Why Aren't You a Beautiful Woman?

In a narrow, dim stairwell, Yang Hui swiftly cleared out several enemies. Just as he let down his guard, a drug trafficker suddenly sprang out, kicked him in the stomach, and raised a dagger in his hand.

Bang.

A gunshot rang out from behind him. The drug trafficker had just raised his dagger and only brought it halfway down when his head was blown apart.

Yang Hui turned around and saw An Yang lowering his assault rifle, a yellow Sniper Rifle slung across his back. "Whew... so it was you, An Yang. You scared me."

An Yang smiled at him. "Good thing I got here in time. Otherwise, you'd have injured at least one leg."

"Number Seven, Number Seven, are you alright? Thank God. Number Six is here too. You were the one who saved Number Seven just now, weren't you? Thank God, you came at just the right time."

Lieutenant Josen of the Red Beret Lightning Commando ran over to Yang Hui and An Yang.

An Yang gave a mysterious smile. This was no coincidence, and it had nothing to do with God.

"By the way, An Yang, where did you go just now? Xiaolong and I couldn't find you anywhere. We were worried sick."

"I found a sniper upstairs, so I went up and took him out. I also captured his Sniper Rifle. I figured that with a Sniper Rifle, I could contribute more from somewhere you couldn't see."

Only then did Yang Hui notice the Sniper Rifle on An Yang's back, surprise flashing in his eyes. "You were that sniper?"

Josen finally caught on as well. "No wonder drug traffickers kept getting shot dead for no reason. So it was you. Number Six, well done!"

An Yang merely smiled without saying anything. His goal was the Warrior Medal at the end.

Josen glanced at the M200 on his back and asked in confusion, "Number Six, what model is that rifle? I've never seen it before. It looks a bit like an M96, but it isn't."

An Yang's expression stiffened. It was 1999, and this rifle had not even been designed yet. Still, the M200 was indeed based on the Windrunner M96 Assault Rifle. It seemed he really could not easily fool these special forces soldiers.

"I don't know either. I picked it up from the drug traffickers. It handles pretty well and is highly accurate."

"Oh, I see. Are you a sniper? I don't really like sniper rifles. Assault rifles are much more satisfying!"

"I've received sniper training."

"Haha, during the Gulf War, snipers were what I feared most."

The live-combat mission concluded perfectly. With An Yang's involvement, even the minor leader in charge of selling drugs failed to escape. But it was of no use; the big boss would soon realize Hunter School was responsible, and the retaliation that was coming would still come.

It was also because of his outstanding performance in this mission that An Yang received praise from Crocodile Instructor once again.

By this point, the plot had changed considerably. Since the protagonist, Yang Hui, had not injured his leg, he lost many opportunities to spend time alone with the medic Lina. Naturally, he also had no chance to "continue training despite his injury."

Exactly two months after training began, the party was successfully held that evening.

October 1, 1999, was medic Lina's birthday, as well as China's fiftieth birthday—its National Day.

Only now did all the special forces soldiers learn that Lina was actually the daughter of Hunter School's principal—Major General Ross. Naturally, An Yang was the exception; he already knew the movie's plot by heart.

Major General Ross prepared a cake for Lina and an extra gift for An Yang, Yang Hui, and Hu Xiaolong—a video of the 1999 military parade.

This was An Yang's second time watching the 1999 military parade, but this time was destined to be different. Some emotion quietly swelled in his heart, and he felt an intense sense of pride.

He was not a soldier, but he was Chinese too.

While people across the country sat before their televisions, watching the magnificent military parade and experiencing the prosperity and strength of their homeland, few could have imagined that, in South America thousands of miles away, two special forces soldiers were undergoing trials of life and death.

Soon afterward, the next mission began, and this one was even more ridiculous.

Crocodile Instructor disguised himself as a terrorist and arranged for all the special forces soldiers to be captured and brutally tortured. He attempted to force them to reveal the identities of their commanding officers, testing the willpower of the special forces units from every country.

An Yang had replaced Lieutenant Michael of the Jaguar Airborne Field Commando, so there would be no scene where Number Six was attacked by a swamp crocodile and dropped his distress beacon. Nor would the drug traffickers have the chance to kidnap medic Lina when she came to provide medical assistance. They would not be able to fly Hunter School's helicopter over and nearly wipe out the unprepared special forces soldiers in one fell swoop.

Without all those coincidences, the so-called drug traffickers were merely a disorganized rabble, completely incapable of contending with the special forces units of various nations.

Because of the previous sniping incident, Crocodile Instructor simply brought in a Sniper Rifle and had An Yang serve as the sniper, responsible for eliminating terrorists from long range.

It was worth mentioning that An Yang was surprised to discover that although he had not deliberately tried to impress Lina, the way she looked at him was becoming increasingly strange. Sometimes, she would even come over to check on him.

The mission proceeded perfectly, though it was grueling. Three months later, the remaining trainees graduated successfully.

When everyone stood in a row for the graduation ceremony, dressed in crisp officer uniforms with epaulets and medals recording the honors they had once earned, Major General Ross spoke from above.

"Children, you have become qualified trainees of Hunter School. You will strive to safeguard humanity's peace and happiness. Here, I proudly announce that your national flags will remain at the school and continue to fly."

"According to tradition, our school will award the Warrior Medal to the most outstanding trainee. The recipient of this honor is the Chinese soldier, An Yang."

