I loaded the Mysticism panel.

Consciousness swam upwards from a deep pool, and Richard slowly opened his eyes.

The ceiling was made of white plaster, and there was a long, narrow crack in the corner.

He stared at the crack for about ten seconds, his mind blank, like a computer that had just been turned on and hadn't finished loading its software.

Memories began to flood in.

One set belongs to the earth: riding a shared bike home involves going uphill, and he always has to get off and push it during the most difficult part.

He was in poor health; the doctor said he was born with a weak constitution, and catching colds and fevers was a regular occurrence. His roommate often called him "Little Dog."

After get off work, I like to spend my time on folklore forums, browsing through those half-true, half-false posts about field research.

He is very knowledgeable about the witchcraft traditions, folk spirit communication rituals, and shamanic culture of various places.

I've written a few half-baked research articles and am fairly well-known in the field.

The other set is this one: Bristol winter, cobblestone streets, the smell of pipes in the father's study.

In the memory of that boy named Richard Williams, about ten days ago, his mother's family held a gathering in the capital.

The Williams family rarely kept their appointment, and the cost of their round-trip train tickets caused the father considerable distress for quite some time.

But my mother insisted on going, saying that my maternal grandfather had called her name.

At the party, his cousin pulled him aside, took a small object out of his pocket, and handed it to him:

"This is a gift for you. It's supposedly an old item from the Eastern Continent. You can hang it up for fun."

It was a thumb-sized bronze pendant with rust on the surface and incomprehensible symbols engraved on the front.

Li found it quite interesting and hung it around her neck.

From that day on, my health deteriorated day by day.

At first, I was just tired and felt like I hadn't slept enough.

My hands and feet got cold, and no matter how much I tried to warm them by the fire, they wouldn't come back warm.

On the fifth day, I started coughing and developed a low-grade fever.

My mother made ginger soup and called the community doctor, who said it was just a common cold and prescribed some medicine.

But after taking the medicine, he developed a high fever that night and never woke up again.

Memories collide here, like wet mud seeping into each other and merging together.

The boundaries became increasingly blurred, until they eventually became the same person.

Richard quickly accepted the status quo.

I'm alive here, but this is another world, so let's figure out the situation first.

He turned his head to look out the window.

Across the street, a dozen or so chimneys stood densely packed on the rooftops, each spewing columns of black ash into the sky.

In the distance, some large machine is operating, and low-frequency vibrations are transmitted through the foundation.

This is Briston, Richard thought, running the name through his mind.

Briston is a manufacturing city located in the northern industrial region of the Albion Empire on the western continent, with a population of approximately 200,000.

Using the concept of a previous life as a reference, civilian technology existed before World War II, except that this world had some... other things.

Just as he bent down to feel for his socks under the bed, an information bar appeared floating at the edge of his field of vision:

【body】

Breathing Lv. — Experience: —/—

Sleeping Lv. — Experience: —/—

Walking Lv. — Experience: —/—

Eating Level 1 - Experience: —/—

【wisdom】

Knowledge Lv. — Experience: —/—

Speculation Lv. — Experience: —/—

Perception Lv. — Experience: —/—

[Spirit] (Locked)

Sure enough, I have a cheat code!

Richard excitedly began to explore.

The branches of the two major categories, "physical" and "intellectual," are clearly visible, but they bounce back as soon as they are touched, as if they have not yet been activated.

The "Spirit" option only had a vague lock-shaped symbol. He tried to touch the lock with his consciousness, but there was no response.

After touching it again, another, smaller notification appeared below the lock:

[Only when all four aspects of the body are activated can this gate be opened.]

The conditions are clear: only when the four aspects of the "body"—breathing, sleeping, walking, and eating—are unlocked will the "spirit" be opened.

As for what exactly is inside the "spirit"... he withdrew his attention and decided not to think about it for now.

Available points: 0

Having nothing at all is a bit unpleasant.

His gaze swept over the bedside table, where the ornament was placed.

It was probably taken down and left there by my mother when she was taking care of me after I had a fever.

Richard reached out and picked it up, intending to seal it away and throw it away later.

The panel moved the instant your fingertip touched the copper surface.

Available points: 0.1

He was stunned.

It was zero just now, but now it's 0.1.

The fingers didn't loosen, and the numbers kept rising.

0.45……0.63……0.71……Something is seeping out of the ornament.

Richard turned the pendant over and twirled it between his fingers.

0.82...0.91...

The last breath seeped out from the bronze surface, so faint as to be almost imperceptible.

Available points: 1

The numbers stopped.

Richard placed the pendant back in his palm and waited a while longer, but the price didn't rise again.

I was getting weaker every day while wearing this thing, and I died after getting a fever.

Richard put the ornament back on the bedside table.

Does my cousin Vincent know that there's something wrong with this stuff?

Let's not jump to conclusions yet, but we should remember this.

He looked at the panel again: [Available points: 1].

I tried focusing my attention on the different branches of "physical" and "intellectual".

You can contribute to each one, but only a little, just enough for one item.

He mentally reviewed the options.

The three aspects of "wisdom"—knowledge, critical thinking, and perception—are all useful.

