Choosing "Bloodlust" wasn't a whim—it was the result of careful deliberation.
After all, perk points were even rarer than attribute points.
No way was he going to waste one on some generic-sounding ability.
If he already had a Sandevistan installed, he would've gone for "Still Water, Thunderous Blade"—a perk that massively amplified melee damage during time dilation.
Too bad he didn't have the speedware yet.
As for "Eyes of the Hawk, Sight of the Flame," it was nice in theory—boosting dynamic visual tracking—but with his current Reflex stat, it was overkill. He wasn't exactly struggling to track enemies.
The Cool tree, on the other hand, was a mixed bag.
Perks like "Peak Rat, Apex Survivor" were pure chaos. A random item drop when in danger? Not his thing. Lin Mo didn't roll dice with his life.
Thankfully, there was one solid choice left:
Bloodlust.
If he remembered right, this perk existed in the game too—and was considered a must-pick. Some of the strongest Cool perks required it as a prerequisite.
After weighing his options, it was clearly the most valuable.
He activated it, spending his precious perk point.
The icon lit up—confirmed.
Though… no immediate change.
Lin Mo didn't feel stronger or faster. No adrenaline surge, no stat boost he could sense.
The only real effect came from the single attribute point he'd added to Cool earlier.
He could feel it—like his emotional volatility had been smoothed out.
The excitement of the simulator reward faded as fast as it came.
Now, his inner world felt calm and still—like the surface of a lake untouched by wind.
"If I remember right, Cool is the best survivability stat in the game… Two of the top defensive perks are in that tree."
Ever since he'd hit Reflex 10—the theoretical human limit—Lin Mo had become increasingly aware of how monstrous stat increases truly were.
According to the Cyberpunk 2077 lore, attributes didn't scale linearly—they increased exponentially.
If he ever reached Cool 20, his mental resilience and willpower would be the stuff of legends. At that point, enduring battlefield surgery without anesthetics would be a joke. Hell, even pulling a Guan Yu—scraping poison off his own bones—wouldn't make him blink.
Tech 20? He'd be building power armor in a cave like Iron Man.
"…Not that the simulator's gonna hand me stat points forever," he muttered. "Who knows where the cap is."
With a sigh, he let the thought go.
Outside, twilight had slipped into darkness. The city came alive again.
Holograms, neon, floodlights—Night City lit up like a circuit board. It pulsed with endless energy.
Standing by the window of his hilltop estate, Lin Mo looked out over the glowing chaos below.
He'd seen this view a thousand times. Still—every time—some small part of him was awed.
Where there is dazzling light, there must be deep shadow.
That's how this city worked—how it always had.
By any measure, his current life was what most people could only dream of.
And yet… sometimes, he still woke up from nightmares. Covered in sweat.
When that happened, Xu Wanxue—who used to sleep beside him—would gently rub his head and ask if he'd had another bad dream.
She thought he was still traumatized from his time on the streets of Jig-Jig Street.
But she didn't know—
He wasn't afraid of the past.
He was afraid of losing the present.
That all of this—this luxury, this peace—might shatter like a soap bubble.
Not even Xu Wanxue's rise to Vice President of QianTi Corporation's Night City Division could ease that fear.
Because in this world, true power belonged to the old beasts perched atop the global pyramid—and the dynasties behind them.
Xu Wanxue had risen fast. Too fast. No backing. No faction.
All it took was one offhand comment from higher up, and she'd be out on the curb.
That's why Lin Mo had to grow stronger.
He needed more attribute points—fast.
"Time to prep for tomorrow's mission…"
The simulator's vague narration annoyed him the most.
It gave him poetic fluff—but glossed over the real details.
He knew Okako would give him a gig tomorrow.
But what kind? What enemies? What conditions? No clue.
Back in his room, he opened a hidden compartment in his wardrobe and took out his gear.
First: his Wolf School bulletproof jacket. Then, his Black Unicorn katana. A few combat meds.
For guns, he packed light: a Kang Tao A-22B "Super", a G-58 "Dian", and a handful of mags.
In Night City, firearms fell into three types: Kinetic, Tech, and Smart.
Kinetic was old-school—gunpowder, lead, recoil.
Tech used electromagnetic acceleration to fire solid slugs. Pure damage. All-metal ammo. No powder.
Smart weapons? They lived by one rule:
You pull the trigger—Kang Tao does the rest.
As the world's top smart gun manufacturer, Kang Tao's weapons were absurdly advanced.
Can't aim? No problem—auto-lock.
Even if you held the gun sideways like a meme-lord, the bullets would still hit.
Too lazy to reload? Just push the mag near the slot—auto-feed engages.
Manual cycling? Please. Smart guns don't need your cosplay nonsense.
They linked directly to your neural processor via your cyberware.
Just look at the target.
Pull the trigger.
The gun does the rest.
Lin Mo's neural link was one of the few implants he'd had installed so far.
With that kind of synergy, smart guns were the best on the market.
Their only downsides? Expensive. And a bit weak.
Bullets that could curve didn't hit as hard as slugs or tech rounds.
That's why most mercs didn't use them.
They were pricey. Fragile. Maintenance-heavy.
One mission, and your payout might not even cover ammo costs.
Still… since tomorrow was his first real gig, Lin Mo packed the smart gun anyway—just in case.
Once the gear was sorted, he dropped onto his massive bed and called it a night.
Ever since he'd entered middle school, Xu Wanxue had finally stopped insisting they sleep together.
Now, he had his own room.
Which meant privacy. And the freedom to do… well, private things.
On his bed, alongside the usual bedding, lay his trusty Troll Baby Plushie.
A gift from the beginner's pack.
Years later, and Lin Mo still had no idea what it actually did.
The database simply said:
Troll Baby Plush: Restores your childlike innocence and joy.
After lots of testing, he'd discovered only one real use:
It helped him fall asleep. Instantly.
Possibly the most underwhelming item ever.
He sometimes suspected the devs had added it just to be cute.
There was also the Dragon Shadow blueprint, but his Tech stat wasn't high enough to craft it yet.
From the design, it looked like an ornate ancient Huaguo broadsword.
Another melee weapon—overlapping in function with his katana.
So, no rush.
As the smart lighting system detected his rest mode, the lights dimmed to a gentle glow.
"Good night, Night City."
...
Wait.
Didn't he buy a black market braindance from David earlier?
Lin Mo shot upright like a dying patient regaining consciousness.
But after a second of thought, he lay back down.
"Screw it. Got stuff to do tomorrow. I'll watch it later."
P.S. (Bonus): If you ignore gameplay balance, the best melee weapons in Cyberpunk are typically poison blades and katanas.
Stuff like pipes, crowbars, and novelty toys? Forget it—they wouldn't even break skin in a real cyber-enhanced fight.
Why are katanas so iconic?
Simple—Kendachi, a fictional Japanese megacorp in the lore, produces the world's most famous monomolecular weapons.
That's why every edgerunner and their grandma carries one.
Also… hey. If you've read this far, consider dropping a follow or a comment 🫶
I'm grinding harder than a netrunner in cyberspace to bring this to you. 😤💾
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