Starting to Gain Experience from Push-Ups Chapter 1241 - 602:

"I thought it must be the dark fluid spewed from the zombie's maw that caused this predicament, and I questioned the integrity of my own mind."

"Those phantoms multiplied, slowly gliding closer, densely shrouding my bedside."

"In unison, they all bowed their heads, opening their shadowy mouths towards me, emitting that chilling laughter, like nails screeching across a chalkboard."

"Frantically, I struck the call bell, yelling for the physician, but the corridor remained utterly silent."

"I threw my fist forward in an attempt to strike, yet my blow passed right through them; they were impervious to harm!"

Finally, Ma Donghe exhaled slowly and patted his chest:

"Miraculously, just as those specters were poised to descend upon my face, a resonant 'dong' echoed from a grand bell overhead."

"Then, everything before my sight dissolved into a blur, and I finally withdrew from that spectral domain."

At this juncture, Ma Donghe smacked his lips and turned to Fang Cheng:

"Ah, you too awoke when the bell chimed, didn't you? That feeling of engagement within, wasn't it exhilarating?"

Fang Cheng's eyes narrowed slightly upon hearing this.

A bell sound? Where could that have possibly originated?

His consciousness had clearly been compelled to withdraw from the illusory realm due to profound physical exhaustion and overexertion.

From the very beginning, encompassing the confrontation at the water treatment facility and the departure through the gate, he had not perceived any bell heralding the conclusion of the assessment.

Fang Cheng discreetly clenched his right hand at his side, sensing the formidable power latent within this physique.

Suddenly, a profound question surfaced in his mind.

Come to think of it, in actuality, his body wasn't inherently weak.

At most, he had experienced slight perspiration, a modest elevation in body temperature, an indication of something somewhat unusual.

Such a degree of exertion barely approached the intensity of his regular, comprehensive morning exercise regimen; it was only marginally more strenuous than a basic warm-up.

At the outset, upon awakening, to bridge the cognitive disparity between the two realities, his spirit had felt somewhat disoriented, leading to transient lightheadedness.

Given that within the illusionary plane, he had successfully conjured the True Sun Fire, thereby acquiring the capability to vanquish the adversaries.

Then why had his recollections of tangible reality not fully resurface within that construct?

Furthermore, from the cessation of combat up to the present moment, his skill interface appeared to have remained dormant, exhibiting no signs of activity.

Precisely as this thought materialized.

The periphery of Fang Cheng’s vision suddenly flickered, immediately followed by a brief burst of pale blue illumination.

Concurrently, streams of semi-transparent text prompts cascaded downwards like a waterfall, mirroring the trajectory of his gaze:

[You accomplished a remarkable feat without leveraging any bodily attribute enhancements; skill experience has increased by 20 points]

[Boxing Lv3 (503/1000)]

[You accomplished a remarkable feat without leveraging any bodily attribute enhancements; skill experience has increased by 20 points]

[Sanda Lv3 (195/1000)]

[You accomplished a remarkable feat without leveraging any bodily attribute enhancements; skill experience has increased by 30 points]

[Muay Thai Lv2 (451/500)]

[In a state of profound selflessness, your willpower activated the True Sun Fire, enabling autonomous Qigong guidance; skill experience has increased by 40 points]

[Qigong Lv3 (91/1000)]

[Within a secluded, specialized environment, you successfully visualized True Sun Fire; skill experience has increased by 50]

[Visualization Level 3 (309/1000)]

Perusing these newly materialized notifications, Fang Cheng paused momentarily before experiencing a wave of reassurance wash over him.

Thankfully, the interface had not been entirely obstructed by that peculiar illusory examination realm.

Fang Cheng did not indulge in the satisfaction of his increased skill experience.

Subsequently, as he shifted his thoughts, the intensity in his gaze deepened once more.

Considering that he was capable of engaging in physical combat with adversaries within the so-called "illusion realm," and that this engagement was recognized by the interface as effective battle, even yielding such substantial skill experience.

Does this not, indirectly, validate the authenticity of that experience?

It is crucial to recognize that, in reality, engaging in aerial combat training solely against simulated opponents would not result in the interface awarding such an abundance of genuine combat experience.

Could such an astonishing illusionary realm genuinely exist in this world, possessing the capacity to completely suppress his conscious awareness and forcefully implant fabricated memories?

Even capable of deceiving the interface’s mechanism for judging real combat?

