chaos Treasure Box x1, Spiritual Power 10.”
“Hint: Contains hidden quest. Please explore.”
That this place was unusual had long been within his expectations, which was why he had been keeping his Heavenly Eye technique active to observe his surroundings. Just moments ago, a line of code had flashed rapidly—he instinctively blocked and struck down a tentacle that had inexplicably fallen from the ceiling. He hadn’t expected the lurking danger here to come not from Director Gao Liao, but from these props casually piled in the corner.
That time in the underground haunted house—it seemed to have been props too.
Prop master: “Don’t deliberately scare me.”
Lin Xun didn’t waste words on him. Grabbing the back of his collar, he yanked the man backward! The floor was slippery, and the prop master slid two meters away, landing flat on his back with a solid thud. “You!” he exclaimed.
Lin Xun didn’t waste time arguing. In the blink of an eye, three fleshy-pink, hideous tentacles shot out from the pile of tentacles!
He swiftly manipulated the code, and three sword Qi erupted from him, shooting in three different directions. They collided head-on with the tentacles, producing three dull, consecutive thuds.
The texture of the tentacles was nothing like the prop master’s description—soft, slippery, and jelly-like. Instead, they were soft on the outside but hard on the inside, something Lin Xun deduced from the sound. These three sword Qi strikes were at his usual level, yet they only managed to sever half of each tentacle. It was clear these tentacles were far beyond the cultivation level of an ordinary Golden Core stage.
Lin Xun called out, “Qi Yun!”
“Huh?” Qi Yun’s confused voice echoed from a distance.
Lin Xun took a few steps back, holding his keyboard as he cautiously scanned the surroundings. “There’s something here. Come help.”
“Do you have any conscience?” Qi Yun retorted. “I can barely walk without panting now. Don’t you know that?”
Lin Xun insisted, “Figure something out!”
As he spoke, another thick tentacle emerged from another corner of the room, silently slithering toward his back like an African python, coiling and winding as if trying to ensnare him.
But who was Lin Xun? He possessed the Heavenly Eye technique. A second before the tentacle launched its attack, he spun around. A highly compressed sword light, sharp as an indestructible blade, pierced the air with a shrill screech and collided with the tentacle! After a dull thud, three-quarters of the tentacle was gouged out, splattering gel-like material everywhere. Lin Xun tapped his keyboard again, delivering another strike, and the tentacle fell limply to the ground.
—Right in front of the prop master.
Lying flat on his back, the prop master scrambled backward on all fours, his face pale and his words incoherent. “You… I… This…”
Lin Xun was no stranger to people being scared out of their wits. He paid it no mind, but Qi Yun’s voice came through again.
“Holy shit,” Qi Yun’s slow footsteps drew closer. “What are you doing?”
“Nothing much,” Lin Xun replied, cautiously backing away while remaining alert. “There are demons. The props have come to life.”
“Those tentacles?”
“Yeah,” Lin Xun said. “Your kind. Be careful.”
“Fuck off, I’m a fish, not an octopus.”
“You both come from the water anyway.”
“Cut it out. I’m a freshwater fish.”
Amidst the mist, their backs bumped together.
Lin Xun warned, “Watch out!”
The sound of something cutting through the air echoed, accompanied by a foul, fishy stench. Ten tentacles, each from a different direction and uniquely grotesque, swept toward them from unseen places!
Lin Xun tapped his keyboard rapidly, and a storm of sword Qi materialized in the air, shooting toward the tentacles. The sword Qi varied in thickness and size, each strike tailored to the length and girth of the tentacles, as if possessing a mind of its own as it assaulted the ten appendages.
“Holy shit,” Qi Yun blurted out an ill-timed remark. “Why are you still using my sword Qi? Did you pay me for it?”
“I’ll pay you when we get out,” Lin Xun replied. “Thanks.”
“No,” Qi Yun said, “these sword Qi of yours are all mine, but how come they’re all different?”
Lin Xun: “I adjusted them.”
“Impossible.” Qi Yun: “Even a prodigy like me can only release forty-nine identical sword Qi at once, not make them each change individually. How can you multitask like that? I refuse to accept it.”
Lin Xun wanted to turn around and smack Qi Yun’s head with his keyboard. In such a critical situation, this guy still had the mood to argue about Cultivation and sword techniques.
His “multitasking” wasn’t some exclusive secret technique, nor was it because he had higher intelligence.
—It was because he had loaded an operating system, a proper operating system.
