Chapter 36

Night deep, people still, all sounds hushed.

Chen Yi He closed the doors and windows, flopped onto the bed, then pulled out his iPhone 17 from his pocket, which was warm from being held; the screen still showed Gulnaza, the date still May 7.

"Siri, do you think I'll succeed?" Chen Yi He asked his iPhone 17.

This was the first time he had asked Siri; usually confident, after successive blows from peers' young masters that shook his worldview and spirit, he was no longer as certain as before that he would become a martial arts master.

"I don't know how to answer that. Is there anything else I can help you with?" Siri replied.

"Damn taro, it's already version 17 and still this fake!" Chen Yi He fumed, then thought, "What's the point of yelling at my phone? I just don't know if there'll be any use for it later."

He unlocked with saliva DNA, opened the album, and flipped through photos one by one: there were shots with the school belle, his internet cafe gaming logs, his covert pictures, and his favorite stars.

At the end lay a comatose Xiao Xiao Yu, him with his two brothers, and the scenic beauty of Tiger Mountain.

As he gazed, Chen Yi He felt his eye sockets grow moist; he simply tossed the phone aside and stopped looking.

Tonight Chen Yi He prepared to break through; he hadn't told his two companions because he was making a forced breakthrough decision—if he slipped, he would be annihilated, and he could not implicate anyone.

He sat cross-legged, hands resting on his knees, spine straight, eyes slowly closing.

He inhaled and exhaled, emptied his mind, and the macrocosmic and microcosmic orbits turned within his meridians.

Pinpoints of white light seeped from Chen Yi He's body through the skin, one by one, growing more numerous. They drifted in the room like fireflies, specks of rich white light, as he cultivated the "Withering and Flourishing Heart Sutra".

Then various images flashed in Chen Yi He's mind—martial arts manuals stored in his memory. Starting with the "Overlord Fist," then the "Mountains and Rivers Sword Art," followed by the "Cloud‑Repelling Palm," the "Huashan Sword Art," the Dragon King's "Dragon‑Slaying Saber Method," Ouyang Lie's "Blazing Wind Palm," even the "Hell‑Hand"… all were digested by Chen Yi He.

Chen Yi He cared nothing for the martial arts taboos among them, whether they shared attributes, or whether they could coexist.

They kept surging violently in Chen Yi He's mind, appearing over and over.

At this moment Chen Yi He's nerves were taut, sweat pouring, his whole body burning like fire, warm and scorching. A warm current rose from his spine, following bone and meridian up to the occiput and down to the foot pores… like nectar poured on the crown, sinking deep into the abdomen.

The warm current traveled from the occiput to the forehead's yintang, from the foot pores to both thighs, passing each acupoint, gradually gathering and drawing near each other.

Bit by bit, cautiously. Any leakage or deviation would kill Chen Yi He on the spot.

Every fraction, heart pounding with dread. This was the fiercest struggle; those who tread the blade's edge often get sliced by it.

The warm current was ultimately to gather at the chest.

Suddenly Chen Yi He felt a sharp pain! The ache from the occiput swept his body, in an instant like an electric shock, deafening and startling!

He lost control of the outside world, i. e., lost sensation, even though his thoughts remained clear. It felt like a sudden nightmare pressing down, or like having drowned long in seawater—no matter how he struggled, he could not open his eyes, nor could he swim to shore.

Then it felt as if a pair of slender hands tightly gripped his neck, those hands identical to his own. He gradually suffocated, unable to breathe.

From his depths came a sound, as if from a deep alley far to near: "My body, how can you hide a soul?" Demons, ghosts, or wandering spirits?

He lowered his head, gazing at his inner depths—was that a black hole?

Pitch‑black and endlessly extending… chaotic and bottomless… Chen Yi He felt he was about to fall—no, his feet had already sunk into the black hole, entwined by dense darkness!

That blackness, like volcanic lava, eroded Chen Yi He's body bit by bit—from his feet to his legs, then to his lower abdomen, slowly creeping up over his chest.

Chen Yi He wanted to call for help, but his body wouldn't obey any command! He could no longer tell whether he was in reality or inside his own body!

His mouth was dry.

Bean‑size sweat droplets were evaporated by his scalding body.

His ragged breathing beat with rhythm and force against his firm, upright chest.

If this continued, Chen Yi He would inevitably be burned to death by his own inner power!

He wished someone could stand before him now and slap him hard three times to wake him up!

"My body, how can you hide a soul?"

"My body, how can you hide a soul?"

"My body, how can you hide a soul?"

Bell after bell, the morning strike in the temple tore through the dawn's light.

Line after line, the flooding waters of Dong Hai roused the traveling wanderer.

"I… I… I am myself! Hide… hide… hide your mother's soul!"

……

At the same time, a sinister figure slipped from a dark corner, cloaked in moonlight, sneaking into the inn; he wore an oversized, long night‑garb, tip‑toeing, his steps barely making a sound, excess pant legs dragging on the ground.

He pointed at the room numbers, as if counting the guest rooms; when he reached three, his finger stopped.

At some point a pin‑holed cylinder appeared in his hand, just like the one Chen Yi He had once used to pierce the neighboring room; it pierced Chen Yi He's room. The thin window paper was punctured, and a wisp of mystic smoke drifted out from the cylinder.

At this moment Chen Yi He was struggling against his fate, having lost all sensation and control of the outside world; the mystic smoke quickly entered his body along with his true qi.

Now it was even worse for the already suffering, near‑exploding Chen Yi He—adding insult to injury!

After that outburst, Chen Yi He, relying on his stubborn will, overcame the inner voice and was about to open his eyes, the heat about to fade.

But he had inhaled the mystic smoke.

His body, which had been like a dying stove, was now ignited anew! It burned hotter and fiercer; his skin temperature neared that of boiling water, and specks of blood seeped from his pores. The black hole returned, and the voice calling 'soul' rose again.

Chen Yi He really wanted to curse in the street!!!

"What's going on? This is enough drug for ten people, yet it doesn't knock out a kid?" the figure pondered, seeing by moonlight Chen Yi He sitting upright on the bed, spine straight, solemn and dignified. The light was faint, so he couldn't make out Chen Yi He's expression.

He tore a strip of cloth from his clothing, covered his face and nose, then gently pushed the door open—"hiss…"

Chen Yi He sat stock‑still, like a Buddha in meditation.

As soon as the figure entered the room, he sensed the qi within—massive yet chaotic! He stepped softly toward Chen Yi He, saw his strange appearance, and immediately realized, "Truly heaven helps me; I've wasted my superb bewitching incense!"

It was actually a woman!

A devilishly hot figure, long legs, proud bust, captivating gaze, curved willow brows, long lashes faintly trembling.

Her bewitching body is desired by all, her soft voice stirs the heart; though not the most beautiful or youngest woman, she is full of tenderness, yet she ensnares souls.

She rolled up her wide pant legs, revealing a flawless white thigh beneath her canary‑yellow shorts; she had stripped off most of the night‑garb's trousers, for wearing it was too cumbersome.

She was a cat‑woman! She extended her palms; ten sharp nails broke the skin at her fingertips, revealing jet‑black cat claws! She aimed them at Chen Yi He's head.

To die beneath a peony blossom, even as a ghost one remains debonair.

It's a pity that this Chen Yi He can't even become a ghost!

"Hehe, this old lady still wanted to seduce, looks like I don't need to go through all this trouble!"