Chapter Two: The Auxiliary Chip

Hey! Ha! “Faster, move faster! And you—did I teach you to draw your sword like that? If you don’t finish today, you don’t get to eat.”

As Hughes Bruck approached the training grounds, he heard the shouts of a group of boys about his age, mixed with the stern rebukes of their instructor.

“Uncle Lair, it’s been a long time,” Hughes greeted the instructor as he arrived. He knew Lair well—once his father’s right-hand man, a lieutenant who had contributed greatly to the Bruck family’s rise. Hughes had always been told by his father to respect Lair, who was said to have reached the rank of Grand Knight. Sadly, on an expedition with Hughes’s father, Lair had been wounded while saving the Count from a bandit attack—one eye lost, his strength diminished. Upon returning, he chose to teach new recruits at the training field.

“It’s been a while, young master Hughes!” Lair greeted him warmly, patting his shoulder. “Glad you could come. Your father told me to make sure I teach you well.”

With a clap of Lair’s hands, all eyes on the training ground turned to Hughes. The boys, much like Hughes in age, looked at him with curiosity and a hint of fear; after a moment, they lowered their gazes, not daring to meet his.

“So that’s the Count’s eldest son—the future heir. He looks about our age,” someone whispered.

“Yeah, and look at his eyes—they’re unusual. I’ve never seen anything like that.”

“Quiet!” Lair barked, and the grounds fell instantly silent. For these youths, training under Lair was bitter enough without risking further ire.

“From today, young master Hughes will train with you,” Lair announced, then sent the group back to their drills.

“Uncle Lair, are these boys all from the castle staff?” Hughes asked, curiosity in his eyes.

“Some of them are,” Lair replied as they walked the perimeter. “Many are sons of the castle’s servants or soldiers. The girls stay to help in the castle; the boys come here—unless they’re too frail. The rest are orphans, found wandering the streets—each year the family sends people to gather such children, raising them from youth to ensure their loyalty to the Bruck family. But Hughes, you’re different from them. Don’t worry too much about their affairs.”

“Yes, Uncle Lair. When do we start training? You know I dream every day of learning swordsmanship,” Hughes said eagerly, impatient to experience the knight’s power he’d seen in his predecessor’s memories.

Lair laughed heartily. “I know you’re eager, but first, let me explain what it means to be a knight.” He looked at Hughes and spoke slowly. “A knight is made, not born. Through tireless training and perseverance, ordinary people awaken the life energy within themselves. Once that is achieved, their bodies become far stronger than others—they become warriors, true knights. Only those who have awakened life energy deserve the title.”

“The number of knights forms the backbone of a nation’s power. Each knight can turn the tide of battle. Some master unique ways to wield their life energy, able to take on a hundred foes alone.”

Noticing a flicker of doubt in Hughes’ eyes, Lair drew his heavy sword and swung it at a nearby stone, cleaving it cleanly in two. In that instant, Hughes saw a white glow envelop the blade.

“That white glow… Is that life energy? Is this the power of a knight?” Hughes wondered, his heart racing.

Gazing at Lair with burning determination, Hughes vowed: I must awaken my life energy. No matter how hard it is, I must gain the strength to stand firm in this world. He understood well—his father could not protect him forever. If he lacked such ambition, the heir would not be him.

Only when power is in your own hands can you truly be secure. Perhaps, in this world, I can carve out an extraordinary life.

Lair was pleased with Hughes’s reaction—this was the result he wanted.

“Your father, Count Cray, is a knight. The Bruck family is a house of knights. Your father earned his title and lands through valor and strength on the battlefield,” Lair said seriously. “I hope you won’t let him down.”

“I won’t, Uncle Lair. I’ll work hard and become a knight as soon as I can!” Hughes promised loudly.

“Good.” Lair demonstrated several sword techniques—not many, but Hughes memorized them quickly. Along with the swordplay, there was also a breathing method. “This is the Bruck family’s swordsmanship and breathing technique, passed down for generations. I was fortunate to be taught by the Count himself. You must never share them with outsiders—understand?” Lair’s expression grew nostalgic, recalling his own days learning these arts.

