Chapter 5: Golden Finger

The singing grew louder, as if right beside him, yet he could not locate its source; faced with this unknown situation, Cang Luo grew increasingly anxious.

The more Cang Luo panicked, the blurrier the satellite’s view became, the image gradually shrinking.

Eventually, the satellite’s view vanished completely, and Cang Luo found himself surrounded by utter darkness.

But just then, Cang Luo suddenly realized: “Damn, isn’t that singing just my phone’s alarm?”

No sooner had the words left his mouth than Cang Luo snapped his eyes open.

After opening his eyes, Cang Luo found himself in a room sparsely furnished yet undeniably luxurious.

All the furniture in the room was made of an unknown red wood, emitting a faint exotic fragrance that felt incredibly soothing, as if it sharpened the mind.

Perhaps because of this exotic scent, Cang Luo felt unusually alert, his entire body brimming with energy, and he could faintly sense an unusual substance in the air.

Could this substance be the Yuan Li that Sect Master Xuan Hong mentioned?

But how could he absorb it!?

For now, he set that question aside; the alarm kept ringing, so Cang Luo grabbed his phone and turned it off, checking the time—he was already on the second day since his transmigration.

He shook his head, tossed the phone aside, and had no time to ponder why his phone could connect to Earth—he had more urgent matters to handle.

Cang Luo was now certain he wasn’t dreaming; the surveillance satellite capable of firing laser cannons was his golden finger.

But how could there be a satellite on the Yuanwu Continent? Cang Luo couldn’t understand.

“Where is it? Where’s my golden finger? How do I summon it? Is there a system sprite or something?” Cang Luo tried every method but could not re-attach to the satellite.

“Hmm? Yesterday I attached to the satellite only after passing out—what if I close my eyes now?”

Thinking this, Cang Luo shut his eyes and frowned in deep thought.

After a few breaths, Cang Luo suddenly felt his head grow heavy.

The satellite’s view reappeared; Cang Luo was overjoyed—but only for half a minute, because he realized this golden finger didn’t seem very useful.

He couldn’t control the satellite to move over the Yuanwu Continent, so he couldn’t use its laser cannon; the cannon’s range seemed limited to only two hundred meters.

“No, even if I could move it, I couldn’t let the satellite appear over the Yuanwu Continent—that would expose my golden finger.”

Sighing, he thought: “A satellite that can’t fire lasers seems pretty useless—barely more than a surveillance device.”

“Hmm, useful for reconnaissance during battles, but practically useless for personal use.”

Cang Luo sighed, closed his eyes, crossed his arms, and pondered whether the satellite had any other uses.

Peeping at women bathing?

But that would require penetrating roofs—the satellite didn’t seem to have that function.

After ten minutes of silent contemplation, Cang Luo suddenly opened his eyes—and immediately felt a wave of dizziness, two images overlapping before him.

One was the satellite’s real-time footage; the other was what his own eyes saw.

Cang Luo leaned back against the bed and shook his head hard, trying to separate or stabilize the two images—but it had no effect.

Cang Luo gritted his teeth, enduring the dizziness, frowning and refusing to close his eyes.

Because he believed—if this ability could be used with his eyes open, its practicality would skyrocket.

For example, during pursuit, he could use it to scout ahead and avoid being followed by enemies.

Long moments passed, and Cang Luo felt something stirring in his mind—a threadlike object, impossibly thin, drifting aimlessly through his thoughts.

As he concentrated harder, the threadlike object grew more active.

Suddenly, the threadlike object seemed to pierce through some barrier.

It began to lengthen, traveling down his spine, winding through his meridians inside his body—the sensation was incredibly pleasant.

Eventually, one end of the threadlike object halted at Cang Luo’s lower abdomen, like a tadpole searching for an egg, seeking something.

“That spot—I remember it’s the Lower Dantian...” Cang Luo recalled the human acupoint diagrams he’d once studied.

The human body contains three dantians: the Upper Dantian between the eyebrows, the Middle Dantian to the right of the heart, and the Lower Dantian below the navel.

