r18novel Chapter 29 Test
Chapter 29 Test
What can you do in three days?
Cheng Song squatted in the drafty corner of the ancient temple, munching on half a hard biscuit he had "borrowed" from a kind fellow villager, while making a list in his mind.
"Day 1," he swallowed the dry, choking crumbs, "adapting to the new power, studying the virus user manual."
He closed his eyes, sensing the "black ocean" within his body. The awakened Blacklight virus was like a roommate who had just woken up but was very grumpy—quiet, yet with an extremely strong presence. He could clearly perceive the flow of every bit of power, as if he had gained an extra set of invisible limbs. The distant howling of the wind through the ruins, the rustling of insects crawling under the rubble, even the subtle sound of his own blood flowing, all flooded into his senses in an excessively bright way.
"Improved hearing, great. Enhanced sense of smell...tsk." Cheng Song wrinkled his nose; the stench of decay, dust, sweat, and excrement wafting from the distant camp was too clear. "A sensitive nose isn't necessarily a good thing."
He sat up cross-legged, sunlight streaming in through the dilapidated window and illuminating his outstretched palm. In his palm, a thin, dark red thread of energy moved slowly—the undigested remnants of pollution he had absorbed from the old man.
"So, we're officially back to living together now," Cheng Song muttered to himself, "Let's make three rules: First, no eating random things; second, sort your waste; third, follow instructions at work, and you'll only get a meal allowance if you work overtime."
He focused his mind, trying to guide the virus. At first, it just writhed lazily, but as Cheng Song repeatedly tried and adjusted his mental frequency, like coaxing a wary wildcat, it finally began to slowly and reluctantly follow the path he had set.
"That's right," Cheng Song said, sweat beading on his forehead but his eyes shining. "We're now following a sustainable approach to pollution, emphasizing a steady, long-term, and ecological cycle. We're striving for zero emissions... at least not emissions into the precious memory in my brain."
He began to try more complex operations: splitting the energy into two streams and making them run in parallel; trying to build a temporary, tiny "energy buffer"; and even trying to simulate an extremely weak, relatively "pure" willpower to see the difference in the Blacklight virus's reaction to it and to "contamination".
The process was akin to waltzing on the tip of a needle while simultaneously memorizing pi. The mental burden was immense, with fragments of memories not belonging to him flashing through his mind from time to time—a believer's dying thoughts of his family, another a pure, fervent yearning for a heavenly world. These fragments, like annoying pop-up ads, consumed his attention.
"Block, blacklist, clear cache..." Cheng Song wiped the blood seeping from his nose while building a "firewall" in his mind. "The 'calm and tranquil' method from the Taiping Qingling book, combined with cognitive dissociation in modern psychology... might work?"
"Assuming the pollution force is a data packet, the Blacklight virus is an antivirus software and transcoder... and my will is a firewall and a task manager... then the side effects of the digestion process are the CPU and memory used during transcoding, and... the residual temporary files?" He looked at the scribbled diagram on the ground and sighed, "If this paper can be published, the editorial department will have to give me a certificate of mental illness first."
The next day, combining theory with practice, Cheng Song decided to push himself to a higher level.
He carefully separated coarser polluted energy from his body, simulating a more complex scenario of devouring and digesting. The pain arrived as expected, the noise in his mind escalated from background white noise to a commotion in the market, and subtle, uncontrollable, abnormal wriggling began to appear under the skin of his right arm.
"Hiss... This is called a stress test, you know?" He grinned at his rebellious arm. "Sweat more now, and you'll go crazy less on the battlefield."
He repeatedly tried to use the "guiding" and "dispelling evil" techniques recorded in the Taiping Qingling Book, combined with his own will, to build a temporary mental firewall. The effect was inconsistent, and several times the polluted energy almost caused him to lose control and rebound, causing him so much pain that he nearly shattered his back teeth.
But he also figured out some tricks. For example, maintaining a detached "observer" mindset while devouring something can effectively reduce mental pollution. For example, quantifying the pain itself as a signal that needs to be processed rather than unbearable torment. And for example, repeatedly testing the limits seems to slowly increase the virus's tolerance and digestive efficiency towards these junk foods.
