Starting to Gain Experience from Push-Ups Chapter 1185 - 575_2

The strange defensive properties it displayed are undeniably derived from that red parasitic entity.

This sight immediately brought to Fang Cheng’s mind the monster he encountered within the Bloodthorn Mercenary Corps—a creature resembling a towering mound of flesh.

As the Masked Guest had previously revealed, both he and that beast were utilized as experimental subjects when they infiltrated those ancient ruins, only to be exposed to a mysterious, unknown virus.

Originally a mundane mercenary, he underwent a harrowing mutation as a consequence of that infection.

Not only did he lose his grip on sanity, but his physical dimensions ballooned uncontrollably, his strength and durability surged to terrifying levels, and he developed a grotesque craving for human flesh.

It is entirely possible that a deep, intrinsic connection exists between these two entities.

Amidst the shadows of the room, Fang Cheng’s eyes glimmered, and a bold notion took root in his mind.

He pulled open his desk drawer and withdrew a pitch-black tactical dagger.

This blade, taken as a prize from some unfortunate soul, glinted with a freezing, lethal light, demonstrating its razor-sharp quality.

Without a moment’s hesitation, Fang Cheng gripped the weapon and drove the tip into the pad of his left index finger.

However, due to his immense Constitution attribute, the blade encountered his skin as if it were piercing thick, high-tension rubber.

The skin buckled and resisted the steel for several seconds.

Fang Cheng knitted his brows and applied significantly more pressure, finally rupturing the resilient surface.

Immediately, a bead of crimson blood welled up to the surface.

He positioned his bleeding finger over the clown mask resting on the desk and squeezed ever so slightly.

Drip.

The droplet descended with precision, landing exactly on the exaggerated painted red lips of the mask.

With bated breath and intense Concentration, Fang Cheng kept his gaze fixed, scanning for the slightest reaction.

In the blink of an eye, the mask underwent a violent transformation.

The moment his blood touched the surface, it reacted like water hitting a pot of boiling oil.

The entire clown mask erupted with an unsettling, vivid red luminescence.

The static red color seemed to gain sentience, writhing and churning in a frenzied state.

The red substance that had just been forced back into the mask surged outward once more, greedily swallowing the drop of blood in a single movement.

"Squeak! Squeak!"

A sharp, high-pitched noise resonated directly inside Fang Cheng’s brain, vibrating with unmistakable longing and agitation.

The red liquid upon the mask began to contort wildly, shifting into gruesome silhouettes—sometimes manifesting as savage claws, other times as jagged fangs.

It hissed and threatened Fang Cheng, clearly driven by an instinctual desire to pounce and tear him apart.

Yet, it dared not take the final step.

Fang Cheng’s body, radiating heat like a colossal furnace, represented both a fatal toxin and the ultimate feast for the creature.

Caught in this agonizing contradiction, the entity remained in a state of frenzied hesitation, unable to cross the threshold.

"Is this truly all you are capable of?"

Fang Cheng watched its display of impotent malice, his lips curling into a frigid, mocking smirk.

"Since you serve no purpose to me, I might as well eradicate you entirely!"

Before the sentence had even concluded, he struck with lethal speed.

An open-handed strike descended upon the mask like a phantom blade.

Crack!

With precise force, the mask shattered into countless fragments.

"Squeal——!"

The red parasite let out a piercing shriek of absolute terror.

It blasted outward from the broken remains, transforming into a streak of crimson light as it bolted toward the nearby Evil Ghost Mask.

It sought to repeat its strategy, desperate to secure a new vessel.

Fang Cheng’s eyes narrowed as he prepared to intercept it, but he halted his movements in the next instant.

Before his eyes, the white Evil Ghost Mask, resting silently on the table, began to exhibit strange anomalies.

The eye sockets of the mask, filled with dim garnet gems, suddenly flared with an eerie, rhythmic red glow.

The grin of the mask seemed to stretch further, widening toward the ear holes.

It felt as though a malevolent entity was rousing from a deep slumber, unleashing a torrent of violent, oppressive malice.