The three dantians are arranged vertically within the body in golden ratio proportions.

In Daoist cultivation texts, the term “dantian” always refers to the Lower Dantian—the reservoir of energy.

Thinking of this, Cang Luo was ecstatic.

“Could I have become a Martial Artist? But Sect Master Xuan Hong said it takes seven days after consuming the Zhi Yuan Dan to become one!”

As he pondered, the threadlike object, which had just stopped moving, stirred again.

No—he didn’t just feel it; he saw it. But this seeing was different from the satellite’s view—it was an internal observation.

In Daoist terms, this was called Neishi!

He saw the threadlike object enter the dantian and arrive at a space filled with faint milky-white mist.

The mist drifted aimlessly; at its center floated a milky-white, ring-shaped gaseous object resembling a lifebuoy.

Seeing this, Cang Luo recalled what Sect Master Xuan Hong had said.

Activate the dantian, condense the Yuan Wheel, become a Martial Artist, then absorb Yuan Li to learn techniques and cultivate.

Was the milky-white lifebuoy the Yuan Wheel? And the mist, Yuan Li?

And the threadlike object—was it Spirit Power?

Cang Luo was overwhelmed with excitement—he was certain he had become a Martial Artist!

“But why did the Zhi Yuan Dan’s effects accelerate by six days? Is it because I’m from Earth?”

As he wondered, the threadlike object drifted again, finally touching the Yuan Wheel.

Instantly, the Yuan Wheel began to rotate—faster and faster.

Like a switched-on engine, it spun wildly.

The threadlike object was the switch; the Yuan Wheel was the engine.

The wildly spinning Yuan Wheel dragged the surrounding Yuan Li into rotation, and Cang Luo felt he could now control these Yuan Li.

Sure enough, as soon as Cang Luo willed it, the Yuan Li began to flow along the threadlike object.

Instinctively, he guided them toward his head, hoping to alleviate the dizziness caused by keeping the satellite’s surveillance active with his eyes open.

The Yuan Li was scarce—barely enough to fill his brain.

The instant the Yuan Li reached his brain, Cang Luo felt instantly refreshed; the satellite camera’s footage stopped shaking and stabilized.

Now, Cang Luo could finally activate the satellite’s surveillance function with his eyes open.

The sensation was strange—hard to describe.

Unlike Google’s former smart glasses, which projected images directly onto the retina, this appeared directly in his mind.

Cang Luo slowly rotated the satellite, watching the sun burn in space, watching the Yuanwu Continent with its nine moons.

“Nine moons... let me see what’s on them.”

Saying this, Cang Luo directed the satellite toward the nearest moon and rapidly zoomed in.

“Strange—the moon is covered in white mist; I can’t see the surface at all.”

Cang Luo checked the other eight moons—all similarly shrouded in white mist, nothing visible.

As he gazed, Cang Luo grew tired; he noticed the threadlike object in his mind was gradually shortening and moving slower.

Cang Luo understood: activating the satellite’s surveillance consumed energy—exactly that threadlike object.

“This drain is severe—I’m already tired after less than half an hour. Can’t I just turn it off? When I first woke up, it wasn’t active, was it?”

Thinking this, Cang Luo snapped his eyes shut and mentally commanded: “Close.”

Sure enough, the satellite’s footage vanished instantly from his mind.

Cang Luo opened his eyes, delighted: “This satellite might unlock new functions as my cultivation improves—like flight. Then I could secretly use the laser cannon.”

With the satellite’s help, Cang Luo looked forward to his life on this alien world over the coming year, his spirits soaring, eager to share the news with his family.

“By the way—my phone can connect to Earth! Why not call or send WeChat? I’ve been gone a day—they must be frantic.”

He acted on impulse, unlocking his phone’s screen.

The moment the screen lit up, hundreds of WeChat, QQ, and text messages flooded in.

Then the phone vibrated, followed by a ringtone—a call from an “Unknown Number.”

“This phone is probably another golden finger.”