"Adaptive evolution, or am I using it more and more correctly?" Cheng Song leaned against the wall, panting, wiping away the blood from his nose. "Never mind, as long as it works."
At that moment, Cheng Song was attempting to guide a wisp of barely purified, extremely gentle energy of his will to his fingertips—a crucial step in his future plans. Suddenly, a piercing alarm sounded from the lens—a chaotic, violent wave of pollution was hurtling towards the ancient temple at incredible speed!
"What's going on? The Boss's designated safe zone is also spawning monsters at fixed locations?" Cheng Song sprang up instantly, concealing all his aura, and flashed behind a toppled pillar.
The dilapidated door was violently kicked open. A figure staggered in.
It was a man dressed in tattered yellow turban uniform, but he was no longer recognizable as human. His exposed skin was covered with bluish-black, writhing lines, his eyes were bloodshot and unfocused, drool dripped from the corners of his mouth, and he made wild, guttural noises. The energy fluctuations around him were extremely unstable, sometimes violent, sometimes weak, clearly on the verge of complete collapse.
"A poor guy with severe pollution spiraling out of control?" Cheng Song judged instantly. "Judging by the intensity of this fluctuation... hmm, perfect for practicing."
The out-of-control believer seemed to be attracted by some kind of aura on Cheng Song, or perhaps it was the residual pollution that had not yet been digested. With a low growl, he waved his twisted, swollen hands covered with hardened keratin and pounced over!
"Alright, sparring partner, come to my door." Instead of retreating, Cheng Song advanced, dodging the opponent's chaotic attack. His right hand, fingers pointing like a knife, did not use the power of absorption, but instead maximized his body control, delivering a precise hand chop to the side of the opponent's neck.
"Bang!" The blow felt like striking old tree bark. The believer swayed, but instead of falling, he turned and grabbed even more ferociously!
"So tough? Fine, increase the intensity." Cheng Song's eyes narrowed, and he no longer held back. He stopped simply dodging and instead took the initiative to meet the attack head-on. During a gap in the opponent's attack, his right hand shot out like lightning, his five fingers slightly spread, and gently placed on the area with the densest contamination lines on the opponent's left arm.
With a thought, a subtle suction force emanated from his palm. It wasn't a violent plunder, but a delicate "peeling." A wisp of dark red energy mixed with black energy was forcibly "pulled" from the believer's arm and flowed into Cheng Song's body along his arm!
"Ugh!" The believer let out a painful roar, his left arm visibly atrophied slightly, and his movements became a little slower.
Cheng Song himself was also suffering. The fresh and violent polluted energy surged in, like a gulp of strong, cheap liquor. His mind went blank, and countless fragments filled with violence and pain exploded instantly! Shattered images flashed before his eyes: a bloody battlefield, the screams of his comrades, and hysterical cries for Huang Tian…
"Firewall! Activate!" Cheng Song gritted his teeth and forcibly visualized the ancient temple meditation room, directing the tsunami-like mental impact towards the temporarily constructed buffer zone.
Meanwhile, he kept moving, continuing to engage the believer. Although his opponent was strong and fast, he was mentally confused and attacked purely on instinct. Cheng Song used his superior agility and the complex terrain within the ancient temple to constantly move around, probe, and look for an opportunity.
Cheng Song seized the opportunity when his opponent staggered and attacked again, this time targeting a swollen contaminated spot on his chest.
A massive influx of energy! The pain doubled! Cheng Song felt as if his brain was being roasted into a pig brain. Under the skin of his right arm, dark lines began to spread and writhe uncontrollably, accompanied by waves of tearing, throbbing pain.
"Guiding... Diversion!" Veins bulged on his forehead as he combined the Qi-guiding techniques recorded in the Taiping Qingling Book with his own exploratory ideas, forcibly directing some of the violent energy to several energy nodes in his body—relatively tough areas that he had repeatedly refined beforehand.
"Sizzle!" It felt like an electric current surged through his body; the intense pain caused Cheng Song to groan, blood trickling from the corner of his mouth. But some of the incoming contamination was indeed successfully diverted!
