Chapter 12 | The Unexpected Price

Back home that evening, Li Xing had barely put down his tools when his wrists ached terribly.

It wasn't ordinary fatigue; it was a deep, bone-chilling ache, as if every nerve fiber in his body was being stretched taut.

He shook his hand, trying to dispel the discomfort, but his fingers remained stiff, and his movements were clumsy.

His mother, preparing dinner, noticed his pale face and frowned deeply.

"Xingzi, what's wrong? Your hands are so sore?"

Li Xing shook his head. "Nothing, just tired."

But he knew in his heart that this wasn't just fatigue.

Yesterday afternoon's high-level skill replication had overworked his brain and nervous system.

Adding to that, several hours of continuous work yesterday had begun to send warning signals from his body.

He sat on the edge of the kang (heated brick bed), rubbing his fingers, his eyelids growing heavy.

In his mind, the spatial notification appeared unusually clear:

[Warning: Overuse of Skill Copying]

[Significant Mental Energy Consumption]

[Short-term Side Effects: Stiff hands, slow reaction time, mental tension]

Li Xing swallowed hard.

This was the first time he had clearly felt the true cost of copying a skill.

That evening, he tried to recall the process of repairing the car that day, but his movements were clumsy.

The screws seemed heavy in his hands, he couldn't remember the chain adjustment force, and the brakes were unresponsive.

He suddenly remembered the trembling hands and mistakes he made on the first day when his skill faded, and a chill ran through him.

His mother brought in the food and saw him leaning against the edge of the kang (a heated brick bed), his hand pressing his wrist.

"Xingzi, what's wrong with you?"

Li Xing shook his head, only taking a bite of rice, the grains chewing with unusual heaviness.

His father watched silently beside him, a warning in his eyes.

"This child… don't push yourself so hard."

Li Xing said softly, "It's nothing, just… my hands are tired."

But he knew that was only on the surface. His spirit was slowly fading.

Lying on the kang (heated brick bed) that night, his hands were still numb, but his mind was unusually clear.

For the first time, he felt the limits of his abilities—a tangible reality.

The space wasn't omnipotent; every use of the skills it granted came with a hidden price.

Li Xing closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

He silently made a resolution:

From tomorrow on, he must use the space cautiously.

No more impulsive attempts, but strategy and planning.

Otherwise, the next price might not just be the numbness in his wrists.

Perhaps his entire body would pay a far heavier price.