Chapter 70: I Am Imprisoned

Now that Ren Zhong had his own place, many things that used to be inconvenient became simple. After finishing his work and returning home, he logged onto the internet early via his wristwatch, opened the stock market, and searched for "YBZY," the initial code in pinyin.

The full company name popped up.

The stock he had chosen today, the market's darling, was Yibin Paper.

It was a second-tier subsidiary under the Bass Group, producing a relatively niche range of specialty products—various kinds of paper, from writing and printing paper to household paper.

Yibin Paper operated a fully automated, unmanned production line; its technology was mature, its workforce small—this large enterprise had only 120 technical workers.

For such a company, there was little room left for technological innovation, the market size was fixed, output capacity essentially constant, and the stock price as flat as a stagnant pond.

Ten years on the market, its price curve resembled a dead man's ECG.

Shareholders hardly expected to profit from price rises; they waited for dividends.

Yet today, it was the market's king of the day.

The situation was somewhat absurd.

Yibin Paper had some news circulating, but Ren Zhong found it irrelevant.

A few days earlier, the company had officially announced plans to expand its workforce from 120 to 180.

It was a trivial matter.

For a company of this scale, adding 60 employees made little difference to production costs.

Initially, the news stirred no waves, barely earning a mention in the daily finance headlines.

Until this morning, when a well-known retail investor surnamed Huang published an op-ed, publicly criticizing the company.

He argued that a mature company should expand only by adding more unmanned production lines.

Hiring 60 more people was pointless.

He insisted it was a sign of failed management.

The 60 new permanent positions, he claimed, were likely created to accommodate cronies, a ticking bomb waiting to explode.

When it did, ordinary shareholders who relied on dividends would rebel, and the stock price would plummet.

He declared, "Yibin Paper's current price is 3.48. When it drops to 2.2, I will buy in at the bottom. Watch and see."

His words unleashed a storm.

Ren Zhong remembered clearly what happened over the next six and a half hours.

Huang became a reverse beacon of sorts.

Once his message circulated, Yibin Paper's stock soared from 3.48, up 40.8% to 4.89, and never fell back, holding steady and making small, steady moves—standing out as the day's dazzling star among otherwise quiet small-cap stocks.

Huang was instantly immortalized, known as the "Dark Lamp"—a legendary contrarian.

Ren Zhong didn't ask for much. He aimed to buy at precisely 3.41, the day's short-term low, for a total cost of 341.09.

Then, at 3:30 in the afternoon, he would cash out at 4.89 per share, netting 487.9.

Afterward, he'd head straight to the flea market, collect the Thunderbolt vehicle, and prepare for a new phase of resurrection and acceleration.

Having bought his shares in Yibin Paper, Ren Zhong didn't waste any more time in the daily headline video section.

The most valuable content for him there, "Sid Meier's Armored Insights, Chapter One," he had already memorized thoroughly.

He had only skimmed the other three chapters, but they weren't urgent, so he set them aside.

As for other free videos, their only purpose was to kill time—and slowly kill his life and dreams. Watching more was a crime.

So, Ren Zhong turned instead to basic tutorials in the vocational training system.

Though dull, these were concise and somewhat useful, helping him refine his worldview.

He focused on the explanations of career advancement.

Take Mecha Warrior, for example.

The hard data for brain-machine synchronization rate was as follows:

Level one: 10%
Level two: 20% (after power exceeds 10kW, the rate begins to climb past 20%, and so on)
Level three: 30%
Level four: 40%
Level five: 50%
...

Biological electricity carrying capacity, divided as:

Level one: 10–50 kW
Level two: 50–300 kW
Level three: 300–1000 kW
Level four: 1000–10,000 kW
Level five: 10,000–50,000 kW—a massive leap in numbers.
...

The increases in brain response index and physical fitness index matched those of carrying capacity.

Of course, at later stages, these indices didn’t simply scale up linearly with higher numbers.

The indices were weighted values calculated from a massive data model.

But in practical terms, every stage brought noticeable changes for a Mecha Warrior.

At level one, aside from steadily increasing power for operating the armor, the synchronization delay time shortened as synchronization improved—from an initial standard of 35 milliseconds, gradually shrinking by 10% overall, down to about 31.5 milliseconds.

If using an amplifier, delay stretched to just over three times longer.

Ren Zhong felt that delay as 100 milliseconds with the amplifier, while his actual delay was 33.33 milliseconds.

Once all four parameters crossed into level two, aside from increased power and shorter delay, his physical abilities would undergo genuine transformation—muscle and bone strength, explosive power, stamina, nerve response, all would improve significantly.

Additionally, his auditory nerves and the chips in the armor’s exoskeleton would resonate, granting him nearly zero-delay neural hearing.

At level three, neural visual resonance expanded.

At level four, hearing, vision, smell, taste, and touch—the five senses—would be completed.

At level five, besides another bodily transformation, his brain and nervous system would fully resonate with the level-five exoskeleton, the "Super Armor," triggering a sixth sense and achieving true human-machine integration.

Anyone who has ridden a motorcycle or electric bike with a helmet knows—even with the visor open and ears exposed, vision and hearing seem normal, but there’s always a feeling of separation from the environment.

Sounds of the same volume seem quieter.

One’s reaction to sudden dangers on the road is slightly slower than without a helmet.

Riders have to adapt over time to overcome this alienation.

Mecha Warriors, fully armored, are, in a sense, like those sealed in human-shaped coffins in Egyptian pyramids—claustrophobia and a stronger sense of alienation ensue.