The believer, continuously drained of energy, became even more frenzied, but his movements also became noticeably sluggish and weak. The corrupted patterns on his body began to flicker erratically.
"Now!" A fierce glint flashed in Cheng Song's eyes. He stopped dodging and met the opponent's full-force claw head-on. His right hand didn't dodge or evade, but directly grabbed the opponent's wrist. His left hand pointed sharply at the opponent's brow—one of the most critical and vulnerable areas of the contamination!
"Devour! Maximum power!"
This time, it wasn't a delicate peeling, but a short, intense suction! Like a floodgate being opened!
"Agh—!" The believer let out a piercing scream, his whole body convulsing violently, the red light in his eyes rapidly dimming. A large amount of polluted energy mixed with chaotic will surged into Cheng Song's body like a burst dam!
Cheng Song felt as if he had been struck a heavy blow, spitting out a mouthful of dark red blood. His vision blurred, and it felt as if a thousand needles were piercing his brain. Countless broken screams, fanatical prayers, and desperate cries mingled together, almost overwhelming him. The lines on his arms swelled violently, as if they were about to burst through his skin!
But he gritted his teeth, maintaining the last shred of clarity, his genetic anchor operating at overload, suppressing, guiding, and diverting this raging torrent of energy.
The believer collapsed to the ground, the contaminated markings on his body rapidly fading, revealing his previously withered face. His eyes regained clarity for a moment, and he stared blankly in Cheng Song's direction. His lips moved as if he wanted to say something, but ultimately his head lolled to the side, and he completely lost consciousness—the contamination had been largely drained away, and he had temporarily escaped madness, but he had also fallen into a coma due to extreme weakness.
Cheng Song slid down to the floor, leaning against the wall, gasping for breath. Each breath carried the metallic taste of blood and the burning pain of his internal organs. He felt like his body was about to explode, and his mind was a chaotic mess.
"Ha...haha..." he chuckled softly, his voice hoarse. "Test complete...zero negative user feedback!"
He immediately sat cross-legged, focusing all his efforts on dealing with the raging energy within his body. Digesting, suppressing... it took a full half hour before the churning sensation within his body gradually subsided, and the noise in his mind slowly dissipated.
He opened his eyes, wiped the blood and cold sweat from his face, and his eyes were unusually bright.
"It works!" He carefully sensed the changes in his body. Although the process was excruciatingly painful, after this extra meal, the "digestive enzymes" of the Blacklight Virus that contaminated his willpower seemed to have been activated and strengthened slightly. The conversion efficiency had improved somewhat. More importantly, his practical control over the "devouring-digesting" process had made a qualitative leap.
He walked over to the unconscious believer and checked him over. The believer's vital signs were stable, but he was extremely weak. The traces of contamination on his body had faded considerably, and he was at least out of immediate danger.
"Consider yourself lucky; you've caught my path of sustainable development." Cheng Song pulled a dirty leather pouch from his waist. Inside, besides half a harder cake, was a small, dark-colored bone fragment engraved with twisted runes. It was cold to the touch and faintly emitted fluctuations of willpower. "Is this loot? Or a quest item?"
On the evening of the third day, Cheng Song was trying to guide a wisp of purified, relatively gentle willpower energy to his fingertips—a method he envisioned for stabilizing the state of others in the future—when his movements suddenly stopped.
That feeling of being watched is back.
He raised his head.
Zhang Jiao's phantom had appeared before the dilapidated palace gate, unnoticed. The afterglow of the setting sun pierced through his translucent body, falling onto the dust on the ground, casting no shadow. He silently gazed at Cheng Song, at the charcoal marks on the ground that resembled ghostly scribbles, and at the faint yet steady wisp of pale golden energy emanating from Cheng Song's fingertips.
Silence spread through the empty ancient temple, with only the mournful sound of the wind blowing through the broken windows.
After a long while, Zhang Jiao spoke, his voice dry and hoarse, like the grinding of sand:
Is it worth it?
