Starting to Gain Experience from Push-Ups Chapter 1184 - 575

Darkness held the room in a heavy, silent grip.

Through the window, neon lights painted the interior in flickering silhouettes of red, dancing across Fang Cheng’s stoic features.

He remained motionless, seated in his chair like a statue carved from stone.

With a lowered gaze, he watched the bizarre anomaly writhing against his own skin.

His expression held no trace of terror or loathing, showing only a cold, almost clinical curiosity.

To him, this was not some nightmarish creature, but an amusing, manageable curiosity.

It appeared to lack a solid form, resembling a translucent, gelatinous organism that drifted between the states of matter and pure energy.

At this moment, it clung voraciously to him, squirming at high speed as it sought an opening to seep through the pores of his arm.

However, Fang Cheng’s musculature had been honed by countless grueling workouts, leaving his flesh as tough and resilient as industrial-grade rubber.

Acting on his subconscious command, his pores locked down like iron-clad valves.

The internal pressure generated by his immense True Qi ensured that no external intrusion could hope to breach his defenses.

Like a wave crashing into an impenetrable fortress, the crimson liquid struck repeatedly, only to be rebuffed with every attempt.

Frustrated by its failure to invade, the parasite’s agitation mounted.

It accelerated, slithering rapidly up his arm and neck, fixating on his face.

Eventually, it came to a rest directly beneath Fang Cheng’s nostrils.

This was the direct gateway to his brain—arguably his most vulnerable point.

Should it successfully infiltrate here, it could seize command of this devastatingly powerful vessel.

Fang Cheng observed the red substance as it coalesced at his nose, morphing and sharpening.

He could practically sense the overwhelming waves of greed and frenzied excitement radiating from the creature.

Ultimately, it lunged, transforming its leading edge into a sharp sliver that stabbed fiercely toward his nasal cavity.

As the red liquid reached the threshold, mere moments from grazing his skin, Fang Cheng’s eyes sharpened.

He inhaled, his chest rising and falling in rhythmic power, and a torrent of True Qi erupted from his Dantian, surging upward.

"Hoo—"

A concentrated, piercing blast of air exploded from his nostrils.

The sound was sudden and deafening, like a sonic boom echoing through the confines of his room.

The Pure Yang Qi, channeled through his mastery of Grandmaster Level Qigong, struck the parasitic entity like a pair of invisible, crushing hammers.

"Screeech—"

A high-pitched, soul-shaking shriek pierced Fang Cheng’s consciousness.

Like a vermin caught in the searing heat of a forge, the red mass was sent recoiling violently from his face.

It tumbled through the air in a series of frantic, visible jerks before collapsing in a heap onto the desk.

It writhed and spasmed upon the wooden surface, struggling as if mortally wounded.

The vibrant blood and Qi coursing through Fang Cheng acted like a roaring furnace.

For such sinister, spectral entities, his presence was an apocalyptic threat.

Being in his vicinity was akin to standing beneath a scorching sun; every moment spent near him was a torment of searing flames.

Clearly, the entity possessed a primitive consciousness, capable of feeling the bite of agony and terror.

Under Fang Cheng’s burning gaze, it dared not remain, transmuting at once into a streak of red light that fled desperately back into the surface of the clown mask.

As the glow bled away, the crimson liquid solidified back into the mask, making the surface look as though it had been coated in fresh, matte paint.

Silence reclaimed the room in an instant.

The unsettling ordeal seemed like nothing more than a fading nightmare caught on the edge of sleep.

Fang Cheng’s eyes flickered once; he reached out to retrieve the clown mask, which felt mundane once more.

The texture was cold and rigid, betraying no sign of its previous sentience.

Had he not witnessed the event with his own eyes, he would have dismissed it as a simple plastic prop.

Frowning, he began to recall his exchange with the Masked Guest atop the Silver Wing Building.

According to the guest, the mask was a mysterious relic pulled from an ancient civilization's ruin by military forces.

While attempting to flee, he had scavenged it from long-dead remains.

Fang Cheng distinctly remembered the moment he activated his Kirin Arm’s Charging Attack.

A single strike had shattered the man's Telekinesis Storm, yet a sudden flash of red light had deflected the worst of the impact.

That intervention had allowed the Masked Guest to narrowly evade instant death.

Reflecting on it now, that light had undoubtedly been this parasitic creature.

It possessed the capacity to shift between organic life and inorganic matter.

In times of calm, it lay dormant within the mask, perfectly disguised, showing no hint of its true nature.

Yet, when threatened, it unleashed its hidden power to bolster the mask with freakish durability.

Based on their brief encounter, Fang Cheng formed a clear conclusion.

The creature possessed an insatiable, overwhelming hunger for human blood and essence.

It was like an ancient, starving monster, driven by a primal instinct to consume everything that crossed its path.

How the Masked Guest had managed to bind such a volatile life form remained a mystery.

Had he used sheer force of will, orperhaps some form of dark symbiotic pact?

Lost in thought, he flipped the mask over and rapped it with his knuckles, producing a hollow, lifeless knock.

It seemed entirely pedestrian, indistinguishable from the common synthetic plastics of the modern era.