Skipping stones like this is strangely addictive.

“Is cycling an aerobic exercise?”

Three lines of pixelated prompts scrolled briskly across his vision. While Chen Jue gasped for breath, he cast a glance at the attribute panel.

He noticed several changes in this panel, reminiscent of a MUD text game, that differed from before.

——————

Character: Chen Jue

Strength: 0.76+

Constitution: 0.89+

Spirit: 1.05+

Skill: [Stone Skipping Lv0 (11/100)+]

Available Free Attribute Points: 0.01↑

(Character Evaluation: An ordinary office worker, your body is in a severe sub-health state.)

——————

First, a conspicuous “+” sign had appeared beside each of the three main attributes and the skill bar. According to the panel’s hints, Chen Jue could allocate free attribute points.

The conversion rate for attributes was 1:1, while converting attributes to skill proficiency was 0.01:10.

He gleaned these rules by focusing his thoughts on the “+” symbol, which brought up the relevant prompts.

It was a simple system, much like adding points to a character in a mini-game.

But what consequences might follow after adding these free attribute points? Chen Jue couldn’t yet tell, and the panel offered no specifics.

Moreover, his basic attributes were extremely low—aside from Spirit, the other two barely reached one whole point.

“What standard does this panel use for its values?” he wondered. “Is it based on an average adult? Or perhaps an athlete’s data?”

Chen Jue worked in risk control data, reviewing countless client numbers daily, so he was acutely sensitive to values.

He didn’t rush to add points, but instead pondered and analyzed the underlying logic of the panel.

Furthermore, the Stone Skipping skill struck him as particularly odd.

To most people, stone skipping was just a leisurely pastime—something to amuse oneself, nothing of real significance.

Yet this panel had singled it out, formalizing it as a skill.

“What good is it to level up this useless skill? Even if I max it out, it’s still just stone skipping! What’s the point of adding points to it?” Chen Jue couldn’t make sense of it.

The very existence of this attribute panel in the real world was absurd enough.

Trying to analyze something so inherently absurd was like absurdity opening the door for absurdity—it was absurdity taken to the extreme.

“Forget it! No need to overthink!” he decided.

“Let’s just try adding points to the three attributes first!”

After a moment’s rest and adjusting his mindset, he focused his attention on the “+” next to Strength, Constitution, and Spirit.

“Which should I add to first?” Chen Jue hesitated.

It was his first time, with no experience—anyone would find it hard to choose.

If things played out like in the countless web novels, where a random point allocation might trigger a rebirth and days of unconsciousness, Chen Jue would certainly prefer to lie comfortably in his rental before trying anything.

He likened it to his work—when evaluating clients for loans, those with poor credit were usually rejected or asked for extra guarantees, higher interest rates, or simply referred to other companies to transfer and hedge risks.

Now, here he was in the unfamiliar Baima Lake Park, nowhere near a village or shop.

If something went wrong from reckless point allocation, there was no one to bail him out.

Moreover, he had just spent nearly half an hour cycling like a dying dog to earn a measly 0.01 free attribute point—the return was pitifully low.

After hesitating, he glanced once more at the “sub-health” evaluation.

His remaining rationality was drowned by impulse.

“Damn it! Nearly thirty, still so cautious—no wonder I’m stuck working for others!”

“I’ll pick Constitution. Add the point!”

Chen Jue slapped his sweat-stained cheek and boldly pushed forward, without a second thought.

The free attribute point reset to zero, and Constitution jumped from 0.89 to 0.90; the remaining “+” signs vanished.

Then a strange warmth surged from his chest through his body. His skin tingled faintly, but the park’s cool breeze swept it away almost instantly.

“That’s it?”

“No change at all!” Chen Jue couldn’t help but grumble.

But as he paid closer attention, he realized the soreness in his legs from cycling had eased somewhat.

It was subtle but definitely a bit faster than normal recovery.

He reasoned that the attribute gain was too small to make a noticeable difference.

“Well, it’s better than nothing!”

“As long as there are no obvious side effects,” he muttered, parking the shared bike and slipping into Baima Lake Park.

...

Night had fallen. The park was lit by scattered lamps.

Trees on both banks swayed in the wind, and in the distance stood an ancient-style bridge spanning the river, with lights revealing a few uniquely designed modern venues and a prominent tower across the water.

It was Friday night, and many families from Hangzhou had come to unwind; tents and canopies dotted the lawns everywhere.

Further off, there was even a concert-like stage, spotlights flashing, with unfamiliar singers performing gentle folk songs.

“A park music festival?”

He hadn’t expected the place to be so lively. Chen Jue strolled along the paved brick path.

He realized that in the two years since moving nearby, he’d been a bit too much of a homebody, missing out on such a wonderful natural environment.

In just over ten days, his company would be dissolved; who knew if he’d ever have the chance to wander here again.

“Time to get down to business!”

He shook off his sentimental mood, and with his phone in hand, started searching for stones along the riverside lawn.

Being an ecological wetland park, there were plenty of natural stones. After wandering the riverbank for more than ten minutes, he’d collected over twenty stones ideal for skipping.

To make things easier, he had emptied a compartment in his work satchel specifically for storing stones.

Finding a secluded corner, he set his bag down and took out a flat stone, weighing it in his hand.

Recalling his actions from earlier that afternoon atop the building’s rooftop garden, he swung his right arm and let the stone fly, sending it skittering across the river’s surface with several skips.

[Ding~]

[Action meets requirements]

[Stone Skipping skill proficiency +1]

Seeing the familiar prompt scrolling across the panel, Chen Jue smiled knowingly.

“Not bad!”

“It’s about the same as skipping stones in the pool, but the water here is wider—I don’t have to hold back.” He remembered how cautious he’d been on the rooftop earlier.

Though the rooftop was spacious, Chen Jue hadn’t dared use full force. If by accident he hurled a stone off the building, a twenty-eight story fall could hit a car or a person, and he couldn’t afford to bear the consequences.

But this wetland park was different. The widest part of the river stretched hundreds of meters—he could throw freely without worrying about hitting anyone.

After a few skips and a handful of proficiency points, Chen Jue grew bolder, adding a running start to his throws.

“Splat~”

Watching the stone bounce dozens of meters out, skipping over ten times, Chen Jue couldn’t help but grin.

So much fun!

A bit addictive!

One skip made him want to try again, to see if the next could go farther or yield more skips.

A man’s joy is often this simple and unadorned!

But to his surprise, the running start had triggered a change in the panel’s prompt.

[Ding~]

[Action meets requirements, accomplished an outstanding stone skip.]

[Stone Skipping skill proficiency +2]