Starting to Gain Experience from Push-Ups Chapter 1208 - 587

Silence dominated the bedroom.

Heavy curtains sealed off all outside clamor and the dim streetlight gleam.

Fang Cheng positioned himself cross-legged on the bed, spine rigid, eyes shut tight.

His breaths flowed deep and rhythmic, while his mind plunged into a spiritual realm.

Familiar furniture contours and wall textures vanished swiftly, like wind-eroded sand figures.

A mild chilly night breeze took over, softly caressing his cheeks.

Fang Cheng's eyes snapped open as he hovered high in the air.

This realm too lay wrapped in profound darkness.

At the island's heart, the grand golden palace loomed silently, radiating a subtle holy luminescence through the gloom.

In the distant western nook of the island, the memory-forged abandoned asylum still crouched unseen in the shadows.

Rolling hills, twisting streams, and thick surrounding woodlands shaped this immense, serene domain.

What about the heavens above...

Fang Cheng raised his sight, fixing on the remote drifting clouds.

The crimson crescent moon, squeezed tight by his will, dangled like a slender bloody gaze, spilling deep red light over the land.

After the Evil Ghost Mask got fully subdued and fused into the Inner World, a fresh governing mechanism took shape.

The former disordered void now subtly displayed cycles of day and night.

Light and shadow shifted in steady cadence, glows fading and shades swelling in endless loops.

Without his awareness, the Inner World synced flawlessly with the outer reality.

"Perhaps this is the balance of Yin and Yang, endlessly regenerating..."

Fang Cheng contemplated with sudden insight.

His eyes gradually roamed the skies and ground, surveying this realm of contrasting faces.

He then dropped to a vibrant green meadow, brows creasing faintly.

Right upon arrival, his sharp instincts picked up a minor ripple.

The feeling carried an odd uniqueness.

In one word, it felt "subtle."

Like a hidden current stirring beneath a still lake, too elusive to locate precisely.

Did the Lord of Slaughter plant a covert threat before getting banished?

The notion flickered through, then got quashed.

Free of worry, Fang Cheng strode boldly, meandering at ease across his island.

Bare soles sank into yielding earth, grass dew dampening his ankles with authentic chill.

Night gusts swept the groves, foliage whispering a gentle "shhh".

All scenes radiated natural peace, untouched by fiendish corruption or ruin.

Fang Cheng halted, tilting his head toward the blood moon fringing the dark vault.

The very second his stare locked on it, that faint mental tremor sharpened vividly.

This vibe connected intimately to the mask.

Led by the pull, he wheeled around and headed for the close-by surging stream.

Under scarlet reflections, the waters danced with glittering ripples, murmuring softly.

Fang Cheng knelt at the shore, drawing near the liquid mirror.

Deep in his irises, twin golden fires erupted.

This marked his spirit force at peak focus.

His sight transformed into an ultra-potent magnifier, swiftly enlarging the vista ahead.

The crystal-clear river unveiled a bizarre tiny cosmos to his enhanced view.

Myriad translucent jelly-like specks in odd shapes slithered and split languidly inside.

These... microorganisms?

Fang Cheng rose, astonishment sparking in his gaze.

This Inner World, wondrous as it was, sprang purely from his Martial Arts Will alone.

At best, a mere echo of reality in his Spiritual Domain.

Beyond rigid peaks and flora, no autonomous beings stirred.

Then whence sprang these abrupt microorganisms?

Silent by the bank, Fang Cheng's thoughts whirled at top speed.

Were they the Lord of Slaughter's ploy, they'd stink of that rusty rage.

Fang Cheng gave a light headshake, casting aside the guess outright.

For his probes revealed these minis pulsing with the rawest, purest life vibes.

Ideas sparked; a thunderbolt realization sliced the murk, dawning within.

Evil Ghost Mask—Feast of Slaughter.

Precisely!

Fang Cheng's gaze blazed, ocular flames surging wildly.

From prior cues, this eerie artifact's essence lay in devouring to harvest Life Energy.

The mask claimed half, channeling the rest back to its bearer.

That crimson fluid beast clinging to the clown mask, brain-probing fiend, fell wholly to the Evil Ghost Mask's maw.

Back then, no True Qi swell filled his Dantian, no abrupt might surged through his frame.

Now clear: the massive converted Life Energy skipped his corporeal form entirely.

Instead, it vaulted bodily limits, flooding the spirit-linked Inner World.

Pristine Life Energy settled in, evolving across this domain.

In the end, within these waters, it birthed these primal life sparks.