Inside the high-security cultivation lab, a one-foot silver blade hovered next to Sun Yi. It was the “Dragon Roar,” a Tier-1 artifact from the corporate archives that boasted specs nearly rivaling a Tier-2 weapon. Enveloped in a golden aura, it hummed with lethal potential.

Sun Yi’s eyes flashed with intensity. He formed a seal with his right hand, executing the Golden Sword Art.

Execute Program.

The Dragon Roar transformed into a streak of golden light, darting across the room like a laser-guided drone. Sun Yi tracked it with his mind, sending it weaving through imaginary obstacles.

For the first time, Sun Yi wasn’t just a manager looking at spreadsheets; he was a user piloting high-end hardware. The sensation was electric—pure dopamine. It reminded him of booting up a next-gen console for the first time.

After an hour of intense flight simulation, the “Low Battery” warning hit. His Dantian was empty.

With a thought, the Dragon Roar dissolved into golden light and docked back into his Dantian.

“Battery life is terrible,” Sun Yi complained, wiping sweat from his forehead. “One hour of uptime? That’s barely a demo.”

Luo An sat in the corner, looking exhausted just by watching. “Sect Leader, you are trying to wield a supreme artifact with a mortal foundation. You’re at Qi Refining Level 7 driving a near-Tier-2 sword. The fact that you lasted an hour proves your spiritual energy is abnormally dense.”

“It’s an optimization issue,” Sun Yi muttered. “If the output is fixed, I need to increase capacity. Either I upgrade my cultivation base… or I add more battery packs.”

He turned to Luo An. “What about multi-core processing? Opening additional Dantians?”

Luo An blinked. “Additional… Dantians? Sect Leader, human anatomy follows the Dao. It does not support such modification.”

“I found a dev log in the archives,” Sun Yi said, pulling out a dusty jade slip. “The author theorized a parallel processing architecture for spiritual energy.”

Luo An took the slip, his eyes widening as he read the signature. He handed it back with a grimace. “Senior ‘Mad Luo.’ That explains it. He was a legendary genius three hundred years ago who succumbed to Qi deviation. Literally. He died from systematic organ failure trying to install a second Dantian. It is a forbidden path, Sect Leader. A dead end.”

“His code looks solid, though,” Sun Yi mused, tapping his chin. “Maybe he just lacked the resources to debug it.”

“Please, Sect Leader,” Luo An pleaded. “Stick to the orthodox Dao. Do not ruin your foundation.”

Sun Yi sighed. “Fine. We’ll stick to the roadmap for now.” He gestured to the sword. “Performance review?”

Luo An hesitated, then gave an honest appraisal. “For a week of training? Unbelievable. But technically? It is unstable. You have the raw power, but no finesse. You are forcing the technique with brute strength. You need more time to comprehend the intent.”

“Agreed,” Sun Yi nodded. “Time to recharge.”

He sat down and pulled out two Top-Grade Spirit Stones.

Luo An flinched. “Sect Leader, please… not the Top-Grades. You’re burning a Dragon’s treasure to boil water. You’re wasting 70% of the energy!”

“Time is money, Luo An,” Sun Yi said, closing his eyes. “Efficiency isn’t about saving pennies; it’s about speed to market. If I waste energy but save time, that’s a net profit.”

He activated his cultivation technique. A torrent of pure spiritual energy flooded his system. In one hour, he was fully recharged.

Without the stones, this cycle would have taken five days of meditation. Sun Yi had just bought himself 119 hours of productivity for the price of a few stones. To him, that was a steal.

“Rebooting,” Sun Yi announced, eyes snapping open.

He launched the Golden Sword Art again. The room filled with the hiss of cutting air.

For the next few days, Sun Yi entered a state of ‘Crunch Mode.’

Eat. Sleep. Code (Cultivate). Repeat.

He burned through Top-Grade Spirit Stones like they were AAA batteries. He drank Tier-3 Spirit Tea like water. He badgered Luo An with endless technical questions and cross-referenced every manual in the library.

It was an obscene display of pay-to-win mechanics. And it worked.

By day five, the software update was complete.

Sun Yi stood in the center of the room. He snapped his fingers.

The Dragon Roar shot out, embedding itself halfway into the stone wall.

Return.

It zipped back instantly. Sun Yi shifted his hand seal.

Fork Process.

The sword split into three distinct golden construct-swords.

Target Lock.

Thwack-thwack-thwack!

Three perfect holes appeared in the opposite wall.

Merge.

The three blades flew back, converging above Sun Yi’s head into a massive, two-meter greatsword of solid light. The pressure in the room spiked.

“Delete,” Sun Yi whispered, pointing a finger.

SLASH!

The giant blade cleaved the air, gouging a ten-meter trench into the stone floor. The cut was smooth as glass.

The sword vanished, reintegrating into Sun Yi’s body.

Sun Yi exhaled, a satisfied grin on his face. He finally had a weaponized feature set.

“Congratulations, Sect Leader,” Luo An said, bowing deeply. His voice was a mix of awe and horror. “Golden Sword Art: Mastered.”

He had watched a novice become an expert in a week simply by throwing money at the problem until it went away. It was inspiring. It was disgusting. It was effective.

“I couldn’t have done it without your guidance,” Sun Yi said, clapping Luo An on the shoulder. “Now that the software is patched, it’s time for a stress test.”

He looked toward the door. “I’m going to the Battle Tower.”