Chapter 88: Lab Rat
3 a.m.
Liang Zhi Che was woken by the knocking on the door.
Normally he could go ten days or half a month without sleeping, but idleness is idleness, and while browsing Tieba he ended up falling asleep.
Liang Zhi Che, bleary-eyed, opened the room door, and Jiang Ce, looking anxious, squeezed right in.
Liang Zhi Che yawned and closed the door, scratching his head in confusion as he asked: “Big Brother, what are you doing not sleeping so late?”
“Urgent matter, help me test out this new thing I just cultivated.”
Jiang Ce casually picked up the water from the bedside and drank it all in one go, a slight look of terror in his eyes.
Seeing that the matter seemed serious, Liang Zhi Che also grew solemn and said: “What did you cultivate this time?”
Jiang Ce stared straight at him, that gaze making the latter inexplicably uneasy.
“Daoist Qi.”
Hearing this, Liang Zhi Che’s sleepiness vanished completely. Although he vaguely knew that Jiang Ce had received four blessings in the Four Gods Hall and could cultivate four Great Daos, he still couldn’t help being astonished: “You cultivated Daoist Qi too? How to test it?”
“Just stand there, help me test if the Daoist Qi is really like the book says—making one feel like touching nature, like bathing in a clear breeze, dispelling disasters and avoiding calamities.”
“Uh, alright, standing here is fine, right? Good, I’m ready.”
“Don’t block with Righteous Qi, feel it with your heart.”
“Good, no problem.”
Jiang Ce closed his eyes and mumbled something under his breath. If Liang Zhi Che were closer, he could hear him cursing the direct and collateral female relatives of the Luocheng Ghost Disciples.
The next moment, a mass of turbid qi like smog spread out from Jiang Ce’s body.
For some reason, Liang Zhi Che always felt like this thing was baring its fangs and brandishing its claws at him.
He stood rigidly in place, not even daring to breathe, watching helplessly as this mass of turbid qi surged toward him.
He trusted Jiang Ce completely, so he really didn’t use Righteous Qi to block it, leaving himself completely undefended, wide open.
The instant the turbid qi engulfed him, Liang Zhi Che’s first sensation was suffocation—not the kind from the surrounding air being drained, but the kind from something inexplicable clogging his throat.
He clutched his throat desperately, his eyes bulging round, nearly popping out.
“Kah-cough. Stop. Big Brother stop!”
Jiang Ce opened his eyes and hurriedly withdrew his Daoist Qi.
Liang Zhi Che immediately felt a wave of nausea and, unable to control it, knelt on the ground vomiting violently, face flushed red.
But he felt like there was something in his throat, yet no matter how he retched, it was just dry heaves—like a phlegm stuck, or like spiciness surging to his throat but blocked, utterly unbearable.
If put vividly, it was like when the Daoist Qi engulfed him, someone stuffing a clump of wet, sticky hair from his mouth down to his stomach, and when the Daoist Qi withdrew, it was like pulling that clump of hair out along with his five viscera and six bowels all stirred together.
If put even more vividly—tentacles, corruption.
Jiang Ce squatted down, patting the back of Liang Zhi Che who was kneeling on the ground dry-heaving, and asked gently with anticipation: “How is it, did it feel like bathing in spring breeze?”
“I like to puke!!!”
Seeing him still vomiting, Jiang Ce hurriedly kept patting.
Until Liang Zhi Che weakly collapsed on the ground like a college student after running a thousand meters, barely able to catch his breath, then Jiang Ce stood up solemnly and sat on the bed:
“Tch, I said the quality was off, sure enough there’s a problem.”
“So… so you used me… used me as a lab rat, huh?”
Liang Zhi Che’s chest heaved violently; it was clear he was suffering greatly. When he spat out these words intermittently, his expression was ferocious.
“Can’t say it like that.” Jiang Ce sighed: “I just held onto a sliver of hope, thinking maybe it just looks a bit ugly, but the effect is the same.”
Liang Zhi Che wasn’t annoyed at being used as an experimental subject by Jiang Ce. He struggled to crawl up, squatting in the corner facing Jiang Ce, and said helplessly:
“That thing of yours is like smog, and on closer look it even has black light—how could it just be a matter of not looking good? Look at Martial Uncle Xuan Qing’s Daoist Qi, illusory and ethereal yet solid and natural—that’s proper Daoist Qi.”
“Makes sense.” Jiang Ce nodded seriously, then added: “But I’ve already cultivated it, what to do now.”
“This is another sorcery that Wei Lao taught you for hiding your identity?” Liang Zhi Che asked suspiciously.
Jiang Ce gave an “mm” and shifted all the blame to Wei Lao.
Earlier Xuan Qing had already explained it that way to everyone, meaning Wei Lao had noticed something and was intentionally covering for him, so for now there was nothing to worry about.
Anyway, Cao Gong and Wei Lao both valued one’s true heart more; someone as kind and cute as him could of course be forgiven even if a bit unorthodox.
This was also why Jiang Ce dared to openly test new things in front of Liang Zhi Che.
Moreover, using himself for experiments was too cruel; the psychological trauma from the Golden Bell Shield and Righteous Qi had been too great, and he didn’t want to go through a third time.
And facts proved he was right; from Liang Zhi Che’s reaction, he could roughly tell that his Daoist Qi was pretty deviant too.
Couldn’t say it didn’t resemble Daoist Qi at all, just that it was completely a different thing.
Jiang Ce felt some irritation, stood up, patted his butt, and prepared to leave.
“Alright, no problem now, you sleep early. I’ll close the door for you, thanks for the trouble, I’ve got it in mind.”
Liang Zhi Che, looking dazed, stared at the gastric fluid he had vomited onto the ground, smelled the strange odor permeating the air, and said with a bitter smile: “How am I supposed to sleep now?”
No sooner had he spoken than he clutched his mouth again and stumbled toward the bathroom.
“No way, this stuff is potent, that feeling’s back again, puke!!!”
Jiang Ce returned to his own room, utterly baffled.
Was it because he comprehended by putting “man follows nature” with man at the highest, so it went wrong?
But that shouldn’t be; if he cultivated wrong, he shouldn’t have cultivated anything at all—how could it turn out like this?
“Whatever, first use this Daoist Qi to practice the Golden Liquid Divine Elixir Compendium; anyway I’m used to it, and the final results are usually not too bad.”
Jiang Ce cast aside stray thoughts and began using spiritual energy to impact his spiritual platform, that is, the crown of his head.
According to the classic, cultivating this technique meant using spiritual energy to communicate with mental energy, converting between them endlessly.
Spiritual energy makes mental energy more abundant and resilient; mental energy makes spiritual energy more bizarre, variable, and lethal.
Cultivated to great completion, refine the soul into an elixir; body dies, soul endures; soul endures, and there’s always the possibility of rebirth.
Everything is hardest at the start; opening the spiritual platform is the most difficult part, and even Jiang Ce was no exception.
He gathered spiritual energy and impacted the spiritual platform again and again, yet always failed to break the barrier.
But as a former Buddhist Cultivator, what Jiang Ce lacked least was patience: once doesn’t work, try twice; twice doesn’t work, try thrice; today doesn’t work, try tomorrow; tomorrow doesn’t work, try the day after—success will come eventually.
It was just as dawn was breaking and the chickens kept in the courtyard began crowing that Jiang Ce finally opened his eyes.
The three hundred and sixtieth time—success!
Why?! Why is my writing so slow?! Why is Bilibili so addictive?! Why are games so fun?! Why can’t I write ten thousand words a day?!