From level one to five, a Mecha Warrior constantly overcomes discomfort, achieving unity with the machine.

Compared to earlier upgrades, whether in pure numbers or real combat potential, the gap between level four and five is a nearly impassable chasm.

The greater the leap, the harder the breakthrough, and the greater the reward afterwards—an absolute truth.

No wonder there were no level-five combat professionals in the town.

No wonder a level-five professional could be Spark Town’s lifeline—that’s why.

Having studied these materials carefully, Ren Zhong sighed and spoke to himself.

"Normally, the annual census wouldn’t require a level-five professional to step in, but Spark Town’s situation is different this time."

"Madafu’s indulgence toward the professional team is explained. Earlier, he had no idea Spark Resources were up to something; he saw the team grown from within the town as half his own people."

"The most likely to break through to level five are indeed Lin Wang and those level-four experts so close to the threshold. Channeling the town’s resources to the team, like blood flowing through a pyramid’s veins, is the optimal choice for success."

"Sacrificing a minority to save the majority is entirely reasonable. Old Ma may be compassionate, but he also has a cold side. Pity he was betrayed by Spark Resources. No wonder he didn’t directly ask Spark Resources—there was no point."

"But since this is all so secret, how did Lin Wang end up telling Zheng Tian and the others? Lin Wang only wanted me dead, not Zheng Tian. When Zheng Tian and the others returned alive, the news would surely leak."

"Lin Wang had no such worries. So, the process to abolish this has already run its course and can’t be undone."

"Now Madafu is struggling to the end but has already placed hope in me and Sun Miao, hoping we’ll take some of the wastelanders with us."

"This is Old Ma’s only option."

After analyzing all this, Ren Zhong felt another layer of gloom settle over his heart, but he wasn’t discouraged.

Knowing difficulties in advance is always better than being clueless.

Only by knowing difficulties can one target them and overcome them.

As a former researcher, what he hated was never difficulty, but ignorance.

That morning, Ren Zhong had slept barely over four hours.

By twelve-thirty, he was soaking in the training grounds.

He finished work at three, then slipped into the lounge to rest and nap, waiting for the legendary investor Huang to close the day.

Time’s up!

Place the sell order!

Funds returned, account balance now 622.63.

Ren Zhong didn’t even have time to exchange pleasantries with Ju Qingmeng, dragging his somewhat tired body from the training grounds, hopping onto his motorcycle, and heading straight for the flea market.

He’d already casually extracted the identities of Zheng Tian’s acquaintances in the market during their idle chats.

Following the clues, at 3:43, Ren Zhong found the seller.

...

A middle-aged, portly man with a handlebar mustache, whose shifty look betrayed his craftiness, stood before the Thunderbolt vehicle, gesticulating as he spoke to Ren Zhong.

“Brother, as you can see, this Thunderbolt multi-purpose vehicle is nearly new. Its market price is at least nine hundred, but I’m asking only six hundred fifty before tax, practically gifting you two hundred fifty!”

Ren Zhong replied, “Man, that’s too expensive. Cut the price.”

The fat merchant protested, “Brother! I’m giving you two hundred fifty for free! It’s not just a big loss, it’s like my carotid artery’s been cut!”

Ren Zhong said, “Six hundred fifty is really too much.”

He squinted, quietly watching the performance.

Go ahead, keep acting.

Your bottom price is six hundred, I can see right through your tricks, no matter what color your underwear is, so stop pretending.

The fat merchant persisted, “I’m not exaggerating—this thing sells itself. Put it here, the town’s half-professional teams will scramble for it. Buy it or not, your call.”

Ren Zhong was actually a bit anxious.

Because Bai Feng was injured, Zheng Tian’s team hadn’t gone out hunting today.

He couldn’t keep an eye on everyone all day.

At the moment, Zheng Tian hadn’t noticed, which was a relief.

But she could show up any time now.

If she did, they were all on the same side, and intercepting the deal face-to-face would be tough.

Worse still, the Thunderbolt vehicle seats five, and if the thick-skinned Zheng Tian saw it, she’d surely try to negotiate for a ride—which would be hard to refuse.

Then the plan would collapse.

Instead of hindering her, he’d be giving her a free boost.

His strategy would unravel completely.

Ren Zhong took a deep breath and made a final probe, “From what I know, you’ve had this vehicle here for three days. If it sold so easily, wouldn’t someone have snatched it already? Why is it still here? Cut the talk—one price, five hundred eighty, not a cent more. You nod, I transfer the money right now. Deal?”

Under Ren Zhong’s relentless gaze, the fat, cunning merchant—veteran of many deals—finally caved.

He’d been caught at his weak point.

It was true: a supposedly hot item had sat for three days, attracting only penniless buyers who, upon hearing the price, bolted faster than rabbits.

It was like a haunted deal!

He was even questioning his own reality.

Had Spark Town’s economy declined so badly?

Not even a half-professional team could spare six hundred!

Just how poor were these people?

“All right, all right. Let’s sign the contract.”

...

Ding!

Transfer successful, goods and money exchanged.

Ren Zhong pushed his motorcycle onto the Thunderbolt’s cargo bed and roared off.

Though he had made a sale, the fat merchant looked as forlorn as a jilted bride, staring into the cold wind at the departing vehicle.

Ren Zhong, as he boarded, failed to keep his expression in check for a moment.

He caught a glimpse of the merchant’s sly, triumphant smile.

His heart bled.

He murmured, “I actually lost the haggling. Completely beaten. Met a real expert—I’m trapped!”