The red parasite, mid-flight toward its new target, appeared to sense a terminal catastrophe, emitting a scream that sounded almost like despair.

It jerked midair in a desperate attempt to veer away, abandoning all hope of possession in a frantic effort to escape the room filled with these monsters.

Alas, its efforts were in vain.

Without warning, the white Evil Ghost Mask levitated, darting across the room like a bolt of white lightning, effortlessly closing the distance and catching the crimson streak.

Instantly, countless diaphanous tendrils erupted from the reverse side of the mask.

Resembling thin yet incredibly durable tentacles, they whipped through the air, weaving themselves into a celestial net that ensnared the red parasite completely.

"Squeak! Squeak squeak!"

Trapped within the web of tendrils, the red parasite thrashed in agony, but its movements were useless.

The crystalline tendrils seemed to hum with life, tightening their grip and beginning to consume the essence of the creature with terrifying speed.

It was the primal law of the world in action—the brutal reality of predator and prey.

As the consumption progressed, the transparent tentacles were slowly dyed a vibrant, pulsing blood-red.

In mere seconds, the red parasite was completely absorbed, leaving behind no memory of its existence.

Once the feast was finished, the tendrils shed their crimson hue, reverting once again to their translucent, icy state.

Then, like wisps of melting silk, they retreated back into the depths of the mask as if they had never stirred in the first place.

Fang Cheng’s eyes flickered, taken aback by the sheer brutality of the display.

The Evil Ghost Mask, seemingly sated from its feeding, hovered in the air with a slight tremor.

As if sensing the whim of its master, it drifted toward him, suspended perfectly at eye level.

Fang Cheng raised a brow, deliberated for a brief second, then extended his palm to claim the object.

The sensation under his touch deviated from his previous experience.

It was no longer just cold and rigid; a rhythmic, pulse-like vibration thrummed through his hand.

Furthermore, an aura of absolute dominance seemed to radiate from the item.

Scanning it closely, he noted that the ghastly white surface of the mask had been entirely stained in a surreal, deep crimson.

The features appeared sharper and more defined, possessing harsh, fierce, and angular lines.

Within the eye sockets, those red glows pulsed steadily in the gloom, resembling embers from the pits of hell ready to ignite and incinerate all who gazed upon them.

The mouth, now curved into a wide, jagged leer, revealed rows of dense, needle-like teeth.

The mask had evolved from a simple inanimate object into a being pulsing with malevolent life.

It felt like a demonic artifact summoned from the Abyss, a relic intended to reign over all living things with its infinite malice.

Fang Cheng studied the scarlet visage in his grasp.

The red lights within the sockets throbbed in synchronization with a heartbeat.

A cold, hypnotic, and infinitely alluring voice whispered directly into his consciousness.

"Don it..."

"You shall inherit the absolute power to reduce all things to naught..."

"Your adversaries will wail and dissolve into ash beneath your shadow..."

"You will become the living avatar of terror, the sole envoy of the law of slaughter..."

Upon hearing these words, Fang Cheng’s expression remained entirely impassive.

With only a solitary moment of contemplation, he raised the ominous artifact and pressed it against his face.

An icy chill seeped through his skin as the mask molded perfectly to his contours.

However, as the ritual completed...

Boom!

A ferocious will, comparable to the eruption of a volcano that had slumbered for eons, flooded his mind.

A chaotic cascade of images assaulted his senses: mountains of rotting corpses, oceans of gore, agonizing screams, and maniacal laughter.

It was a mental deluge originating from the deepest reaches of the Nine Netherworlds, attempting to shatter his focus.

A primal, unadulterated yearning for slaughter began to fester in his soul, hungering to extinguish his rationality and bind him to the path of a mindless beast.

Yet...

Fang Cheng’s Spiritual World was not a realm that could be so easily breached by the darkness.

Deep within it, a vast island supported a Golden Palace, and suspended high above, a blinding sun radiated eternal warmth and brilliance.

This was his Martial Arts Will, tempered, refined, and hardened through endless trials.