Chapter 1967: Mathematical Bliss (23)

"Brilliant!"

It turned out there was a reason he was part of the Brotherhood's leadership.

Just as Fu Qian had expected, Old Man Yin-Yang Hair spat out his broken teeth. Not only did he forgo a counterattack, he even stood his ground and clapped.

"It looks like you've really brought something interesting. Waiting here specifically for you wasn't a waste," he said.

He hadn't even wiped the blood off his face. His tone carried the uninhibited spirit of casually arousing youthful wildness.

Even his crisp enunciation made it clear he wasn't just trying to save face; genuine excitement was driving him.

It wasn't surprising. Pushing things to the absolute limit within a confined scope was the very core of this kind of performance art.

The Brotherhood's incense hall might be incredibly precious, but having it ravaged by an intruding traitor was an even rarer twist of fate.

Fu Qian didn't believe all this fell within the old man's expectations. After all, before the actual performance, no one would overestimate their own level of insanity to such a degree.

But the old man's mind clearly wasn't completely rigid—he had still managed a brilliant on-the-spot response.

In this regard, Brother Thick Eyebrows—who had taken a Horun Censer to the mouth—fell somewhat short.

Since the censer had caught him right across the bridge of his nose, he was only just now managing to recover. Tears were already visibly streaming down his face.

"Break both his legs first... then we'll talk about what comes next..."

Of course, his miserable state didn't detract from Brother Thick Eyebrows's domineering declaration.

As he spoke, he violently threw open his cloth robe, drew a weapon that resembled both a blade and a club from his leg, and charged over with an even fiercer glare.

...

"Very good. Very energetic."

It was hard to say whether the old man's or Brother Thick Eyebrows's response was more karmically fitting.

But Fu Qian was clearly satisfied with the suddenly lively atmosphere.

Without making any more pointlessly destructive moves, he simply sat right down and offered his critique with a gratified expression.

"Don't worry, it'll get even more energetic."

By this point, Brother Thick Eyebrows was already upon him. He only sneered at the commentary, revealing the bandit-like side of a jianghu disciple.

Old Man Yin-Yang Hair didn't react to this. He stood in place without changing his expression, showing absolutely no intention of stopping this conflict in the incense hall.

Thud—

In the next instant, the weapon in Brother Thick Eyebrows's hand ruthlessly struck Fu Qian's left knee.

The peculiar sound effect happened because, although the weapon had a thin edge along one side, its overall shape was essentially a club.

Rather than a slash, it was more like a whipping strike from a blunt instrument. His threat to break legs was quite fitting.

However, the leg didn't completely break.

While sitting down, his legs were naturally easy targets to lock onto, but the incoming swing was just as predictable.

At the exact moment the weapon struck, Fu Qian's hand was already waiting and grabbed it firmly.

"That's it?"

Naturally, Brother Thick Eyebrows wasn't about to just let go of his weapon, and a struggle of strength ensued.

But just as the initial assessment had pointed out, this man was indeed somewhat frail. A pure contest of strength couldn't generate much pressure.

In contrast, the pressure Fu Qian exerted was on an entirely different level.

This wasn't because his body was inhumanly strong, but rather due to his previous actions.

What a true underworld boss feared most was always a single-minded teenager.

Unlike everyone else who relied on knowing when to stop to give each other face, the latter truly struck without any restraint.

And in this regard, Fu Qian's track record was clearly verifiable.

Facing someone who had killed a person less than an hour ago, any harsh words would only seem pale and powerless.

Soon, while locking eyes with Fu Qian, Brother Thick Eyebrows yielded. He let go of the weapon so his chest could stay as far away from the sharp edge as possible.

...

'Hmph. Daring to mix in the underworld with so little courage.'

Without even changing his posture or glancing at his injured leg, Fu Qian played with the weapon that had just changed hands. He merely used the pain radiating from his knee to perceive his own existence.

One of the reasons he chose to respond this way was that other methods were no longer reliable enough.

The self-withering caused by the Mind Beast Punishment was definitely no empty talk.

In just a brief moment, the effort required to forcibly maintain normal actions had already grown exponentially.

Besides, pain wasn't a pleasant sensation, but it was indeed a cheap and reliable way to perceive oneself.

Clang—

Casually sending another censer flying with a flick of his wrist, Fu Qian didn't utter a word. He merely looked at the mess scattered across the ground.

Sure enough, he could no longer observe any changes.

Just as he had noted earlier, from the moment his own censer had been smashed against the floor and he felt the intense mental suppression, the once-illusory images in the Great Hall had gradually faded from his eyes.

By now, they were completely imperceptible. All that remained was a chaotic haze of smoke.

Fu Qian, who was extremely curious about its origins, felt a deep pang of regret for a moment.

There had to be a reason for this phenomenon's appearance. Why would the smoke from so many censers gather into a single pattern? Why did he feel suppressed the moment his own censer was destroyed and he was no longer part of it?

Judging by Old Man Yin-Yang Hair's explanation, it seemed that if he just walked out of this place, he wouldn't feel any more discomfort.

So where did this special power actually come from, and what did it foreshadow?

Unfortunately, not only could he no longer see that bizarre outline, but in the next second, even the smoke in his vision began to turn abstract.

Fu Qian knew that his human-level observational abilities were rapidly deteriorating. The window of opportunity for action seemed to have passed—even the window for escaping.

Although the door wasn't far away, with his current legs, he couldn't have left quickly even if he wanted to.

"Very good. Half the time has already passed. So far, no more than three people have managed to achieve this.

"Also, from the experiences they've shared... remember not to fall asleep, and more importantly, don't forget what the light is."

At this moment, Old Man Yin-Yang Hair thoughtfully offered a reminder, indicating that he only needed to hold out for the remaining half of the time, and even shared the experiences of his predecessors.

'Don't forget the light?'

It was hard to say how much goodwill this reminder held, but how could Fu Qian care about such minor details? His mind instantly began processing the meaning behind the words.

First of all, it seemed obvious that what he was currently experiencing wasn't some custom-tailored torture, but a common ordeal everyone faced.

It was standard enough that people had even compiled their experiences from it—experiences very similar to how he had previously escaped the Inhuman Samsara.

"So out of those three people, has anyone ever completed it?"

Genuinely accepting the advice, Fu Qian expended the effort to imagine a ray of glassy Bright Light in his consciousness and tried his best to maintain it while simultaneously asking his question.

"No. Perhaps you can give it a try."

Unfortunately, the old man's reply was pessimistic. It sounded as if no one had ever fully endured this punishment—but it did seem like a worthy challenge.

In the next moment, however, a different judgment surfaced in Fu Qian's mind.

As he embraced the advice about the "light," the ever-deepening sense of mental suppression actually paused briefly.