Starting to Gain Experience from Push-Ups Chapter 1229 - 596_2

"Grandpa?"

Fang Cheng tentatively uttered the name, his voice laced with uncertainty.

The darkened figure remained immobile, as rigid as an unmoving tree trunk, offering no response.

Swallowing hard, Fang Cheng fought to quell the frantic anxiety that had taken root in his heart.

He ventured forward, carefully navigating the scattered toys strewn across the floor, drawing ever nearer to the shadowed corner.

Five meters.

Three meters, then one.

As Fang Cheng finally positioned himself behind the silhouette, he hesitantly reached out his right hand, intending to lay it upon the figure's shoulder.

The hunched form abruptly twisted its head backward, contorting at an angle that no living person could manage, completing a full one-hundred-and-eighty-degree rotation.

The instant Fang Cheng's eyes met that horrifying visage, his pupils contracted violently, a prickling sensation crawled across his scalp, and every hair on his body sprang to attention.

It was not the face of a human he beheld.

The aged, sagging skin was distended and pallid, slick with some viscous fluid. Its eyes had rolled back entirely, revealing naught but bloodshot whites.

The corners of its mouth were stretched into a grotesque, exaggerated grin, with dark, brownish liquid dribbling from between its teeth and splattering onto the sweater.

Before Fang Cheng could even attempt a retreat, a ghastly, air-leaking hiss escaped the creature's throat. Its two withered arms shot forward like a pair of grasping pincers, aiming directly for him.

Whoosh —

A foul, noxious wind swept through the space.

Fang Cheng's slight frame was violently impacted by an immense force, sending him sprawling backward onto the floor.

The back of his head struck the hard terrazzo with a jarring thud, momentarily blacking out his vision.

The vile liquid dripped onto his face, and those two icy, unyielding hands clamped with crushing force around his throat.

Oxygen was rapidly cut off, his lungs seared with an excruciating agony, feeling as though they might rupture.

The sheer disparity in strength was overwhelming, rendering him utterly incapable of breaking free.

His sight began to swim and blur.

Yet, under the terrifying pressure of impending death, a profound shift seemed to occur deep within Fang Cheng's mind, as if a crucial connection had been severed.

A primal, ferocious instinct, alien to this fragile body, surged through him with uncontrollable power.

He ceased his futile attempts to pry the suffocating arms from his neck and instead began to desperately feel around on the floor with his right hand. His fingers closed around the solid form of a plastic toy car nearby.

Fang Cheng's grip tightened, and the dark, reddish lump on the back of his hand suddenly swelled, its purple veins becoming starkly prominent.

He channeled every last reserve of strength remaining within his body into his right arm.

"Get away!"

A hoarse, guttural roar tore from Fang Cheng's throat.

With newfound fury, he lifted the toy car and brought it down with crushing force against the monster's temple, striking its grotesquely twisted face.

"Bang!"

A solid, dull impact echoed, causing the monster's relentless assault to falter for a brief half-second.

Seizing this critical window of opportunity, Fang Cheng bent his knees and violently propelled both feet against the creature's chest, unleashing a sudden burst of raw power.

"Crash!"

The shadow-like figure was flung backward like a discarded sack, impacting heavily near the coffee table.

A glass cup perched precariously on the table teetered and then fell, shattering into countless pieces on the floor.

Just as Fang Cheng prepared to roll over, heave himself up, seize a shard of glass, and continue his desperate onslaught.

"Snap!"

The brilliant overhead light flickered on abruptly, flooding the entire living room with an intense, piercing glare.

The static on the television screen, resembling snowflakes, flickered twice before swiftly resolving into the familiar scene of an ongoing drama.

"What's happening? Is someone here? Did someone break in!"

The door to the bedroom at the far end of the first floor burst open suddenly.

His father, clad only in loose-fitting shorts, rushed out brandishing a broom.

His mother followed close behind, her face etched with stark paleness.

"Wah!"

His younger brother, peeking out from the top of the staircase still in his pajamas, let out a wail upon witnessing the chaotic scene unfolding in the living room.

Fang Cheng gasped for breath, his chest heaving uncontrollably.

He sagged onto the floor, turning his head towards the coffee table, his gaze following his parents' horrified stares.

The figure he had violently kicked away now lay sprawled amidst the glittering fragments of shattered glass.

There were no upturned eyes, no grotesquely widened mouth.

Resting there was a frail, emaciated old man, clad in a dark gray sweater.

Grandpa's eyes were shut tight, his face slightly contorted, a testament to the pain inflicted by the blows.

Dark red blood continuously oozed from his nostrils, forming a small, dark pool on the floor beneath him.

"Dad!"

His father dropped the broom, rushed forward, gently lifted the old man, and then turned to his mother, his voice urgent:

"What are you waiting for? Hurry and call an ambulance!"

Trembling, his mother hastened over and retrieved the landline telephone from the coffee table.

