"Fatty, if you don't lose weight soon, you will die."

When Clint was leaving the hospital with Dean, the old school doctor warned him sincerely and earnestly.

Neither of them could retort, there was no way to retort. Clint was indeed fat. Although he was 1.9 meters tall, he weighed more than 300 pounds. It was obvious he was a mountain of flesh.

Four days ago, Clint fainted in front of the door of the Imperial Palace. His heart stopped beating for an hour before he woke up. It was only after three days of unconsciousness.

Fatty's entire body was filled with illnesses such as high, coronary heart disease, severe fatty liver, slow swallowing, plantar fasciitis, and achilles tendinitis. This time around, the doctor's diagnosis was pulmonary embolism.

Clint and Dean were able to distinguish between good words and bad. Clint hastily thanked the doctor, and then, with Dean's support, he slowly left the school hospital.

He had no memory of how he was rescued or how he was sent back to the hospital. The only thing he remembered deeply was a stunning beauty opening her eyes to observe his pupils when he fainted, that was all.

"Let's go!" Dean accompanied Clint to walk around the campus slowly. "We haven't talked about you all these years, but Fatty, you really should lose some weight."

"Yes, I know, I'll start to lose weight." "Okay," Clint replied. He strolled around looking at the familiar campus scenery.

"Report the progress of thrombus removal." A thought silently flashed through Clint's mind.

"Thrombus Clearance Progress 0.73%, Continuously Clearing." In that instant, Clint's mind sent him an answer.

Everyone thought that Clint was suffering from heat shock due to being too fat. Only Clint himself knew that in the hour when his breathing and heartbeat stopped, 10,000 nanobot s and a control system had entered his body.

During the three days he was unconscious, countless unknown information came to Clint's mind. It was like a huge database, everything that Clint was interested in was included: machines, weapons, movies, games, etc. It was incredibly clear, yet also like a dream.

Not only that, but there were also some companies that he had never heard of and had never heard of before. When Clint woke up, it was like he had a memory of the future. Of course, it could also be a dream.

It was unknown whose life story it was, but there was no sign of Clint in his dreams. However, the world in his dream was wonderful. Clint didn't want to die so early, so he had to take a good look at it.

The nanobot in Clint's body was called MRIAM — — 2107 — — I type nanobot, shortened as I type nanobot. Of course, Clint was only a nanobot, he did not even mention the I type.

nanobot s were very small, and when they were closed, they were only a cube with a length and width of 0.15 microns. The average size of human cells ranged from 10 to 25 microns. These nanobots could easily enter human cells.

To Clint's knowledge, type 1 nanobot should belong to the category of medical robots.

Two hours ago, Clint gave the control system an order to clear the blood clots in his veins. The nanobot began working immediately and continued until now.

That control system's full name should be nanobot V1.38, and the version number made Clint speechless.

"Please increase nanobots as soon as possible to reach the upgrade condition of the control system." Just as he was retorting about the version number of the control system in his mind, he received a message in his mind.

The control system of the nanobot was already in Clint's neural system and had been integrated completely. In other words, Clint was the control system, and the control system was Clint. Whether it was scolding or questioning, they were targeting him.

The maximum number of nanobots that could be controlled by the control system was one million, but there were only ten thousand existing nanobots, which was a hundred times more than that.

This also resulted in little success no matter what Clint wanted to do. There were too few nanobots, so their speed could not be increased at all.

For example, the most important task was to clear out the thrombus. From the time he gave the order until now, only 0.73% of the thrombus had been cleared in two hours. At this rate, it would take 278 hours, 11 days and a half to completely clear out all the thrombus in the blood vessels. This was only if the thrombus in the blood vessel wasn't that large.

If the maximum number could be reached, it would take less than three hours. Other than the thrombus, he still had a lot of other medical supplies, not enough for 10,000 robots.

As far as weight loss is concerned, Type I robots can achieve the goal of weight loss.

In itself, nanobot relied on burning the fat in their body to obtain power. Under normal circumstances, a nanobot could consume 0.3 micrograms of fat a day.

However, Clint wanted the ten thousand nanobots to consume 150 catty of his fat, so it would take 25 million days, nearing 68500 years. To lose weight purely by relying on nanobot, this speed, was impossible in this lifetime.

It's so hard to lose weight, and you can imagine how much more difficult it will be to treat other diseases. As a result, increasing the nanobot became a top priority.

The good news was that the nanobot could replicate itself, and the bad news was that the material it needed to duplicate itself was a micron grade titanium powder. At least until now, Clint still had no clue, where could he find a micron grade titanium powder?

"What's the date today?" Clint asked Dean. After walking for only 200—300 meters, Clint was already panting a little.

"Number 3." Dean replied, as if he was afraid that Clint wouldn't remember clearly, and added, "Three years ago was today, the day the Milky Way ship was forced to break down on the high seas. Will this allow you to remember this moment of great danger more clearly? "

Clint became silent. Dean was a nationalist, but who amongst the students present was not a nationalist? Clint himself also gritted his teeth when he heard the name "Milky Way".

It was an insult that would make all Chinese grind their teeth in anger, and in that dream of the future, Clint saw a completely different story.

In his dream of the future, Clint saw a very interesting sentence: "We are fighting not to change the world, but to prevent the world from changing us."

It sounded philosophical, but now, Clint suddenly felt that it might be more interesting if he could change the world a little. After all, they had already experienced such a world in their dreams. What was the point of repeating it?

Clint didn't dare to say that he could change the world, but he could rely on what he knew in his dream to speed up some changes.