Cheng Song lowered his hand, and the energy at his fingertips quietly dissipated. He patted the dust off his clothes, stood up, and stretched his neck, which had become stiff from sitting for so long.
"I say, Master Zhang," he grinned, his smile devoid of warmth, "your question is like asking me if the pancake I ate for lunch was worth a copper coin—the pancake's already been eaten, the coin's been spent, so can you spit it out?"
Zhang Jiao stared at him with bloodshot eyes, without a smile.
Cheng Song abandoned his nonchalant attitude and sighed, "To be honest, I don't know. I'm afraid of death, afraid of pain, and even more afraid of going crazy. Every time I 'digest' something, I feel like I'm not far from going insane."
He walked to the window and looked out at the desolate mountains and fields that were gradually sinking into twilight.
"But I know," his voice lowered, "that if I cower here out of fear of death, fear of going mad, watching helplessly as those people outside are corrupted, sacrificed, and turned into monsters they don't even recognize... or even, if given the chance in the future, I'll have to push them down that certain death path myself..."
He turned around and looked directly into Zhang Jiao's eyes, which were burdened with too much weight and were almost shattered.
"So, even if I miraculously survive this life, what difference does it make whether I'm dead or insane?" He paused, then asked, enunciating each word clearly, "Wasn't that what you thought when you first picked up that immortal book?"
Zhang Jiao's body swayed slightly.
The ancient temple was deathly silent. The last rays of the setting sun disappeared below the horizon, and darkness poured in from all directions. Zhang Jiao's phantom became increasingly blurred in the gloom, only his eyes remained, so red they seemed to be dripping blood.
"...At first..." His voice was as soft as a sigh, tinged with a fragile tremor that Cheng Song had never heard before, "...I just wanted to make them...not feel pain..."
"I saw...so many people suffering...crops withering...children crying from hunger...governments levying taxes...powerful families seizing land...they are in pain...their bodies ache...their hearts ache even more..."
"That book...it told me...there was a way...to stop their pain...to build a place where...everyone has food to eat...clothes to wear...and no one suffers anymore..."
The phantom trembled violently, almost collapsing. At this moment, the cold, resolute, and tragic shell of the "Great Teacher of Goodness" showed tiny cracks, revealing the underlying numbness that had been soaked in despair and pain for too long.
Cheng Song didn't speak, he just listened quietly.
After a long while, Zhang Jiao's figure regained its composure. But something else seemed to have settled in his eyes. He no longer looked at Cheng Song, but instead gazed at the deep night sky outside the palace.
"Tomorrow at midnight, thirty li south of Guangzong City, at the ancient altar." His voice regained its inhuman calm, but it was less hollow than before, and more complex and indescribable.
"I will perform the ritual one last time; that is the end I have chosen for myself."
He slowly turned his head, his gaze landing on Cheng Song for the last time.
"If you believe your path is right, then prove it to me in your own way."
As soon as the words were spoken, the phantom vanished like smoke, as if it had never existed. Only the heavy, suffocating sense of oppression remained in the air.
Cheng Song stood still, motionless.
The night wind blew in through the broken window, bringing with it a chill from afar and a faint, murky smell belonging to the refugee camp.
"The finish line..." Cheng Song murmured, repeating the word. He scoffed, "You talk about it like it's a tourist attraction."
But he knew that wasn't a tourist attraction.
It was the execution ground, the altar, the final stage Zhang Jiao had chosen for himself and for this madness. And what he received was an invitation to the center of that stage.
prove?
He had to prove, in Zhang Jiao's devastating final ritual, that his hastily put together, crude, and flawed theory was not only feasible but also meaningful.
"I'm under a lot of pressure..." Cheng Song scratched his head, feeling a little numb on his scalp.
He walked back to the corner, squatted down, and carefully looked at the charcoal mind maps drawn on the ground. He looked at them for a long time, then reached out and erased them all, bit by bit.
Dust and charcoal ash mixed together, creating a blurry mess.
He stood up and clapped his hands.
The path has been chosen, and the cake has been eaten.
He was destined to go to that stage and tell that desperate teacher, Da Liangxian, that perhaps there was another way.