To Li Pan's surprise, the rampage and subjugation of the Bedsheet took only ten minutes—didn't even delay the shipnt…
Since money ca first, Li Pan had no ti to deal with the Tech Division's ss. He personally drove the refrigerated container to K's garage.
Even though Night City's security was notoriously bad, no one dared ss with Li Pan's beat-up Emperor 620, plastered with junkyard paint.
Once K confird the delivery through surveillance, the second paynt of 242,500 was transferred smoothly.
With cash in hand, Li Pan wasted no ti—he let the Emperor's smart navigation lead him straight to the PROSTHESIS Prosthetic Maintenance Center flagship store.
Yes. He had finally decided to internalize his implants and embed the Fuxi-15 directly into his brain.
He had realized external rigs were too much hassle.
Last ti, going to the hospital for a rescue mission, he went without the rig to hide his identity. The result? Without Eighteen's tech support, he got kidnapped and couldn't even call a cab—had to take the subway ho.
Sure, implants would be lost upon rollback. But even without rollback, fighting monsters ant constant risk of damage anyway.
And if the chip wasn't implanted, there was no way the system could follow him into the dream world.
Whether he was truly crossing over, or simply linking his consciousness to an avatar—
whether dream or reality—
Li Pan knew one thing: his awareness, thoughts, mory, and judgnt stayed consistent.
So as long as he remained "Li Pan," an embedded brain chip would function.
Because brain-insert chips, though most people just used them for porn, surfing, and gas, were in essence crippled supercomputers—information storage, data analysis, logical computation—far beyond human limits. Embedded into the brain's lobes, linked directly with neurons, they were not just implants but part of the body itself.
If Li Pan's guess was right, once embedded he could load an electronic dictionary into the chip and carry it into the other world… to cheat his way through cultivation.
The flagship store was far more professional than shady street shops. They could re-implant chips legally and safely.
Of course, opening the skull just for one chip was expensive—but if you spent on other upgrades, surgery was waived.
Conveniently, his antibacterial synthetic skin had been torn and patched too many tis. So Li Pan upgraded: a set of lightweight ceramic armor, Level 5 bulletproof, modular and replaceable—like wearing dieval plate armor.
Though cheap compared to full suits (mass-produced for the military), regular people couldn't even move in it. Martian rcs and outer-colony vets needed entire support systems—reinforced lungs, blood pumps, tendons, ankles, rotors, even microgenerators and exoskeletons—turning them into small-scale SBS suits, costing millions.
But Li Pan? He was a freak of nature. Strong enough to wear Night City's local military-grade ceramic armor like casual clothing.
He grinned: "Sniper rounds won't scratch now—outside I've got armor, inside I've got qi."
Next ca frontal lobe augntation implants.
Smart-assist chips were one type, usually in the temporal lobe, boosting mory and logic. Other implants touched every part of the brain: spinal accelerators in the insula, smart optic eyes in the occipital lobe, central control in the frontal lobe, QVN chips in the parietal lobe.
No wonder everyone went insane.
This ti, besides embedding Fuxi-15 and the ICE drive, he bought a Genolution Frontal Core Augntation (FCA)—a Level 4 implant.
GEN (Genolution Group) targeted starship navigators, while HT ChaosTech targeted hackers.
The FCA was a full package: bio-monitors, neuron stabilizers, nanite injectors. It uploaded brainwave data for remote dical care, and could pump in nanobots or stimulants to stabilize the frontal lobe.
During long interstellar campaigns, FCA plus stimulants let navigators stay sharp for weeks without sleep—vital in war.
Sure, overuse fried the brain. But better "brain-damaged" than brain-dead.
Li Pan's unit was outdated, costing ~120k, with expensive nanite refills. But Level 4 was still cost-effective.
For him, it was perfect: his main weakness was collapsing when qi ran out. With FCA, he could hold on for a day or two—long enough to recover or rollback.
So:
Armor cost: 112,000
FCA: 125,888
Plus Martin's repair and fuel fees, plus the ancient-Chinese dictionary download (over a thousand!)
A voice chid:
"Welco to ChaosTech support. I am your smart assist, Fuxi. Linking to Public Security System.
Citizen Li Pan. Cash balance: 2,603.32.
Outstanding loan: 8,291.43.
Total debt: 30XXXX.XX.
Next repaynt due on the 15th. ntal deviation assessnt expiring—please consult a licensed ntal health specialist and upload certification. Thank you."
"Shit, almost forgot the psych test."
He called Under the Oak ntal Health Consulting. Quoted 500.
They refused.
"Pretty boy! Price hike! 5,000, cash only!"
Li Pan: "What the hell kind of extortion is this?!"
They sent two deviation reports:
Yellow-red-blue pattern
Red-yellow-red pattern
"Look! Two breakthroughs past critical. Used to charge 500. But five breakthroughs? Off the charts! Go see a doctor, man!"
