He needed to carve out a channel wide enough to contain the torrent.
A surge of soul force erupted from the continuously cycling core point within, instantly flooding Liu Yuan's body.
Beads of sweat formed on her forehead.
Clearly, this process wasn’t easy.
The higher the completeness, the greater the difficulty of transmission.
Su Qi’s forehead also began to glisten with sweat.
The toll of forging this "canal" was far heavier than he had anticipated.
The energy reactions within Liu Yuan’s body were too volatile—each guiding motion felt like plucking a taut string, sending violent reverberations through her system.
The strain grew more pronounced.
Su Qi’s brow furrowed.
Liu Yuan let out a muffled groan, her delicate face scrunching up in discomfort.
Su Qi’s spiritual force collided with a barrier—pliant yet unyielding.
It wasn’t a physical obstruction, but more like an impervious spiderweb, formless yet stubbornly blocking the energy’s path.
"It’s clogged here," Su Qi said calmly.
"Brother, is it troublesome?"
"Not at all."
Su Qi intensified the flow of his spiritual energy.
If helping Yun Huang had been a meticulous act of "carving," then breaking through this barrier was a brute-force "collision."
Boom!
Liu Yuan’s body arched like a drawn bow before collapsing limply back onto the bed.
The invisible barrier was torn open by Su Qi’s spiritual force, leaving a ragged breach.
A cool, revitalizing energy instantly found its outlet, rushing joyously along the path Su Qi had forged.
No longer a raging "river," what formed inside Liu Yuan was a delicate, sprawling "water network," fine as spider silk, extending throughout her body.
Where the energy flowed, there was none of Yun Huang’s voracious cellular devouring.
Instead, it was like a parched sponge, absorbing every drop before slowly seeping into every corner of her being.
Silent, yet omnipresent.
"Done."
He pushed harder, his spiritual force acting like an invisible chisel, piercing deep into the soil to clear the canal’s path.
Boom—
Liu Yuan’s mind went blank.
A flood unlike anything she had ever felt obliterated her rationality.
But perseverance paid off.
The newly forged "canal" was now fully connected within her.
Pure energy, mingled with a more primal life force, surged unceasingly.
Su Qi panted heavily, his body once again pushed to exhaustion.
This fatigue felt even more overwhelming than when he had carved Yun Huang’s path.
Liu Yuan seemed to notice.
She wrapped her soft arms around Su Qi’s neck and gently pulled him closer.
"Thank you, brother."
……
The next day.
Outside the "Dragon’s Enlightenment" building, a crowd had gathered.
Nearly every team had arrived early, not wanting to miss their chance.
Even those indifferent to rankings couldn’t pass up the rare opportunity to cultivate inside an eleventh-tier special card.
Yun Huang’s team was also present.
Li Ran’s expression remained dark, his hands stuffed in his pockets as he leaned against the wall in silence.
The other members exchanged glances but said nothing.
Liu Yuan trailed behind Su Qi, clutching the hem of his clothes, her large eyes darting curiously around.
Su Qi himself yawned, looking half-asleep and utterly disinterested in his surroundings.
Only Yun Huang stood composed, her aura completely restrained yet exuding an unshakable, mountain-like presence.
Lin Xiao appeared right on time.
He took a headcount, then nodded in satisfaction.
"Everyone’s punctual. Since we’re all here, let’s proceed inside."
His gaze swept over the crowd, lingering briefly on Yun Huang’s team.
"The training location has been adjusted."
He led the seven teams into the building, guiding them to a newly designated area.
Rows of sleek metal cubicles replaced the previously open hall.
"Each of you will have a private room. Check your assigned number with me and enter accordingly."
"You’ll spend most of the next month here."
"Team leaders will also participate. Though your hunting scores won’t count, your cultivation progress will be recorded for reference."
"Meals will be delivered to your doors at scheduled times."
After a pause, Lin Xiao’s expression turned stern as he added,
"There are no cameras inside the cubicles, but full biometric monitoring is active. I expect everyone to refrain from… inappropriate behavior."
He let the warning sink in.
"Remember, every seemingly odd rule exists because someone, at some point, did something unthinkable."
"Don’t let yourself become the next cautionary tale."
Yes…
Before this rule was implemented, someone had once indulged in… private activities here.
Once the instructions were clear, Lin Xiao gestured for them to enter.
The trainees dispersed, locating their assigned cubicles.
……
Half an hour later.
Inside an observation room.
An entire wall was covered by a massive screen, divided into seventy-seven real-time data feeds.
Wu Gong and Lin Xiao stood below, alongside a middle-aged man in a white lab coat and gold-rimmed glasses—his demeanor scholarly yet authoritative.
Lin Xiao remained silent, his focus locked on the data stream labeled "No. 1," deep in thought.
Theoretically, a seventh-tier transcendent had only a 37% success rate in absorbing a first-tier source crystal.
The process could take anywhere from three to twelve hours, depending on individual aptitude—and even then, it had to be done in stages.
Absorbing even 20-30% in one attempt was considered exceptional.
But this No. 1…
"Fascinating," the bespectacled man mused, adjusting his glasses. His voice was mild, yet carried undeniable authority.
