Chapter 82

Chapter 82: The Whistle

Mentos's bad news was a serious blow.

Sifting through ten thousand years of memories for useful information was like searching for a needle in a haystack—a fool's errand.

But if Lan wanted to complete the enhancement surgeries, he had no choice but to tread this path.

And considering Mentos's estimation that Lan's ability to absorb these memories depended on his mental stability and brain capacity, it was clear that this process would require significant time and rest.

Even if Lan spent the entire lifespan of a witcher—several hundred years—on this "memory exploration," the progress he could make would still be negligible.

After receiving the good news, followed immediately by the bad news, Lan first nodded to Arya to reassure the frightened girl.

He fell silent for a moment, his mind racing as he processed the information. Then, he spoke to Mentos again in his mind.

"First, let me ask you a question, Mentos."

"Go ahead, sir."

"Does the Federation Education Law dictate what children must learn and what they cannot learn?"

Mentos's tone faltered, as if it hadn't expected Lan to ask such a question. But deep within its core systems, the Education Law was firmly ingrained. So, it answered smoothly.

"The Federation Education Law specifies a list of mandatory subjects and a list of prohibited knowledge. The specific catalog includes..."

A flood of information cascaded across Lan's retina, like a waterfall of data. It was far too much for the human eye to process.

Lan pinched the bridge of his nose, sighing in frustration.

"Let me simplify the question, Mentos. Are [Combat] and [Biochemical Knowledge] considered permissible subjects? Can academic achievements in these fields serve as the basis for my academic grading, thereby increasing my biological AI's permissions?"

Lan's reasoning was straightforward.

The recipients of human enhancement surgeries were usually warriors, so memories related to [Combat] would undoubtedly be abundant.

And due to the inherent nature of this gene seed, [Biochemical Knowledge] had been highly developed among the generations of Space Marines. This also aligned with Lan's own goals.

By extracting useful information from the vast sea of ten thousand years of memories, he could use it as study material.

Then, by passing academic proficiency tests, he could obtain higher-level AI permissions, unlocking more computational power. Eventually, Mentos would be able to organize the chaotic memories into a searchable database.

This would allow for more efficient learning, grading, and upgrading...

A virtuous cycle would be established!

"Hmm..."

Even with its computational power heavily taxed, Mentos's voice still carried a hint of astonishment. This loophole was something it hadn't anticipated.

"The [Combat] program is part of the Federation Military Academy curriculum. Without a connection to the academy, it is not accessible. [Biochemical Knowledge] falls under the Medical and Scientific Development Departments. Without proper registration, it is also inaccessible."

In the context of the Federation's vast network, "registration" might be as simple as checking a box or making a notification. But for Lan, who was cut off from the Federation's network, even a local network would be a dream come true!

However, a flexible mind could find creative solutions.

"It's understandable that [Combat] is restricted. But what about [Performance Combat], or [Ceremonial Combat]?"

Judging from the Space Marine in his memory, it was hard to believe that the man wasn't skilled in performance combat.

The guy had practically ingrained "aesthetics" into his very bones!

And based on what Lan had just learned about the hereditary nature of the gene seed, it was likely that most of the [Emperor's Children] legion were masters of combat artistry!

"...These two programs are more often classified as subcategories of [Performance] or [Etiquette]. They are indeed not restricted."

"Then, given that my current AI operation mode is [Survival Mode], where I'm in a dangerous and unfamiliar alien environment, self-taught [Biochemical Knowledge] to ensure my survival and development—is this unacceptable under Federation law?"

Mentos fell silent for a moment, seemingly scanning through the relevant clauses of the Education Law.

"...The [Survival Mode] successfully bypasses Clause 74, Subsection 5 of the Education Law, which restricts the dissemination of certain knowledge. [Biochemical Knowledge] learning permissions are now open to the host."

Somehow, Lan felt like he could hear a hint of exasperation in the AI's voice. But that must have been his imagination.

With his long-term learning strategy now clear, Lan also had a reasonable explanation for his current impulse to refine himself to near perfection.

The implantation of the gene seed could be considered a complete success.

Although only an hour had passed since the gene seed was implanted, the increase in toxicity resistance was already staggering.

Lan suspected that as the gene seed further integrated with his body, even without the implantation of additional enhancement organs, his body would undergo even more significant changes.

For example, his magic reserves.

Unlike sorcerers, a witcher's magic reserves were primarily determined by their physical strength.

With the exception of the Griffin School, most witcher schools didn't have the magic reserves to cast two Signs in quick succession.

Like Lan's previous overexertion.

But now, even though less than an hour had passed, Lan felt a sense of magic recovery. This feeling usually occurred after using a Sign. And he hadn't used any magic in a long time.

This was new magic filling the increased capacity.

The changes brought by the gene seed would require long-term observation.

But first, Lan planned to clean up the room.

"Whew—Arya, come give me a hand."

Lan let out a long breath. The sense of accomplishment from achieving a goal through hard work and perseverance was intoxicating.

He got up from the bed and handed the broom in the corner to the little girl. He then began gathering his surgical equipment and moving the furniture he had shifted earlier.

He hadn't forgotten why he had left Aretuza and come to the Silver Heron Tavern to implant the gene seed.

He didn't want to draw attention.

The bloodstains on the floor weren't too extensive, as [Swallow] had stopped the bleeding in time. Lan planned to order a few oily dishes later and use the grease to obscure the stains, then cover them with dust and a rug.

The ceiling would be treated the same way. As for the bed, he would just have to pay extra for cleaning, telling the owner that he had accidentally cut his hand.

"You followed our plan, right, Arya? Was there anything unusual downstairs?" As Lan moved the furniture, he asked Arya if anything had drawn attention.

The little girl, despite her noble upbringing, worked diligently without complaint. The broom swished rapidly in her hands.

"Cough! No, nothing. Just like you said, it was an ordinary day. No one would have guessed that a witcher was upstairs performing mysterious alchemy on this ordinary day."

"Being unremarkable is better cover than being isolated—when no traces are left behind." Lan reiterated his philosophy to the girl.

In preparing for the gene seed implantation, the thing he had spent the most effort on and left the most traces of was the potions.

But even at Aretuza, Lan had made it seem like he was simply preparing potions for future battles.

Soon, the room was restored to its original state, aside from the lingering smell of blood. The bloodstains and scent on the bedding could be explained by Lan's bloodied hands.

Both the witcher and the little girl relaxed.

"Everyone acted normally? Including that group of Skellige guards?" Out of caution, Lan double-checked with the girl.

Arya nodded naturally at the first part.

"Everyone was normal. The bartender, who's great at telling stories, even gave me a beer with butter and caramel. Combined with the meal he sent up, I was stuffed. But..."

As she spoke, Lan nodded casually. But in the next moment, her words caused his amber cat-like eyes to narrow into slits!

"Skellige? Where's that? This is just a tavern. Why would there be guards? At most, there'd be some thugs, right?"

What are you talking about...?!

No guards?!

Before Lan could untangle the sudden chaos in his thoughts, a melodious yet mysterious whistle echoed from the hallway outside the door.

*****

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