"You're not even a doctor?! Where's your license? 1,000. Credit."
"Hey! I care about your health! And you haggle with ?! Fine—3,000, cash!"
"…Okay, okay. For Orange's sake—2,500. Who'll help her find her son if I die?"
"Orange? Not my problem! Fine, 2,500. But go see a doctor!"
At last he got a clean blue report. His wallet: 100 left.
"Am I cursed?!"
No matter—just grind monsters. NCPA calls were nonstop.
His Emperor's AI linked to NCPA alerts, drifting to each site. Li Pan leapt out, ceramic armor clattering, fists flying, mowing down thugs into bloody paste.
Most paid only 200 each, but nobody else hunted low-level scum. He swept ten sites in one night, a hundred enemies, until every gang whispered about a cyber-psycho rampaging through Night City. Even the NCPA alarms went silent. The city enjoyed its first quiet night in years.
After tax and fuel, his account rose to 17,103.32.
"See? Work hard and the money cos."
Satisfied, he ditated in his car.
Money well spent: with the implants, he could now lucid-dream into Shangzhen Temple, watching "Li Qingyun" from a third-person view—studying, ditating, cultivating. The smart assist acted as a cheat, recording classics, referencing texts, even recalling books read.
So Li Pan and Li Qingyun cultivated together—studying Taoist scriptures, strengthening body and mind.
In this world, cultivation had four realms:
Refining essence into qi
Refining qi into spirit
Refining spirit into void
Refining void into Dao
Li Pan in 0791 was still at "essence to qi," only thanks to the bride's forced infusion.
But Li Qingyun in the Immortal Realm had already stepped into "qi to spirit," popping Minor Rejuvenation Pills like candy.
Their master Xian Tong was already at the final stage—"void into Dao"—having ascended with his mountain Da Yu into the Void Sea, where the main sect resided.
The Shangzhen Temple where Li Qingyun trained was only a satellite outpost, built atop a piece of black-tortoise bone.
Li Pan wondered: was this really just his dream? Or was ascension truly possible?
Then again—crossing worlds was real enough. Ye Clan's vampiric Earth and Takamagahara's Earth-0791 were parallel universes, connected by wormholes and the QVN Network. Catherine the Knight Commander could remote-control K's body from her world—just like remote gaming.
So why not other versions of Li Pan across countless worlds?
But for now, cultivation spells, arrays, and alchemy were useless to him. Too complex—mispronounce one chant and you blew yourself up. He had fists. That was enough.
So while Li Qingyun cultivated, Li Pan kept grinding daily missions.
The next day, Eighteen had bad news.
"Boss, Kotaro's missing again."
Li Pan: "Figures." Kid vanished so often it was routine. Kidnapped, infiltrating, whatever. Safer in prison.
"And I can't even find Goldshine Academy online—it's that secret? Forget him. Undercover work ans disappearing anyway. He'll crawl back in three days."
"Also, HQ is pressuring you to restore the Tech Division of 0791."
"Restore what? With no people?!"
"But… soone applied. HQ rejected them, but he's willing to be a temp."
"What? Soone's dumb enough to apply here? Lem see."
The resu read:
Yamazaki Rei (山崎绫人), Eurasian mixed-blood. Tall, handso, blue eyes, wheat-colored skin. Chemistry major, New Tokyo University. Star basketball captain, polyglot, hobbies: cooking and violin. Almost too perfect.
Originally slated to join Takamagahara, but family lost backing. So he aid to gain experience at TheM first.
Li Pan gawked: "What is this, so romance-drama protagonist?! HQ rejected this?!"
The note:
"Public Security Bureau Undercover."
"…Shit."
Li Pan called Legal.
"Technically, PSB inserting spies is illegal. But with special-case investigations, it's allowed. Legally takes ti. We recomnd… handling it privately."
"But I thought PSB coordination avoided cross-division overlap?"
"That's Economic Cris, Section 7. But based on your recent 0791 cases, Counterespionage (Section 4), Criminal (Section 5), and Cybercri (Section 9) all have reasons to plant soone."
"…Fuck."
"Our advice? Since they already sent him, hire him as a temp—then find a way to deal with him."
Head throbbing, Li Pan hesitated. Killing a PSB undercover would spark hell. But refusal wasn't an option.
So he forwarded Yamazaki Rei's na to Uncle Chen.
Chen replied with coordinates. Ti to talk.
.
.
.
⚠️ 30 CHAPTERS AHEAD — I'm Not a Cyberpsycho ⚠️
The system says: Kill.rcs obey. Corporates obey. Monsters obey.One man didn't.
🧠💀 "I'm not a cyberpsycho. I just think... differently."
💥 High-voltage cyberpunk. Urban warfare. AI paranoia.Read 30 chapters ahead, only on Patreon.
🔗 /DrManhattanEN
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