"For a seventh-tier transcendent to metabolize such vast source energy in such a short time is physiologically impossible."
"Either his cellular structure is fundamentally different, granting him absurdly high energy conversion efficiency…"
"Or he possesses something—an artifact, perhaps—that allows rapid storage or even direct devouring of energy."
He turned.
"Are all the trainees’ profiles accounted for?"
"Everything’s here," a staff member replied, handing him a tablet.
The man skimmed No. 1’s file.
"Is that so? Even more intriguing."
Smiling, he returned his attention to the screen.
"Let’s observe."
"Fortunately, our new equipment can track real-time energy fluctuations and detailed vitals for every trainee."
He pointed to an enlarged subsection of the wall display.
There, each trainee’s data stream pulsed like rolling hills—with No. 1’s energy curve standing out, steady and vast, its peaks dwarfing all others like an unending river.
Most people's energy curves were relatively normal, fluctuating up and down in a pattern typical for seventh-tier superhumans absorbing energy.
But there was one anomaly...
The line representing this person's energy fluctuations was as flat as if drawn with a ruler.
A perfectly straight horizontal line.
"What's going on with this person's data?"
Lin Xiao couldn't hold back his confusion, his voice laced with bewilderment.
"Two possibilities," the bespectacled man adjusted his glasses, the lenses reflecting streams of data. "First, he's using some method beyond our understanding to block the instrument's detection."
He paused, his tone turning peculiar.
"Second..."
"His energy is in a state of absolute, perfect stillness. Not a single trace of leakage or fluctuation, so the instrument detects no changes."
"How is that possible?" Wu Gong blurted out.
How could a living person's internal energy be completely motionless?
"Exactly."
The bespectacled man stared at that eerie straight line, his lips curling into a faint smile—not confusion, but the excitement of discovering a new toy.
"How could it be possible..."
"That's what makes it even more fascinating, isn't it?"
His hands tucked into the pockets of his white lab coat, he leaned forward, almost pressing himself against the data screen.
His laughter carried a near-fanatic enthusiasm.
"Look at the curves of these seventy-six subjects. Their peaks, valleys, and fluctuation frequencies vary, but they all perfectly align with our theoretical model."
This 'Observer V' is the research institute's latest masterpiece. Its precision can capture the most microscopic fluctuations of primal energy.
Dr. Qin extended a finger, lightly tapping the flat line.
"So, the problem isn't the instrument."
"It's this person."
Lin Xiao's brows furrowed into a knot.
He couldn't comprehend it.
A seventh-tier superhuman, even while sleeping, couldn't possibly halt all energy exchange between their body and the environment.
That straight line didn't represent calm—it defied the laws of nature.
"Pull up his personal file," Dr. Qin's voice cooled, carrying an undeniable command.
A nearby staff member immediately complied.
Soon, Su Qi's profile appeared on a smaller screen.
Dr. Qin skimmed it, his gaze lingering briefly on the words "access denied" before returning to the data line.
"How intriguing."
He adjusted his glasses, the lenses reflecting that uncanny straight line.
"Initiate a 'micro-trace' scan. Set power to seventy percent, targeting Room 23."
A staff member paled. "We don't have authorization!"
"I authorize it," Dr. Qin replied, his tone devoid of emotion.
Lin Xiao opened his mouth to protest but was silenced by a single glance from Dr. Qin.
In that look, he saw madness.
The madness of a scientist who'd discovered uncharted territory and would stop at nothing to explore it.
...
Inside Room 22.
Yun Huang sat cross-legged.
A first-tier primal crystal hovered before her, emitting a soft glow.
She inhaled slowly.
In the past, she would have painstakingly peeled away the crystal's most volatile outer energy, then used her mental strength to draw out a thread of the purest essence, spending hours refining it.
The process was like treading on thin ice.
But now...
With a single thought,
The newly formed "canal" inside her surged to life.
A gentle yet powerful suction emanated from her body.
The energy within the crystal no longer required her laborious guidance—it rushed toward her like floodwaters finding a breach.
The violent energy, upon entering her, was instantly broken down, tamed, and reshaped by the "canal," transforming into pure power that coursed through her limbs.
A crystal that would have taken half a day to absorb less than ten percent of was now visibly dimming.
In barely ten minutes.
Crack.
The crystal crumbled into dust, scattering in the air.
Yun Huang opened her eyes.
She could clearly feel her strength growing.
This rate of improvement was terrifying.
She glanced toward Room 23, her expression complicated.
Wasn't Su Qi... sleeping next door?
"For the peace of all ages..."
She murmured the phrase softly, suddenly feeling that the future the lazy guy had described might... actually be possible.
Because she herself was the first living proof.
...
Inside Room 23.
Su Qi lay sprawled on a specialized cultivation bed, idly staring at the ceiling.
Several primal crystals were placed before him.
But he made no move to absorb them.
He no longer needed such inefficient methods.
Why did the team leader have to participate in this too?
"So boring."
He yawned.
A whole month confined to this tiny room—how was this any different from prison?
Just then, he sensed something unusual.
