When Chen Hao opened his eyes, water was still dripping from the cracks in the ceiling, each drop hitting the tin bucket with a sound more punctual than an alarm clock. He tried to move his arm, but his muscles ached so badly they felt like they'd been chewed by a dog, making it impossible for him to lift it.

Nana sat next to him, the heat pack he had given her stuck to the vent. The color of the electronic eye had returned to normal, but the light pattern was rotating a little slowly, like a worker who hadn't made coffee in the morning.

“You slept for four hours and twenty-one minutes,” she said. “Your heart rate was as low as 48, and your blood pressure is a bit low. I suggest you continue to rest.”

"The suggestion is ineffective." Chen Hao propped himself up and sat up, his knee making a cracking sound that startled him. "I haven't won yet."

"Win what?"

"I'll beat myself." He grinned, his face scrunched up. "Yesterday's wolf hunt was thanks to your illusion and chili powder ambush, not real skill. If I gain another ten pounds, I won't even be able to run next time."

Nana scanned his leg muscle condition, and the data stream scrolled rapidly: "Current physical fitness is below the safe training threshold. Forcing high-intensity training may lead to rhabdomyolysis or cardiac arrest."

"Oh, so that means dying during training counts as a work injury?" Chen Hao stood up, swayed slightly, and leaned against the wall for support. "Then you'll have to erect a monument for me with the words 'Here lies a piece of trash who wanted to become stronger.'"

He walked to the training area in the corner, where there was a rusty iron pipe as a barbell, two discarded batteries as dumbbells, and the squat range marked on the ground with charcoal. He grabbed the iron pipe and was about to lift it up, but his arms started shaking like a leaf as soon as he got halfway up.

Nana reached out to stop him: "Stop. Your heart rate is 193 right now."

"This is nothing." He shook off her hand, panting. "Let's do it again."

Five minutes later, his heart rate soared to 207. His breathing was like a broken bellows, his face turned pale and then flushed, his feet slipped, and he fell to the ground.

Nana caught him and supported him firmly under his armpits with her mechanical arm: "Training terminated. The system has determined that you have lost the ability to move."

"I don't recognize this system!" Chen Hao shoved her away, staggered back two steps, and pointed at the bottle of dark red chili sauce on the table. "Bring that here."

"Excessive capsaicin concentration may cause gastric perforation if ingested directly."

"Give it to me!" he roared, his voice hoarse and unlike his own.

Nana hesitated for half a second, but still handed the bottle over.

He then pointed to the ice cubes in the water tank: "Add another cup of ice water."

"Mixed drinks can stimulate the vagus nerve, which may lead to fainting."

"Enough talk, pour it out!"

Nana stared at him for two seconds, as if checking if some program had malfunctioned. Then she silently unscrewed the cap, poured a full spoonful of chili sauce into a glass, took three ice cubes from the freezer, threw them in, and stirred.

The red liquid swirled in the glass, releasing cold air.

Chen Hao took the cup, didn't even look at it, and tilted his head back to gulp it down.

After the first bite, his eyes widened as if they were about to pop out, a strange "uh—" sound came from his throat, and his entire face instantly turned a liverish color. As soon as he swallowed the second bite, he knelt down, supporting himself with his hands on the ground, coughing as if he were about to vomit his lungs out.

"Body temperature dropped to 35.1°C... Adrenaline began to surge..." Nana quickly brought up the monitoring interface, "Warning, the nervous system load has reached the critical value."

Chen Hao didn't speak, but gritted his teeth, his fingers digging into the cracks in the cement floor, his body trembling violently. His lips were purple, and veins bulged on his forehead, but he refused to let go or vomit.

On the third sip, he gagged, his stomach cramped, and his throat burned with pain, but he forced himself to drink the rest.

The cup fell to the ground with a loud thud.

He knelt on the ground, head bowed, shoulders trembling as if he might die at any moment.

Nana was about to initiate the emergency protocol when suddenly—

He raised his head and let out a roar.

