Chapter 26: The Surgery Concludes

In this day and age, cybernetic implants have become a common, everyday occurrence—to the point where "naturals" without such augmentations face a certain degree of discrimination.

Groups of naturals who advocate for "rejecting implants and returning to one's original state" are common targets for mockery online. Endless memes circulate, and the cycle of trolling, baiting, and flaming never ceases.

However.

Every individual has a different threshold for mental endurance; one cannot simply install implants indefinitely. The theoretical limit for a normal human is 50% modification, but 40% is generally considered a dangerous threshold, with a high probability of triggering cyber-psychosis.

Taking the middle class as an example, most keep their modification level at around 15% out of such considerations.

Even mercenaries with clear combat needs rarely exceed 35%. Yet, a natural body simply cannot compete with cybernetic enhancements. Those who spend their lives in a hail of gunfire, constantly facing death, must consider what to do about their remaining organic parts. They cannot simply let these parts drag them down, acting as the weak link in the bucket theory of vulnerability.

On the battlefield, being a weak link means death.

Thus, gear like the "White Armor Type-III Power Bracer" was born.

Inside the case before Song Shi lay a bracer.

Its exterior was finished in a dark-white paint. It eschewed the common, sleek designs in favor of a heavier, more substantial aesthetic, reminiscent of the bracers worn by armored soldiers of antiquity.

Taking it a step further, the hand section was composed of dense, overlapping scales that could completely envelop the five fingers, leaving no gaps or weak points.

Although the design was mechanical, the "White Armor Type-III" featured an internal neural link port. When a user slid their arm into the bracer, they could connect via this port, significantly increasing control precision.

This was one of the combat solutions intended to replace full cybernetic implants.

Compared to replacing an entire arm with a prosthetic, this method only required a surgical procedure to install a neural interface on the arm. Being a semi-augmentation, it placed significantly less stress on the human psyche.

Of course, it had its drawbacks. Firstly, it was inconvenient; after all, external equipment cannot be worn at all times, making one prone to being caught off guard in sudden situations, unlike cybernetics which are available anytime, anywhere.

Secondly, compared to complete "cyberneticization," even if neural linking could bridge the gap in control precision, it would always fall short—it was the difference between using "one's own arm" and "external equipment."

As for the pinnacle of this type of combat solution, that would be the "Exoskeleton Armor."

Theoretically, the strongest mass-producible exoskeleton armor in the world was the "Blessed Armor" of the Vanpustar Empire—though, in truth, that thing was forged using a degree of psionic technology, so at least in Song Shi’s mind, it had long since been disqualified from the "exoskeleton" category.

"White Armor Type-III..."

Gazing at the power bracer, Song Shi suddenly felt a sense of nostalgia.

In his previous life—twenty years later—the "White Armor" series had been discontinued for seven or eight years due to poor market performance. The final product was the White Armor Type-VIII Promax, hailed as a pathetic cash-grab that relied on nostalgia, a desperate attempt to make one last profit before the line died out.

But for Song Shi, he still held a certain affection for the series.

The early "White Armor" models, despite their high operational difficulty, offered performance that ranked among the best in their market segment and price range.

Of course, some might consider the "high operational difficulty" to be a major issue, but Song Shi had never encountered such a problem.

Does it really take more than three tries to master it?

Consequently, Song Shi had used the "White Armor" series for quite some time. Unfortunately, the later models became increasingly shoddy, and given its position in the low-to-mid-range market, it could no longer keep up with Song Shi’s combat intensity, eventually phasing out of his loadout.

"Amikaba, let's use the right arm."

Song Shi pulled up his sleeve, revealing an arm with fluid muscle definition. The original owner hadn't been much of an athlete, but after the physical enhancement brought about by his "psionic awakening," his body was now comparable to that of a top-tier natural athlete.

"Hmm." Amikaba nodded.

Song Shi lay down on the surgical chair, letting the nearby equipment secure his right arm, and waited quietly.

After a moment, noticing Amikaba hadn't approached yet, Song Shi turned his head and saw the man pull a prayer mat from somewhere, kneel upon it, and begin bowing toward a portrait on the wall.

He was muttering things like "The Two Hundred and Ninety-First Venerable Physician," "May Jivaka bless us," "May the surgery be a success," and "I offer this with a sincere heart."

Song Shi remained silent for a moment, choosing to respect the individual differences.

Although, as far as he knew, apart from the "Sacred Entity" artificially created by the Vanpustar Empire through centuries of state-mandated religious worship as part of their theocratic rule, all other myths in the world were merely legends formed by various figures and events throughout history, or the physical manifestations of specific ideologies and cultural systems.

The prototypes of those mythological figures were nothing more than ancient psionic users.

Even he himself, in his past life, possessed enough psionic power at the peak of the Fourth Ring of the "Great Origin" path to strike down ninety percent of those mythological archetypes.

But...

Song Shi respected individual differences.

After Amikaba finished praying to the statue of Jivaka, just as Song Shi thought the surgery was about to begin, the man snapped his fingers. A row of speakers suddenly popped out from the walls, and a powerful, rhythmic beat filled the operating room.

"Ek ladki thi deewani si! Ek ladke pe woh marti thi!"

"Nazrein jhukake sharmake! Galiyon se guzarti thi—"

Accompanied by this music, Amikaba’s entire demeanor shifted instantly. His right prosthetic hand clicked, and a series of tools popped out.

With a solemn, sacred expression, Amikaba moved with grace, spinning as he approached. Every movement seemed exaggerated, yet it flowed perfectly with the rhythm of the music, possessing a strange, unique beauty.

Song Shi opened his mouth, then chose to keep it shut.

Respect... cultural differences.

...

Thirty minutes later.

"A set of twelve neural stabilizers. Remember to take two a week, otherwise, watch out for the whole arm rotting off. Don't come crying to me if you're reckless; I'll just put two bullets in you."

"Also, be aware: your cybernetic integration level is too low. Even with the power bracer, don't wear it for too long. Three times a day, half an hour each is plenty. Any more and you risk amputation."

Amikaba stood with his arms crossed, watching Song Shi test his arm.

His fees were certainly not low, but Song Shi had to admit the man’s technique was worth the price. The entire surgery had been seamless, clean, and swift, without a single hitch.

As if guessing what he was thinking, Amikaba sneered. "It's just a minor surgery, how could I mess it up? You don't think it's difficult, do you? You don't, right? Right?"

Song Shi sighed and said nothing.

The surgery was complete, and since they had no real rapport, Song Shi picked up the briefcase and prepared to leave. The case was a bonus from Amikaba, containing the White Armor Type-III bracer, potent stimulants, coagulants, quick-acting bandages, and an all-band jammer, the "Atat Ring."

A few minutes later, a howl of grief echoed through the clinic.

"Damn it—! I specifically didn't mention the scalpel!"

"That kid still swiped it! My scalpel—! Damn cheapskate!"