Fang Cheng remained seated, frozen, his chest slick with a cold sweat.

He glanced down at his own hands, which trembled ever so slightly, then at his grandpa, lying still in the growing pool of blood. His mind was plunged into a state of profound and utter confusion.

What was truly happening?

Where had that powerful, terrifying entity vanished to?

Could it be that, all along, the target of his ferocious assault was... merely a paralyzed, ordinary old man?

The lights overhead remained blazing, and the agitated cries of his family pierced through the air, undeniably real.

Yet, Fang Cheng felt as though an invisible net, impossibly tight, was constricting him.

A creeping, phantasmal sense of dread slithered up his spine like a parasitic vine.

.........

Within the specialized interrogation chamber, designed for candidate assessments, located on the third subterranean level of the Special Search Team Headquarters.

Seated placidly in the heart of the room, Fang Cheng rested against a metallic chair.

His eyelids were shut, his breathing measured as his chest rose and fell in a steady rhythm, giving the impression of a man deep in slumber.

A dark, metallic helmet encased his head, from which thick, obsidian cables snaked outwards, trailing across the floor to connect with the interrogation table positioned several yards away.

A junior examiner, his gaze fixed upon the shifting readouts displayed on a notebook screen, held his mouse with a firm grip, his fingers occasionally manipulating the scroll wheel.

"Director Chen."

He turned, his voice dropping to a lower register as he delivered his report:

"Candidate designation 287 experienced a sudden surge in neurological activity moments ago. The electrical patterns within the amygdala region showed abnormal intensity, suggesting the subject encountered a perceived imminent threat within the Illusion Realm."

"However, the amplitude of his Alpha and Beta waves responded with rapid self-correction, and the brainwave frequency successfully stabilized within the expected 8 to 12 Hz range, displaying no chaotic oscillations indicative of extreme terror."

Chen Bingzhong, his form largely obscured by the chair's high back, kept his eyes locked onto the silent, imposing Ancient Bronze Bell.

He retrieved the insulated cup beside him, twisted off the lid, and took a deliberate sip of the potent, dark tea, remarking in an even tone:

"A common occurrence. This young man has undergone martial arts training for many years; his vitality is robust, and consequently, his willpower is exceptionally resilient."

"Even with his Strength artificially suppressed by the prevailing Law within the realm, his innate intuition remains far sharper than that of an ordinary individual, making him difficult to overwhelm."

The young examiner acknowledged this with a slight nod before redirecting his attention to the illuminated computer display.

Chen Bingzhong finished his warm tea, his profound gaze drifting across the dimly lit, confined space.

The architectural layout of the Special Search Team's central edifice, a distinctive ring-shaped structure, was not an arbitrary aesthetic choice but was dictated by critical operational necessities.

At the absolute core of the entire subterranean complex lay an object of immense peril and significant radioactive contamination, kept in a highly secured state.

The Ancient Bronze Bell resting on the examination table, employed as an assessment instrument, served only to capture a minuscule fraction of the potent aura emanating from that deeply contained entity; it functioned as a mere byproduct, yet possessed unfathomable Strength.

It is worth noting that the original location of this Special Search Team Headquarters was, over a millennium ago, a subterranean sacrificial site belonging to the ancient Yue Kingdom.

Three decades prior, during an extensive urban expansion project in East Capital.

A team of construction workers, while excavating the foundational bedrock, inadvertently breached the uppermost strata of the sacrificial pit, disturbing the colossal entity buried deep within historical obscurity.

That very night, every single worker across the entire construction crew descended into a state of collective, violent delirium.

They engaged in brutal cannibalism and inflicted deadly violence upon one another, ultimately perishing in a frenzy of madness.

Due to the extraordinary scale of the object, the technological capabilities and available Extraordinary Power of that era proved insufficient for its safe removal or containment.

Consequently, the decisive action was taken by Director Li, who held the highest authority within the Special Search Team at that time. He personally ordered the mobilization of the team's entire core combat contingent, ostensibly to enact a containment protocol.

Following this, they proceeded to pour over ten meters of anti-radiation concrete walls directly over the original site, thereby permanently encasing the area and constructing the ring-shaped Special Search Team Headquarters above it.

It was only in more recent years that the research division of the Special Search Team began the slow process of deciphering certain principles governing the sealed object and cautiously devising methods for its utilization.

This "Illusion Realm," employed for candidate evaluation, stands as one such application.

Chen Bingzhong cast a glance at the junior examiner engrossed in the screen, a flicker of complex emotion crossing his features.

Certain highly classified details remained inaccessible even to senior officials within the Special Search Team's hierarchy.

For instance, the auditory phenomenon generated by the Ancient Bell was not, in fact, a fabricated "Illusion Realm."

Rather, by emitting a specific resonant frequency, it forcefully extracted a subject's consciousness, projecting it into a fragmented reality that had spontaneously formed from the inherent nature of the sealed object itself.