Starting to Gain Experience from Push-Ups Chapter 1242 - 603

~4 minute read · 983 words
Previously on Starting to Gain Experience from Push-Ups...
Fang Cheng experiences an illusionary battle, but questions its reality when his skill panel updates as if it were real. Ma Donghe also notes the physical exhaustion from the test, further fueling Fang Cheng's suspicions about the nature of the illusion. The group decides to get food after the exam.
Special Search Team Headquarters, Level -3, a unique observation room. The expansive chamber, devoid of overhead lights, felt exceptionally dark and profound. Cold drafts snaked in from ventilation grilles at the corners, mingling with the low hum emanating from the adjacent machine room. A peculiar scent of ozone permeated the air, layered with a subtle hint of cold-brewed coffee, creating a strange, chilling ambiance. The only illumination within the hall originated from the colossal, circular screen walls encircling the space. These screen walls were segmented into nine large, distinct displays. Several screens were currently dark, displaying nothing but pitch-black silence, indicating that the candidates within those respective zones had triggered the safety mechanism and were forcibly withdrawn from the "Illusion Realm." The remaining screens presented a variety of surreal visuals in real-time, viewed as if from a top-down, omniscient perspective. On the third screen from the left, chaotic images flickered from within a dimly lit mortuary. A balding security guard, built like a bear, scrambled backward across the damp, tiled floor, his hands and feet working furiously. He clutched a dry powder fire extinguisher to his face like a shield. Behind him, a male corpse with vacant, white eyes shuffled forward with stiff, deliberate steps. The bear-like man, having lost a shoe, let out a high-pitched wail, akin to a pig being slaughtered: "Help! Captain Wang, save me! Oh heavens—it's a ghost!" He crawled frantically, eyes squeezed shut, flailing the extinguisher wildly. The weighty metal canister swung erratically through the air, nearly striking him multiple times. His tear-streaked, utterly pathetic display starkly contrasted with his rugged, imposing physique, making him appear like two entirely different individuals. The scenes unfolding on the screens resembled a live "Truman Show" performance, a reality no one outside could possibly fathom. This observation chamber, situated deep beneath the Special Search Team Headquarters, was actually an ancient subterranean ritual site discovered thirty years prior. At that time, hundreds of workers involved in its excavation descended into madness simply by glimpsing a malevolent entity within the ruins, leading to a frenzied scene of mutual violence and death. Today, that terrifying entity lies buried a hundred meters below the observation room, its influence completely contained by multiple layers of specialized lead-zinc concrete, engineered to withstand nuclear reactor levels, ensuring absolute isolation from the surface. The dynamic visuals projected onto the surrounding screen walls are the result of technological marvels achieved after decades of dedicated research by scientists in the Special Search Team's Equipment Department. They painstakingly deciphered enigmatic inscriptions found on the surface of the malevolent entity. Every candidate who dons a specialized helmet and enters the "Black Rain World" is, in effect, being guided by the unique audio frequencies emitted by the Soul Suppressing Bell, referred to as the "Sub-clock." This technologically advanced force facilitates their consciousnesses in traversing interdimensional pathways, smoothly transitioning into the Otherworld connected by the residual energy of the aforementioned evil entity. Furthermore, every tremor of fear, every determined effort like a Swing Punch within that realm, is meticulously captured by the "Mother Clock," the Soul Suppressing Bell subjugated deep underground. Utilizing cutting-edge quantum analysis technology, scientists then translate the mental wave patterns received by the Mother Clock, ultimately rendering them as these clear and vivid images on the screens. Despite current technological constraints and the temporal discrepancies between the two dimensions, the system cannot yet perfectly replicate the continuous detail observed in a full-length film. However, when a candidate's emotions surge violently or their survival instincts ignite intensely, the Mother Clock is capable of faithfully reconstructing these high-impact fragments of consciousness onto the display. Presently, a man sits alone upon a genuine leather sofa positioned at the room's center. He is attired in a impeccably tailored, deep black High-level Uniform, its sharp cut emphasizing his broad shoulders with stark, severe lines. The golden wheat insignia on his epaulettes gleams with a cold, metallic luster under the faint glow of the screens. The man leans slightly forward, his hands resting upon his knees. His gaze drifts past the tearful, bear-like man in the mortuary and conspicuously avoids the views of other candidates. Instead, his attention is laser-focused on the sixth screen, located in the center. The backdrop on this particular screen is exceedingly dark and appears quite indistinct. It suggests the interior of an abandoned factory, with a dense network of rusted pipelines crisscrossing the space. Within this setting, a slender, vulnerable student finds himself encircled by a phalanx of distorted, howling shadows. Defying any instinct to retreat, the student opts for an aggressive counter-attack. He deftly sidesteps a shadow's aggressive lunge, exerting sudden force from his waist and back. With a powerful twist, he unleashes a punch. A ferocious Swing Punch connects squarely with the monster's head, causing the shadow to instantly contort and dissipate.Then, his footwork shifts, like a cheetah darting through the arena, knee rising, a side kick, constantly pushing back the shadowy assaults. The scene rapidly retracts, and time leaps forward. The battle concludes, and the student, along with several bruised classmates, helps each other depart through the aquatic facility's entrance. They collapse onto steps overgrown with weeds, panting heavily, their faces alight with the thrill of their survival. Noticing the student's bewildered gaze toward the heavens. A subtle gleam flickers within the middle-aged man's profound eyes, a slight upturn gracing his lips. Without even turning his head, he merely lifts his right hand and makes a nonchalant gesture in the air. From the profound gloom behind, a hushed sound of leather-soled shoes approaching emerges. A young man, not yet thirty, exuding an aura of sharp competence, strides forward with haste. He halts precisely half a meter from the couch, offering a respectful bow.