Looking at the incoming call, Cang Luo didn’t answer immediately; instead, he returned to the home screen and opened WeChat to check for messages from his family.

Cang Luo’s heart leapt—he saw a message from his sister, but the content clearly wasn’t written by her.

The latest message read: “Cang Luo, I’m Li Weiguo, head of the Huaxia Special Department Fenglin Huoshan. I need to confirm a few things with you.

One: Are you currently on Earth?

Two: If not on Earth, provide all information you can obtain—send it to your sister via WeChat.

Three: Do not trust anyone except me. Prioritize national security.

Reply immediately upon receipt...”

Cang Luo pondered: “Fenglin Huoshan? What department is that? I’ve never heard of it.”

But he could understand—what could a nobody like him possibly know?

He scrolled further; the next dozens of messages were identical—all sent via his family’s WeChat accounts.

“So my parents and sister are in their hands?”

A bad premonition struck Cang Luo; his face turned cold. He’d planned to call and verify.

But just then, a new text message popped up; Cang Luo tapped it open.

The message read: “Dear Mr. Cang Luo, hello, I am John Smith, director of the International Rescue Organization Eden.

I am deeply saddened by your plight. Eden is willing to provide you with all possible assistance—simply provide us with information about your current alien world, so we may rescue you.

Additionally, we have already transferred five million RMB to your usual bank account—a small token of our goodwill.

Finally, I must deliver bad news: your family has been detained by Huaxia’s Fenglin Huoshan—their situation is dire.”

However, we can help you rescue your family and immigrate to our free nation...

When Cang Luo saw the amount of five million RMB, his heart raced with joy.

Five million RMB is an astronomical sum for an ordinary family—someone could work their whole life and never earn that much.

But when he saw the words “family under house arrest,” his blood boiled, yet he quickly calmed himself.

He knew this was a scheme to sow discord—pretending to be international rescue, how hypocritical, what a damn Eden.

Still, though he cursed them aloud, his body was very pragmatic.

Cang Luo immediately began searching for bank transaction texts, scrolling for a long while, skipping dozens of messages, until he finally found the bank’s transaction alert.

What he saw nearly made him drop his phone.

There were over a dozen transaction alerts; the latest one read: “Your account ending in XXXX... balance: 22,888,655.47.”

Cang Luo stared in shock. “This... what’s going on? How could there be so much money?”

I’m rich! I didn’t even make it back to Earth yet, and I’ve become a millionaire!

At that moment, another text popped up. Cang Luo quickly opened it, and it read: “Respected Lord Cang, I am Yanagiba Yuichiro of the Izumo Society. We have heard you are trapped and unable to return to Earth.

But rest assured, the Izumo Society is willing to provide you with all assistance.

Please inform us of your current situation so we may prepare your rescue and bring you back to Earth.

We must also deliver bad news: according to our investigation, your family has been placed under house arrest by Huaxia, with all movement restricted—conditions are extremely grave...”

Family under house arrest—again, that phrase.

Cang Luo’s mood grew heavy, but not because he believed the claim about his family—he wouldn’t fall for their manipulation.

It was because his transmigration had been fully exposed; he had become a prized target, and every nation wanted to extract information about the other world from him.

Since they could not reach him in Yuanwu Continent, they chose to threaten him by targeting his family.

“Huh... I hope my homeland protects my family.” Cang Luo took a deep breath.

Then more bizarre texts kept arriving, each claiming to be from some organization.

The Holy Cross International Rescue Unit of a certain European nation.

The Royal Knights International Rescue Team of a self-proclaimed Empire on Which the Sun Never Sets.

And the Tsar’s Judgment Court International Rescue Department—the one with the largest territory, mocked by Huaxia netizens as the “Maozi”...

All these organizations Cang Luo had never heard of were clearly trying to extract information about the other world from him—but he ignored them.

Cang Luo had always been proud of being a descendant of Yan and Huang, and would never do anything harmful to his homeland.

He closed the texts and stared at the phone call labeled “Unknown Caller,” then firmly pressed the answer button.

Cang Luo had a feeling this call was from his homeland.