The five major functions of an operating system: process and processor management, job management, storage management, device management, and file management. It was precisely because of these functions that a machine could operate in an orderly manner, handling the various complex tasks assigned by users. Processes, or computations for different tasks, were constantly occurring on a computer. How could a proper computer only maintain the operation of a single process?
Under the coordination of the operating system, multitasking in parallel execution was hardly difficult.
But facing Qi Yun, he couldn’t explain it that way.
So he said, “Because I’ve reached the Nascent Soul stage.”
“Ah???” Qi Yun let out an inhuman shriek, starting a duet with the prop master curled up in the corner.
“Holy shit!” Qi Yun suddenly exclaimed after his scream.
This competitive sword cultivator seemed to have broken down. Lin Xun planned to reason with him properly after they got out of danger—sword cultivators should focus on practicing the sword, not pester their senior brother every day for meat, to play games, and to cherish the quiet moments of cultivating the mind in the bathtub.
Just as he was thinking this, his heart suddenly tightened.
He felt a chill on his back, which had been warm just moments ago. He and Qi Yun had been standing back-to-back for easier defense.
Not only was it cold, but it also felt… empty.
He abruptly turned his head. Behind him was empty, only white mist remained—there was no sign of Qi Yun.
“Qi Yun?” Lin Xun shouted.
A faint rustling sound seemed to come from the distance.
Lin Xun: “Where are you?”
“I’m… here.” Qi Yun’s weak voice came from the right, as if he were on the verge of suffocation.
“Something wrapped around my feet and dragged me away. You bastard… hurry over! I really can’t fight right now.”
Lin Xun rushed over and saw a mass of tentacles writhing. Qi Yun lay on the ground, struggling weakly. The tentacle mass had already swallowed his calves and was continuing upward, while another tentacle tightly wrapped around Qi Yun’s right wrist. Lin Xun transformed his keyboard into a sword and slashed at that tentacle. The tentacle snapped, freeing Qi Yun’s hands. After flailing helplessly in the air a few times, he grabbed Lin Xun’s hand. Lin Xun pulled him outward while Qi Yun struggled toward him, kicking his legs to break free from the tentacles firmly wrapped around him.
“Don’t pull!” His voice suddenly turned desperate.
Lin Xun paused his movements.
“Fuck, there are suction cups. The skin on my legs is stuck.” Qi Yun gasped heavily. “It hurts. Don’t pull. First, deal with the tentacles.”
Lin Xun held onto him with one hand, unable to pull him outward or let him be dragged back by the tentacles. Gripping his gray sword, he unleashed countless streaks of sword light, piercing toward the mass of tentacles.
“Ah!!!” Qi Yun let out another scream, his cries alternating with the distant prop master’s shrieks: “Don’t fight! Every time you strike, they move, and every time they move, I hurt!”
Caught in a dilemma, Lin Xun scanned his surroundings, searching for any tools.
There were none.
The entire room was empty, devoid of anything else, let alone a sword a swordsman could use—nothing but tentacles and mist.
Mist…
Mist!
He suddenly looked up!
The fog machine!
There was one right beside him on the left. He lunged toward it, fumbled for a moment, and cranked the power to its maximum.
At the same time, his sword Qi surged, repelling a circle of tentacles trying to ensnare him.
“You’re just letting go of me like that?!” One tentacle had already coiled around Qi Yun’s neck, while the others had swallowed his lower half. His long hair was tugged by smaller tentacles, leaving only his upper body exposed—a pitiful and helpless sight.
“Hang in there,” Lin Xun focused on dealing with the tentacles trying to pull him in as well, occasionally glancing at the prop master crawling across the floor in the distance. Though this person’s courage seemed even smaller than the last time they met, he hadn’t fainted and could still understand Lin Xun’s words. It seemed the experience in the underground haunted house had subtly toughened his mental fortitude.
In the blink of an eye, Lin Xun dashed toward the center of the wall and flipped all the fog machine switches!
A wave of buzzing erupted from one side of the room, and the white mist thickened dramatically—less like fog and more like rainfall. Lin Xun’s face was drenched in the mist, the air before him almost dripping with moisture, making him feel as if he were swimming in water. He shouted to Qi Yun, who was on the verge of being submerged, “Is this concentration enough? Can you transform?”
Qi Yun: “Huh?”
“You’re a fish!” Lin Xun exclaimed. “You’re a water ghost!”
As soon as the words left his mouth, dark green scales began to sprout from Qi Yun’s ears, slowly spreading across his cheeks. The fingers he had clenched around a tentacle, locked in a struggle, also grew longer and more slender. His nails took on a dark green hue, sharp and elongated, digging deep into the tentacle.
“Damn,” Qi Yun said, “you’re a genius.”