Starting to Gain Experience from Push-Ups Chapter 1190 - 578:

An endless line of vehicles stretched out like a sluggish, crippled dragon, coils of traffic choking the expressway that led into West Gate District.

Piercing midday sunlight flooded through the windshield, transforming the cabin into a stifling, sweltering oven.

Fang Cheng kept his hand steady on the wheel, his fingers tracing a rhythmic beat along to the smooth jazz emanating from the speakers.

Beyond the glass, the atmosphere was thick with the blaring of horns and the rising tide of frustrated outbursts.

Since it was the weekend, the inhabitants of East Capital were rushing out like birds suddenly freed from their cages.

Half the population seemed determined to crowd the scenic spots near West Mountain, while the other half surged toward Golden Beach in the east, turning the main thoroughfare into a paralyzed bottleneck.

Fang Cheng was currently headed toward his grandfather’s residence in Wanghu Town, situated deep within the West Gate District.

His days had fallen into a steady pattern; besides his unwavering, daily Cultivation and exercise regimen, he spent most of his time at the construction site, coordinating base development alongside Lin Chuqiao.

Occasionally, he would set aside time to share tea and conversation with new organizational recruits, a tactic meant to build rapport and cement his status as the supreme authority.

Even the floorboards of his living room, which had suffered from his intense physical training, had been professionally restored by a contractor.

Life felt as though it were gradually settling into a stable rhythm.

As for the unfortunate Fire Dragon, his tenacity remained truly remarkable.

Just yesterday, shortly after six in the morning, he had finally regained consciousness.

The black-market medic had immediately reported the positive outcome to the Professor, who in turn relayed it to Fang Cheng.

Fang Cheng had originally intended to visit the clandestine clinic at Jinshui Fish Market today to investigate, while simultaneously extracting bank account credentials from the Masked Guest.

However, an unexpected call from his grandfather changed his plans.

Over the phone, the old man tried to mask his affection with a stern tone, yet his underlying longing was impossible to ignore.

He mentioned that his uncle was cooking a special meal, preparing Fang Cheng’s favorite red-braised lion head meatballs and beef stew with potatoes.

He demanded that Fang Cheng return for dinner regardless of any work obligations, insisting that failing to do so would be a sign of disrespect.

Given that Fire Dragon had only just stabilized and was likely still in no condition for a coherent conversation, Fang Cheng decided that delaying the visit for a day or two would be acceptable, and he promptly agreed.

While he was lost in these thoughts, the traffic ahead ground to a complete standstill.

Fang Cheng rolled down his window, leaning out to scan the road ahead.

Roughly a hundred meters away, yellow and black barricades had been erected across the intersection.

Several olive-green military trucks sat heavy in the middle of the road, effectively sealing off the entire eight-lane span.

Heavily armed soldiers stood guard on both sides, meticulously inspecting every vehicle and driver that attempted to pass.

Fang Cheng’s eyes narrowed slightly as his mind began to calculate the risks.

Local news reports had been saturated with updates regarding the terrorist attack at the Silver Wing Building.

The military had declared a citywide lockdown, stating they were fully devoted to tracking down the terrorist instigator.

Evidently, this was no mere public relations stunt; they were executing their plan with ruthless efficiency.

The tactical positioning along the expressway, combined with their layered defense, screamed of a comprehensive, grid-style search.

Fang Cheng surveyed the checkpoint, observing that the tension in the air was as taut as the string of a drawn bow.

A dozen special forces soldiers, gripping their assault rifles, occupied various defensive positions, fingers resting lightly but ready against their trigger guards.

They scanned the occupants of every car with predatory intensity, ready to open fire at the slightest provocation.

Nearby, a communication officer urgently shouted for reinforcements over his radio.

The surrounding drivers, unnerved by the overwhelming military display, grew deathly silent, the previous complaints replaced by uneasy, hushed murmurs.

Settling back into his seat, Fang Cheng maintained a composed expression while his thoughts churned beneath the surface.

The "terrorist leader" they were hunting—the one responsible for the helicopter incident—was obviously him.

Had his identity been compromised?

That seemed highly unlikely.

Fang Cheng shook his head to dismiss the notion.

If the military had actually tracked his identity, they wouldn’t rely on simple traffic checkpoints.

Instead, they would likely have arrived with tanks and attack helicopters to surround his home.

It stood to reason that they were working with minimal, fragmented intelligence, hoping to catch a stray lead through a mass-search operation.

Perhaps a bystander had chanced upon a glimpse of him near the Silver Wing Building that night?

His brow furrowed slightly behind his calm façade as he observed the soldiers ahead.

Turning around now was not a viable option.

An abrupt, illegal U-turn in this dense traffic would be equivalent to declaring himself a threat to everyone present.

It would invite immediate aggression and unnecessarily risk the lives of innocent civilians.

Fang Cheng’s gaze shifted past the rooflines of the cars until it fixed on a green armored personnel carrier positioned behind the road blocks.

While the windows were protected by tinted, one-way film, this proved to be no obstacle for his abilities.

He narrowed his eyes, a subtle crimson shimmer flickering in the depths of his pupils.

His vision zoomed in, granting him supernatural magnification.

The dense alloy plating and bullet-resistant glass seemed to dissolve before his sight.

The interior of the cabin became perfectly visible.

"What is this?"

The words left his lips in a hushed tone.

Not only were there soldiers inside, but they had also trapped some manner of monster within the craft!

As he watched, a plan began to germinate in his mind.

He closed his eyes, drawing his awareness inward to heighten his perception.

Invisible strands of Spirit rippled away from him, weaving through the gridlock and the crowd to probe directly into the belly of the armored vehicle.

The overwhelming roar of engines, angry shouts, and static noises faded into a dull, distant memory.

Every ambient disturbance was stripped away, leaving behind only the faint sounds vibrating within the military carrier.

.........

Inside the armored transport, the air conditioning was humming at full power, yet it failed to mask the stagnant, cloying scent of fresh gore and beastly musk.