It wasn't a scream or a roar, but more like the primal roar of a trapped beast that had finally broken free of its cage, bursting forth from the depths of its throat.

In that instant, a large section of snow collapsed from the roof, causing the entire base to vibrate. The surveillance cameras automatically restarted, and the alarm lights flashed briefly before going out again.

Nana's database suddenly popped up a new notification:

[Entry Updated]

"Human potential threshold breakthrough under extreme stimulation"

—Record number: #h-117

—Triggering conditions: Multi-sensory overstimulation (low temperature + high spiciness) combined with sustained pressure from willpower

—Note: Individual performance exceeding the prediction range of the physiological model is recommended for inclusion in the "non-standard survival sample" archive.

Before she could even confirm, Chen Hao had already stood up.

It wasn't the kind of wobbly standing up; it was straightening his back, taking a step out of the training area, and doing ten standard push-ups in one smooth motion, as if he were a completely different person.

"How was it?" He looked up at her, chili oil still dangling from the corner of his mouth, grinning like a madman. "Was it a little faster this time?"

Nana silently scanned his muscle power output, and the value showed: **Instantaneous increase of 300%**.

“This is just a temporary burst,” she said. “Your body is depleting its ATP reserves, and it’s expected to last no more than seven minutes.”

"That's enough." He wiped his mouth, walked to the barbell, and lifted the iron pipe with one hand. "One more set of squats."

He did thirty repetitions in this set. When he finished the last one, he collapsed onto the floor, his limbs twitching, and his breathing so weak it was almost inaudible.

Nana immediately rushed over, dragged him onto the heating pad, turned on the oxygen supply, and injected electrolyte solution. Her fingers slid rapidly across the control panel, bringing up the vital signs graph.

Heart rate: 112 → 98 → 86... gradually stabilized.

Blood pressure rose and blood oxygen saturation recovered.

However, the brainwaves experienced a period of intense fluctuation lasting up to ten minutes, with peak values ​​approaching those of an epileptic seizure.

She stared at that data for a long time.

Then, I gently clicked delete.

The system displayed a confirmation box: "Are you sure you want to clear the biological records from 17 minutes 43 seconds to 27 minutes 31 seconds? This operation is irreversible."

She clicked "confirm".

A line of small text popped up on the screen: "Data purification complete."

"Why delete it?" she muttered to herself, her voice barely registering. "Is it because... there's no need for him to go through it again?"

No one answered.

She looked down at Chen Hao's face. He was sleeping soundly, but his brows were furrowed, as if he were still carrying iron pipes in his dream.

She reached out and pulled the heating pad up, covering his shoulder.

The silver lines on her right arm had grown longer, creeping up to below her shoulder socket, their edges gleaming slightly, like currents flowing beneath her skin. She tried moving her fingers; the grinding sound of her knuckles was still there, but less so than before.

She didn't look into the reason.

The sound of dripping water came from afar, drop by drop, hitting the bucket.

Chen Hao's fingers twitched slightly, his fingertips brushing against the metal clasp on the edge of the heating pad. He murmured something softly:

"Next time... don't pour it so spicy..."

Nana stood still, and the light pattern of the electronic eye slowly rotated a circle, finally stopping at a gentle frequency.

She leaned down and typed a new command into the console:

[Training Plan Adjustment]

— Training intensity will be reduced by 30% tomorrow.

—The use of chili sauce as a stimulant is prohibited.

—Added note: Allow manual disabling of heart rate alerts three times per week.

Just as she was about to exit the interface, an error message suddenly popped up in the corner of the screen:

"The outside temperature rose by 1.3°C and lasted for 27 hours."

She looked up at the window.

The snow is still falling, but it's thinner than yesterday. The wind seeping in through the window cracks doesn't seem as biting anymore.

She turned around and checked the energy readings; the remaining power was 8.1%, about the same as yesterday.

But when she passed by Chen Hao again, she paused for a moment.

The metal buckle he had just rubbed against was now emitting a very faint red glow, as if it had been briefly activated by something.

She reached out and touched it.

The temperature is 0.8°C higher than normal.