Chapter 10: This Game's Chairs Can Be Sat On, and the Food Isn't Just Textures!_2

But even so, Lin Miao still had some resistance to the idea of modification. He wasn't a player; he couldn't see his body as a mere contraption for equipping gear and chasing stats.

On the street, he'd seen those gang members with patches of surgical repair scars all over their skin—hulking figures over 2 meters tall, weighing two or three hundred kilograms were common, but they looked to Lin Miao like ragdolls haphazardly pieced together after being chopped up, and that was considered restrained since at least they still had a human shape.

In the full-body modification surgeries recommended by big corporate offices, it was not uncommon to turn oneself into a monster, with legs turned into flexible balancing rods, fingers growing aquatic webs, skin replaced with optical scales or coated in chrome, shining bright—where did these still resemble a human?

How much flesh remains under that skin?

Even the fingertips needed to be modified into bulbs, sprayers, or even syringes; the more sophisticated ones could release mini drones or cameras, turning them into nothing but complete machines.

But what can you do? In this world, if you don't modify, you can't survive. Even Huang Ban Sanlang, who can say for certain a stray bullet won't end up in his forehead one day?

His old body, a mere nudge could break twenty bones.

[Will I get cyberpsychosis?]

[There is no possibility of your humanity index dropping, and the system will overwrite the original version in the prosthetic, so no software conflicts will occur, but differences in hardware interfaces still need attention.]

[Are you roundabout insulting me for having no humanity?]

[You misunderstood, the system does not employ roundabout tactics.]

[You're impressive.] Lin Miao didn't want to dwell on this anymore; once decided, there was no turning back. [What does 'Horizon' mean as a prosthetic prefix?]

[It is the system's iteration product after modifying existing market prosthetics.]

[So it's a knockoff, what's the difference?]

Lin Miao curled his lip, sounds nice.

[The system initially optimized the crystal structure of titanium alloy, the bones are made with a dense porous structure, decreasing weight by 30% while maintaining original strength, and the marrow can still freely transport differentiated cells externally.]

[Note that due to your weak physical body, it's recommended to pair with bionic joints and enhanced tendons, otherwise it will reduce agility and stamina.]

He intended to do that even without the system's comment, although from the system's angle, the wear-and-tear on these two things was more severe than the old gun he carried, but wouldn't it be a waste not to use the equipment that dropped?

Whiteboard it is—change it later then.

Lin Miao walked to the basement, where five coffin-like modification pods were arranged in the chilly environment. The players sleeping inside had serene expressions under the faint white light. The whole atmosphere was so eerie it was perfect for shooting a horror film.

Actually, even without the modification pod, you could just toss a player's body into some nook or cranny and they'd log in the next day as usual, though waking up might leave them sore all over. If not for the biological material being insufficient and hard to control, Lin Miao would have pulled out an entire legion by now.

Following the system's guidance, he opened his own modification pod, took the prosthetic from the Night Wanderer out of the box, and placed it on the surgical table pulled out from the left side of the pod. Then he released the titanium alloy skeleton from his backpack. As he held it in his hands, it sank down, almost making him drop it.

This anatomical model wobbled in Lin Miao's hands, every bone creaking.

Fuck, hell of a weight, at least sixty pounds. No wonder you need to pair it with enhanced tendons and bionic joints; a normal person would struggle to walk carrying this thing.

After dumping the anatomical skeleton onto the table, Lin Miao, slightly out of breath, stripped down and lay in the modification pod. Activating the surgical modification, the unknown soft gel bedding felt quite comfortable. The diffuse lighting above was almost soporific, and as the faint white anesthetic gas sprayed from side vents, he soon lost consciousness and fell into a deep sleep.

When Lin Miao woke again, it was already eight or nine at night.

What he didn't know was that although the titanium alloy skeleton looked no different from those in the store, realistically, unless someone chose full-body prosthetics, no one would modify the spine—that's connected to the central nervous system; messing around there recklessly would lead to paralysis. At most, people would coat it with a layer of titanium shell and some enhanced pins. What he saw in prosthetic ads about full skeletal prosthetics was just a titanium shell. Most people only underwent partial modifications or simply plated a layer of titanium on the bone surface.

The one he was holding was a solid piece hollowed for neural placement—stuff only cyberpsych fanatics would use.

But as Lin Miao rose from the pod, he was completely unaware. He looked over his body in bewilderment—no incision marks from scalpels, no blood residue. He didn't feel any different; it was as if he'd merely taken a nap. When he touched his back, it was perfectly smooth.

[System... is this all there is to the surgery? You're not messing with me, are you?!]

[If you wish, I can play you a song called 'Good Luck' as congratulations. Of course, you can also look to the side; that's a memento I left for you.]

To the side?

Lin Miao turned his head in confusion.

"Damn!"

He was so startled he jumped straight out of the modification pod because there, on the surgical table that had originally held the prosthetic, sat a gleaming white skeleton, perched on the surgical bench, its chin resting on its arm, posed like a thinker. Judging by the direction of its eye sockets, it had been staring at where Lin Miao had just been lying.