Fang Cheng clenched both his fists tightly, his mind a tempest of churning thoughts.

Beside him, Ma Donghe’s persistent boasting continued, interspersed with the anxious murmurs of the surrounding candidates.

On the tips of his fists, the residual impact force from shattering monstrous forms seemed to linger.

The ceaseless chatter of family members at the dining table.

The vibrant camaraderie of classmates at the water plant.

If that entire experience was truly merely a virtual illusion constructed from subconscious code.

Why, then, was the sensation of extreme fatigue preceding the loss of consciousness so palpable, as if etched into the very fibers of his being?

The sunshine, the buildings, family, and friends, all within reach... Were these merely delusions?

"Slap!"

A large hand landed on Fang Cheng’s shoulder, jolting him from his swirling thoughts.

Ma Donghe, his large head leaning in, questioned with a hint of curiosity:

"Ah Cheng, what’s got you lost? You’ve been sitting here like a statue for ages, still reeling from the illusion realm?"

Fang Cheng quickly regained his composure, offering a casual response:

"Nothing much, just replaying the battle from earlier."

"Come on, the test is over, what’s the point of dwelling on it?"

Ma Donghe dismissively waved his hand, then rubbed his rumbling stomach.

"Gurgle—"

A prolonged, muffled sound emanated from his belly at that precise moment.

He glanced up at the clock on the corridor wall and declared:

"It’s nearly noon. We should head out and grab some grub."

As he spoke, Ma Donghe suddenly stopped, as if a revelation had struck him.

He stroked the nascent stubble on his chin, his brow furrowed in confusion:

"Hey, isn’t this odd? We were just lying in chairs for a Spirit test, but after fighting zombies and specters in the illusion realm, I come out and my legs feel like jelly, and my stomach’s clinging to my spine from hunger."

Ma Donghe’s eyes widened as he patted his strong thighs:

"It’s almost as if… all the energy I expended inside was directly drawn from my real body’s Strength!"

These observations, rough yet surprisingly astute, reached Fang Cheng’s ears, lending further credence to his own nascent suspicions.

He remained silent, simply listening.

"Whatever!"

Unable to decipher the situation, Ma Donghe opted to disregard it, waving his hand and thumping his chest, exclaiming:

"We’re having a feast at lunch today! Gotta replenish all that spent energy! Tomorrow afternoon is the stamina and wilderness survival test."

"Based on my experience with training camps, those instructors are brutal. They’ll probably dump us in some mountain wilderness for two or three days."

"We’ll be eating scraps under the stars. Today’s not the day to skimp; we absolutely need to build up our strength!"

"Hey, what are you guys gossiping about so intensely?"

While they were talking, a head with prominent ears suddenly popped into view.

This was Hou Peng, the lanky candidate who had been listening to Ma Donghe’s boasts near the water cooler.

He rubbed his hands together, a broad, toothy grin spreading across his face as he approached familiarly:

"Brother Fang, you’re done with the exam, right? I overheard Brother Ma talking about getting a meal."

"Perfect timing! I know this fantastic lamb restaurant just around the corner from the Special Search Team Headquarters. Their brass pot boiled lamb is absolutely divine!"

"Consider it a small token of appreciation. My treat, let’s celebrate our successful completion and toast to our future brotherhood!"

"Get lost, it’s not your turn to pay,"

Ma Donghe glared and shoved Hou Peng aside with his fan-like hand:

"I just got out of a zombie battle in the morgue, so this meal is mine to perform an exorcism for bad luck. Nobody’s snatching the bill from me!"

"Oh come on, Brother Ma, you’re really treating me like a stranger…"

Hou Peng wasn’t offended and clung to the conversation like a persistent piece of candy.

The two seemed to get along quite well, in their own way.

They engaged in a playful back-and-forth argument in the waiting hall, vying for the honor of paying the bill.

Fang Cheng stood slightly apart, observing their antics as big spenders, allowing his tense nerves to finally unwind a bit.

He let out a soft chuckle and interjected:

"Let’s go. We can chat on the way. If it comes down to it, I’ll treat."

Hearing Fang Cheng’s words, Ma Donghe and Hou Peng immediately ceased their playful dispute and quickly fell into step beside him.

The trio walked abreast, moving through the throng of examinees who remained engrossed, their heads bowed over study materials, their nerves still frayed.

Upon reaching the first-floor lobby, they pushed open the heavy glass doors, stepping out into the brilliant, dazzling sunlight.