An imperceptible ripple was sweeping over his body from all directions.
Subtle, faint, but not unnoticed.
"Peeping?"
Su Qi raised an eyebrow.
He understood.
Those outside must be baffled by his data.
Because long ago, the energy circulation within him had been refined into a perfectly closed loop.
Any energy entering his body was instantly disassembled into fundamental particles, then reassembled into whatever form he desired.
Not a single wisp of energy escaped the process.
Su Qi ignored it.
But the scanning ripple came again, this time stronger.
More invasive. More analytical.
"Persistent, aren't we?"
Su Qi's patience wore thin.
With a thought,
He pulled open the door and left with his sister in tow.
That last resting spot had been just fine.
No disturbances.
Even the balding guy couldn't find him.
Su Qi figured that if this was just a competition of cultivation speed...
With unlimited primal crystals, letting the others train for twenty-nine days first wouldn't matter.
Of course, to avoid standing out too much,
He could afford to hold back a little.
Letting them have a twenty-one-day head start shouldn't be too outrageous, right?
...
And then...
Dr. Qin stared at Room 23's data.
Tiny myopic eyes, enormous confusion.
Could someone please explain why the life signs had also flatlined?
【Joy +999】
't think I'm that capable, I'm just trying my best to stay alive. I've been kind all my life, never did anything bad, yet worldly suffering spared me not one bit. The human world is a nice place, but I won't come back in my next life. A kind young man, who wanted to just get by singing, but through repeated deceits and betrayals, has gone down an irredeemable path.
e, Immortal Body, Transmigration, System, Progression Fantasy, Academy Setting, Third-Person Perspective. Alternate Title: Transmigrating into a High Martial World and Reading Live Comments. Bad news: I transmigrated. This is a terrifying high-martial world, and my original, pathetically weak body fell into a coma and never woke up. Good news: I got a Popularity Points system upon arrival. I can see live comments and even create an unkillable alternate identity. Starting out, the alternate identity has all stats at 1. The system tells me that to grow stronger, I must participate in the plot, gain popularity points to allocate stats and grow stronger, and ultimately awaken my original body. And so, carrying my original body on my back, I officially entered Huaqing Academy, where the story's protagonist resides. From that moment on, Chen Guan kicked the original plot to pieces. Live Comments: [Doesn't anyone find this mysterious coffin guy creepy? He can summon indescribable grey misty hands.] [Is this guy a hero or a villain? What kind of onion became a spirit?] [By the way, does anyone know who's in the coffin? Shouldn't the debt for saving his life be repaid by now?] [According to unofficial histories, the person in the coffin was Chen Guan's first love. Their love was once passionate and earth-shattering, but they were separated by life and death due to worldly circumstances. What a star-crossed pair.] ... Years later, the world knew of a demon god born from a coffin, shrouded in grey mist, impossible to gaze upon directly. His foremost divine emissary often wielded a scythe, reaping lives like the god of death. As war approached, facing former friends and a boundless sea of enemies, Chen Guan merely raised his scythe. "Would you like to dance as well?"
grated, and just when he finally managed to get into an elite academy, he discovered that he actually had a system, and the way to earn rewards was extremely ridiculous. So for the sake of rewards, he had no choice but to start acting ridiculous as well. Su Cheng: "It's nothing but system quests after all." But later, what confused Su Cheng was that while he was already quite ridiculous, he never expected those serious characters to gradually become ridiculous too. And the way they looked at him became increasingly strange... (This synopsis doesn't do it justice, please read the full story)
e bizarre and supernatural had descended. The previous emperor was a thoroughgoing tyrant; no longer satisfied with human women, he had set his sights on a stunningly beautiful supernatural entity. He met his end in his bedchamber, drained of all his vital essence. As the legitimate eldest son and crown prince, Wang Hao was thus hastily enthroned, becoming the young emperor of the Great Zhou Dynasty. No sooner had he awakened the "Imperial Sign-In Intelligence System" than he was assassinated by a Son of Destiny—a classic villain's opening. The Great Zhou, ravaged by the former emperor's excesses, was in national decline. The great families within its borders harbored their own treacherous schemes, martial sects began to defy the imperial court's decrees, and border armies, their pay and provisions in arrears, grumbled incessantly against the central government. Fortunately, the central capital was still held secure by the half-million Imperial Guards and fifty thousand Imperial Forest Army who obeyed the court's orders, along with the royal family's hidden reserves of power, barely managing to suppress the realm. As the Great Zhou's finances worsened and supernatural activities grew ever more frequent, the court sat atop a volcano. Ambitious plotters everywhere dreamed of overthrowing the dynasty, and even some reclusive ancient powers emerged, attempting to sway the tides of the world. At the first grand court assembly, the civil and military officials nearly came to blows, fighting tooth and nail over the allocation of fifty million taels of silver from the summer tax revenues. The spectacle opened Wang Hao's eyes—the Great Zhou's bureaucracy was not only corrupt but also martially proficient, a cabinet of all-rounders. Some officials even had the audacity to suggest the emperor release funds from the imperial privy purse to address the emergency. Wang Hao suddenly felt weary. Let it all burn.