But these three things have one thing in common: they all require proactive behavior to accumulate experience.

Reading increases knowledge, thinking increases critical thinking, and observation increases perception.

Efficiency depends on how much energy he puts in, and energy itself is limited by the body.

To put it bluntly, this body is currently in a broken state.

Repair the jar first, then fill it with things; that depends on the "body".

Sleep: When sleeping, you are unconscious and have the weakest physical sensations. You can only sleep for a maximum of ten hours a day.

Walking: Walking takes effort; this body gets out of breath even if I walk fast.

Meals: Meals are limited by food supply, and the situation at this house...

In my memory, there were those subconscious calculations my mother made every time she cooked.

How many more days can this piece of butter last? Can the broth be diluted with water and reheated for another meal?

The outlook for eating well is clearly not optimistic.

Breathing: It happens every moment, requires no active intervention, does not consume extra energy, and does not depend on external resources.

Logically, this is not a multiple-choice question.

He focused his attention on the word "breathing" and gently pushed his consciousness towards it.

A line of text appeared: "Confirm?"

Richard thought for about half a second and then pressed the button.

The gray faded faster than he had expected.

[Breathing] Lv.1 Experience: 0/200

At first, a slight heat emanated from deep within my chest cavity, and a thin tube was gently inserted into it.

Richard subconsciously took a breath.

In the industrial era, the air in cities was filled with coal smoke, sulfur, rust, and furnace ash.

Most of the adults here suffer from asthma; some have mild coughs in autumn and winter, while others have severe cases that last their entire lives until death.

His lungs had grown larger from being exposed to the smoke and dust, and his chest cavity always felt like it was filled with a damp cotton ball, to the point that he had long forgotten that it wasn't a normal feeling.

But after the treatment, he felt for the first time that breathing was such a wonderful thing.

He glanced at the numbers:

[Breathing] Lv.1 Experience: 1/200

It rose a little, as subtle as blood flow in a capillary, but it was moving.

He mentally estimated:

A normal breathing rate is about 15 breaths per minute, 900 breaths per hour, and more than 20,000 breaths per day.

At this rate, it should take about two weeks to reach the maximum experience level.

He was somewhat looking forward to seeing what changes would occur after reaching full experience.

Putting the matter aside, Richard put on his other sock and got up to find his shirt.

The smell of bread wafting up from downstairs onto the grill.

After getting dressed, he carefully examined himself in the mirror in the wardrobe.

The person in the mirror has brown hair and gray eyes, with slightly prominent cheekbones and collarbones.

The shirt felt loose when I put it on, and I had to roll up the cuffs twice to make sure my fingers weren't covered.

This is also a greyhound.

He straightened his collar, pushed open the door, and went downstairs.

The restaurant is small, but it is kept very clean.

Father Rogers was already seated at the table.

He was sipping black tea while reading the Briston Post in his hand.

"Get up," the father said, turning a page of the newspaper as a greeting.

"Hmm." Richard sat down in the chair.

"Does your throat still hurt?"

"It doesn't hurt anymore."

"Be careful at school today, don't catch a cold."

"understood."

From the kitchen came his mother's voice: "Richard, how many slices of bread will you eat today?"

Two pieces are enough.

"Two slices aren't enough, look how thin you are," her mother nagged. "I'll add an egg for you."

Richard glanced at his mother, Margaret, as she came out of the kitchen carrying a plate.

She had delicate features and pale skin.

He walks with a light and slow gait, and occasionally he will unconsciously press his chest.

The fact that the woman had a chronic breathing problem added a touch of delicate beauty to her appearance.

The fragments pieced together from memory are few:

My mother came from the Ashford family in the capital, but she didn't seem to have a high status there.

Whenever her maternal grandfather's family is mentioned, her tone is always indifferent.

Evelyn, the younger sister, was the last to come downstairs.

Her hair was half-covering her head, and the bow was only tied halfway, with the other half dangling.

Evelyn was a year younger than him and had the same brown hair and gray eyes as him.

She inherited her mother's beauty, and her vitality at fifteen years old made that beauty full and vibrant.

Richard inherited another side of his mother—her frail and delicate constitution.

"Sit still." The father, as usual, didn't look up.

Evelyn glanced at Richard, somewhat puzzled.

She noticed that her brother was a little different today.

Mother brought the food out and placed it on the table:

Toasted bread and butter, a small dish of marmalade, two cups of tea, and the extra egg for Richard.

Richard looked at the egg that only he had and sighed inwardly. The situation at home was not optimistic either.

The father put down his newspaper: "Greenwood's tuition this year is 20% more expensive than last year."

Richard didn't pretend not to hear like he used to: "I'm thinking of finding a part-time job recently."

Even Evelyn looked up at him.

"What kind of part-time job?"

"Still looking," Richard said. "There might be assistant positions in the library, or something like helping people copy things, so it shouldn't interfere with classes."

The father frowned: "Improve your grades first, then we can talk about part-time jobs later."

Evelyn stirred her tea with a spoon and whispered, "I can too..."

"You can focus on your studies."

The girl shrugged, lowered her face, and focused on the piece of bread.