“Don’t worry, Uncle Lair. I know what to do,” Hughes assured him.

“Good. I’ve taught you all I can for now—the rest is up to your own effort. The Count has high hopes for you, so he sent you to train here. Get familiar with the basics, and if you have questions, come find me. I’ll go check on those other boys.” With that, Lair strode off, leaving Hughes to practice.

Hughes picked up a wooden sword and began trying out the forms.

“Diagonal thrust, straight thrust, diagonal slash, vertical cut, horizontal cut…”

He swung the wooden sword again and again, adjusting his breathing with each movement.

After a while, Hughes massaged his sore wrists and panted. “This body’s not up to scratch… I’m already exhausted, and I can’t grasp the breathing technique at all. I’ll have to ask Uncle Lair for help.” He prepared to seek him out.

Suddenly, a voice sounded in his mind: “Beep! Auxiliary chip fusion with host soul complete.”

Before Hughes could react, a blue, holographic screen appeared before him.

Name: Li Xiu (Hughes Bruck)
Strength: 0.5
Agility: 0.4
Constitution: 0.4
Status: Discomfort due to strenuous exercise, host is advised to rest. (Note: The average adult male’s attributes are all 1.)

Hughes was speechless. Is this the legendary “golden finger” every transmigrator gets? How do I use this thing? he wondered. And these stats are so low! For the son of a count—his father so powerful—he himself was just a layabout.

Examining the panel, he noticed a flashing icon at the bottom and tapped it out of curiosity. Instantly, a flood of information poured into his mind, and he understood the chip’s origin and purpose.

His transmigration wasn’t due to the chip. Instead, during his passage through time and space, his soul collided with this auxiliary chip, which originally came from a technologically advanced world much like Earth. The chip had been developed to assist humans with complex tasks, installed directly into the brain. The version he now possessed was the latest model. Its original owner had died while fighting off invaders at the edge of their planet, and the chip drifted into the void, eventually merging with Li Xiu’s soul. It read his memories and generated this game-like status panel. Why the chip could fuse with a soul, however, was beyond Hughes’s understanding.

The chip’s functions were limited to three: scan, store, and analyze.

The scan function allowed Hughes to examine people and objects around him—though it required a vast database for accurate comparison.

The storage function could record everything Hughes experienced—sights, sounds, memories—unchanged, thanks to the soul-chip fusion.

Most satisfying to Hughes was the analyze function: it could simulate and optimize stored data, running three-dimensional simulations to perfect techniques, and imprinting the results deeply into his mind.

Hughes couldn’t help but smile. With this auxiliary chip, surviving in this era would be no problem at all. The future of Hughes Bruck was destined to be anything but ordinary.

“Chip, analyze the swordsmanship and breathing method in my mind and determine the most suitable training regimen for me,” he whispered.

“Beep! Task established. Analysis in progress. Estimated completion time: two hours.”

“Two hours—not bad. Chip, scan the physical stats of those around me,” Hughes instructed, curious to see the gap between himself and the others. Maybe his body wasn’t so bad after all.

“Beep! Task established. Scanning now.”

Instantly, data for several nearby boys appeared before his eyes.

“Name: Unknown. Gender: Male. Strength: 1.0. Agility: 0.8. Constitution: 0.9. Status: Healthy, slight dehydration.”

“Name: Unknown. Gender: Male. Strength: 1.1. Agility: 0.9. Constitution: 1.1. Status: Healthy.”

“Randall. Gender: Male. Strength: 1.1. Agility: 0.7. Constitution: 1.0. Status: Healthy.”

After reading the results, Hughes’s hopes were dashed. These weren’t just average stats—his own body really was subpar.

“What are you doing, Hughes? You’ve been standing here for ages,” Randall walked over and patted him on the back.

“Nothing, just thinking about swordsmanship,” Hughes replied evasively, relieved that only he could see the status panel.

“Come on, Hughes. Instructor Lair wants you.”

“Alright, let’s go.”

As they walked, Hughes glanced at the analysis progress—already at 50%. Just one more hour.

Once he mastered the right methods, maybe he could surpass them in just a few months. Hughes clenched his fist with renewed determination.