Enthusiastic applause erupted all around. Yang Hui and Hu Xiaolong looked at him with delight, their eyes filled with heartfelt blessings.

An Yang, however, looked apologetically at Wang Hui. With a snap, he gave a standard military salute and accepted the medal Crocodile Instructor presented to him.

Sorry, Wang Hui. I took the medal that originally belonged to you.

In truth, his performance was inferior to Wang Hui's in the original plot—far inferior, in fact. But because of his involvement, Wang Hui never had the chance to show his abilities and courage.

A woman in an officer's uniform approached from the distance, looking valiant and dashing as she held a bouquet of flowers. She was Lina, Hunter School's medic.

Handing the flowers to An Yang, Lina hesitated before saying, "Hey, An Yang, I really like you. You're very handsome. Can I kiss you?"

An Yang froze for a moment, then quickly nodded. "Of course."

The next instant, her warm lips pressed against his cheek before pulling away immediately.

Applause rose all around them. Of the dozens of trainees, only a few remained now, and every one of them wore a heartfelt smile.

The phone in the Portable Space vibrated.

That night, Hunter School arranged private rooms for the few remaining trainees. At last, they no longer had to sleep in those foul-smelling dormitories, though it was only for one night. Everyone would be leaving tomorrow.

An Yang lay on the bed, took out his phone, and glanced at it. Various data appeared on the screen at just the right moment.

Chosen One: An Yang

Physical Attributes:

Constitution: 2.2

Strength: 2.1

Speed: 2

Intelligence: 1

Unassigned Attribute Points: 1

Mastered Skills:

Mastery of Combat (Intermediate)

Firearms Mastery (Intermediate)

English Mastery (Beginner)

Instrument Mastery (Beginner)

Military Literacy Mastery (Beginner)

Unassigned Skill Points: 1

Item Abilities:

Portable Space (1 cubic meter)

Item Abilities Available to Draw: 1

"After three whole months of training, my Constitution only increased by 0.2 and my Strength by 0.1?"

An Yang was somewhat puzzled, but after thinking about it, he understood. It was probably because his own strength had already been quite high, so this sort of training did little to improve it. Instead, it tested factors such as endurance and stamina more.

"System, draw an item ability."

"Drawing... Draw complete. The Chosen One has obtained the item ability—Skill Stealing. It can randomly steal one skill from a designated person in a mission world. The world, person, and skill are all designated by the Chosen One."

An Yang's eyes lit up. If the next world was a cultivation world, wouldn't he be able to steal those immortals' godly powers capable of destroying heaven and earth?

But... using one of those powers even once would probably drain him dry.

What a pity. There were no remarkable people in this world at present. Otherwise, he could have stolen some expert's abilities. As things stood, he could only save it for later.

When he looked at his phone again, the item abilities section had already changed to—

Item Abilities:

Portable Space (1 cubic meter)

Skill Stealing (Unused)

A faint sound of footsteps came from outside. The door was suddenly pushed open, and two pairs of polished black tactical boots stepped in. Yang Hui and Hu Xiaolong entered his room almost at the same time.

"An Yang, why aren't you out at the party? What are you doing hiding here by yourself?"

"Yeah, you're the main character, after all."

"Heh, we're leaving soon. I'm a little reluctant to go."

An Yang said with a smile.

Yang Hui's expression stiffened, and even Hu Xiaolong, who was usually more cheerful, fell somewhat silent. Those words had struck straight at their hearts.

The three chatted for a while before Yang Hui and Hu Xiaolong left. Parties were some foreigner nonsense, and they were not used to them anyway.

An Yang pursed his lips. He was leaving tomorrow, and he really did feel a little reluctant.

Pain left the deepest marks on people, while discipline forged through iron and fire created an intense sense of belonging. Though it had only been three short months, these memories were undoubtedly profound.

With a sigh, An Yang lowered his head to look at his phone and asked the question that had troubled him for a long time.

"System, tell me, why are you a phone?"

"Because the Chosen One needed a phone, I appeared before you by taking advantage of that opportunity."

"What if I'd bought a computer instead?"

"Then I would be a computer."

"Then turn into a computer and let me see."

He had only been joking, but the system took him seriously.

A flash of light passed by, and the phone in his hand abruptly transformed into a silver laptop. Its craftsmanship was extraordinarily exquisite, and its entire body gave off a faint metallic sheen. The screen was actually completely transparent, like a sheet of glass, yet it possessed the same intense sense of technology.

An Yang suddenly understood. This Time-Space Travel Phone was not actually a phone. It had merely entered his life in the form of a phone. If necessary, it could become anything else at all.

"Actually, what I need most is a girlfriend. Why don't you turn into a beautiful woman?"

"..."

"What if I'd bought an inflatable doll back then?"

"..."

A glimmer flashed across the laptop in his hands, and it transformed back into that black glass phone. Its screen had already gone dark.

Bored out of his mind, An Yang continued:

"If you're going to turn into a phone, then just be a phone. Why make yourself so advanced? You're so advanced that I don't even know how to use you, and I don't dare take you outside for fear someone will recognize you. What kind of situation is that?"

"I searched the internet for all kinds of information and concluded that this exterior design best matches the aesthetic preferences of modern Earth humans."

An Yang curled his lip, utterly dismissive.