Lone Cultivator In Another World

"My question is…"

'Where are the biggest undiscovered deposits of precious metals?'

'How can I give the people what they need more than anything?'

'What happened on the day of the Chaos comet?'

'What are my enemies' intentions?'

Hundreds of ideas surfaced in Michael's mind, but none of them were as promising as the last two. Was there a way to combine them?

A complex question. Would the infofield fall for this trick?

Michael didn't hesitate any longer.

"How is everyone interested in me in relation to the day when another world's genes influenced the humans?"

Such questions are called complex. They contain an in-built assumption.

For example, "Have you stopped using drugs?" It implies the person has used drugs at least once. Answering both yes and no means they have indeed used them. Only a flat refusal indicates they haven't.

Michael's question included an assumption that the Chaos comet carried another world's genes. He was 80% confident in that fact, so he used it as a base. If he was wrong, the infofield would refuse to answer, which would mean there weren't another world's genes on the comet.

Glory made whirring sounds and suddenly laughed in an old man's voice, "Not bad, kid!"

Michael didn't have time to react to that. A round see-through tube appeared from the ceiling, like the ones aliens use to abduct people in sci-fi movies. Michael was stuck inside.

As soon as he touched the walls of the tube, he knew he had no way to break them.

"Infolink materialized. Data transfer initiated," Glory droned on in its usual robotic voice.

Michael realized he had succeeded. His assumption was correct! The Chaos comet was not a comet at all, but an otherworldly object with genetic material.

In the next moment, he could no longer hear his own thoughts. They were replaced by thousands of images and sounds.

Every human and Alter who knew about Michael because of his video had thoughts about him. There were gratitude, disbelief, indifference and more. Some wanted to talk to him, to marry him. Others wished to to interrogate him and use him to their advantage.

Michael learned about every intention of every person involved.

He chose to ask about interests instead of people. If he knew president Myshkin had bad intentions in mind, what could he do? Nothing.

This way, he learned about plans he could prepare against.

Soon, the amount of information overwhelmed him. There was a limit to what his 400 Mental Power could absorb and process, and the package far exceeded that limit. A frightening headache started to gnaw on Michael's brain.

At the same time, the moment the infolink opened fully, Michael became a part of the infofield. The place that stored all the information about his world's past and present. The limitless energy pool connected to the World Tree.

An immense pressure began to weigh on Michael, reckless power ripping into his flesh. He had to split his concentration and rotate Life Force in his body to accommodate the cruel energy.

Five minutes.

Ten minutes.

Half an hour.

Knock knock. "Misha, have you gone to sleep?" a hushed voice asked from behind the door.

"Leave him, Nadya. If he needs to work, let him work. If he's asleep, don't wake him. Let's go to bed," answered a deep, manly one.

"Ah, what are you doing, you brute?" the woman's angry tone had a hint of playfulness.

"Volunteering to do my marital duty, he-he."

"Shhh, not here. Misha might hear us!"

"Right, follow me."

If Michael wasn't caught in a terrible predicament, who knows how red he would be at breakfast tomorrow?

But he was currently enduring a wave after wave of energy trying to crush him into meat paste and a rush of information frying his brain.

One hour.

Three hours.

Six hours.

And then, without a warning, the assault stopped. The tube disappeared. The room looked untouched by what just happened there. Only a handsome young man fell on the floor like a marionette with its wires cut.

"Holy crap. Something's not right."

After trying to stand up, Michael discovered that his limbs didn't obey him.

"Glory, what happened?"

"Host has received reward."

"Oh yeah? It felt like a punishment."

Michael sank his mind into his body and marveled at the amount of energy within. The milky-white Life Force was three times thicker, and his bones and muscles were tougher than before.

Fighting through the exhaustion, he rotated the energy according to the cultivation technique. With every circle, his vitality grew. Soon, he regained basic control over his body again.

"Oooh, that's what getting hammered is really like," he complained, settling on the bed. "Glory, status."

The program revealed a wondrous change.

[Name: Michael North (Mikhail Severniy)]

[Age: 15-35]

[Cultivation: 2-stage, 3-star]

[Mental Power: 900]

[Life Force: 300]

[Energy Field (locked)]

[True Soul (locked)]

The sun was rising. It took the infofield a whole night to answer Michael's question.

Only a week ago, he broke through to the 2-stage of cultivation, and now, he was on the verge of 4-star. Michael sensed that after a week, another breakthrough would follow.

"Glory, open the shop!"

When he saw the available abilities, Michael didn't know whether to laugh or cry.

Perfect hair and teeth!

Perfect skin condition!

Reduced bodily functions!

Earlier, he got Inability to Sweat and Pleasant Body Fragrance. Glory was determined to turn him into a lead singer in a boy band.

"Can I get something useful next time?" he begged.

"Every ability in shop is unique and suitable for host."

"What do you mean by suitable? Am I an ugly stinky troll?"

"Host is human."

"No comment on the 'ugly stinky' part, huh?"

Arguing with the program was as meaningless as ever, but Michael still enjoyed the banter.

He opened the library next. To Michael's surprise, next to the Martial techniques tab, there was another one, titled Psionic skills.

"Glory, when did this become available?"

"After host's Mental Power exceeded 500."

Michael skimmed through the skills. As a rule of thumb, they cost a hundred times more than techniques of the same grade. For instance, if B-grade Tai Chi cost a few hundred thousand per level, then B-grade Psionic skills were in tens of millions.

Suddenly, Michael's million points didn't look like much.

He decided to hold off on spending all he had. Compared to the E- and D-grade skills he could afford, learning Tai Chi and healing Anna's mom were far more important.

He bought some cheap F-grade stuff like Mind Shove and Mind Bash, just to get a feel for them.

Then, level 5 of Tai Chi. Seeing that level 6 cost the full price, 400,000 points, Michael bought it too. B-grade martial techniques ranged from one to nine hundred thousand, which meant Tai Chi was a lower mid-level one.

Finally, he had to deal with the information inside his head. Groaning all the way, he assumed a more comfortable position for meditation and sank his mind into the depths of his memory.

Even though he got overwhelmed by the infofield, his perfect memory allowed him to recall every bit of information he received.

There was so much to sift through, Michael spent several hours in meditation.

Worry for his well-being and suspicion that he hid things from them. Mom and dad.

Happiness that a good person like him became the first Alter. Who else but Anna.

Hatred. Why did father die on that day and this Michael guy got powers? Those thoughts belonged to a child in Malaysia.

Envy. Her son was born untalented and had trouble with schoolwork. If only this Michael North was her child! That was a woman from China.

Idolization. Some 17-year-old treated Michael as God and wished to become his follower. Michael couldn't tell that person's gender or where they lived.

The whole specter of emotions from curiosity to disgust, from fear to amus.e.m.e.nt.

Somewhere among these people were his university friend Pavel, his newest employee Buddy Earl, Graves and Jones, Leon and Alice. Michael couldn't distinguish them all.

He sat there for hours with his eyes closed. Sometimes, his brows twitched when he discovered a scheme aimed at him. The sun was at its highest when Michael finished cataloguing his enemies' bad intentions. Among them was the one he felt most apprehensive about.

He opened his eyes unhurriedly, "Project… Indigo?"