Time lost all meaning here. After some unknown amount of time, perhaps hours, perhaps longer, Xiàng Yáng sat there blankly, trying to sort through his chaotic thoughts.
Suddenly, without any warning, the System interface, which had been silent for so long, proactively appeared in his mind!
It was still the same simple transparent light screen, but the text on it had changed:
[Detected high-intensity energy suppression environment]
[Adapting…]
[Basic Skill "Basic Combat Skills" is in a semi-sealed state]
[Hidden energy "Primordial Annihilation" has been triggered, in a deep seal state]
[New Mission Issued: Survive Against All Odds]
[Mission Requirement: Under the "Nether Prison" suppression field, initially restore the use of "Basic Combat Skills".]
[Mission Hint: True mastery comes from willpower, not environment. The force field is also a whetstone.]
[Mission Reward: ???]
Xiàng Yáng’s eyes snapped wide open, his heart pounding fiercely!
The System was finally responding! And it mentioned "Primordial Annihilation"? Was that the name of that black energy?
More importantly, it had actually issued a mission! Requiring him to regain the use of Basic Combat Skills in this environment!
"Willpower… whetstone…" Xiàng Yáng muttered to himself, a spark of light rekindling in his eyes.
Yes, he couldn't just give up.
Although the System was a scam, it at least gave him a direction and hope.
If he couldn't even adapt to and overcome this initial suppression field, how could he possibly hope to control the dangerous "Primordial Annihilation"?
How could he survive in this mysterious and dangerous organization and control his own destiny?
Taking a deep breath, Xiàng Yáng struggled to stand up from the bed, ignoring the heavy pressure all over his body. He adopted a combat stance and began to practice the most basic punching and kicking movements.
Every movement became incredibly difficult, like punching in deep water, with immense resistance, and consuming several times more stamina than in the outside world. After just a few simple straight punches and kicks, he was already drenched in sweat, panting heavily.
But he didn't stop. He recalled the feeling from his previous test, reciting in his mind again and again: "I can do it! I can channel power! My willpower surpasses the environment!"
At first, his movements were still stiff and slow, completely lacking any power.
But gradually, as his focus intensified and his willpower coalesced, the feeling of his body and mind connecting seemed to return a little.
Although the warm current was still suppressed to the point of being almost imperceptible, his movements seemed to become slightly smoother, his speed slightly faster.
This minuscule progress gave Xiàng Yáng immense encouragement.
He practiced tirelessly, repeating the simplest and most tedious movements, sweat soaking through his clothes, his muscles aching as if pricked by needles, but he gritted his teeth and persisted.
In the absolute silence and solitude of the Nether Prison, Xiàng Yáng began his arduous struggle against the suppression field, embarking on the first step towards truly understanding and attempting to control his own power.
Little did he know, behind a hidden observation node in the Nether Prison, the Masked Woman stood quietly, observing his repeated, futile yet persistent attempts through a special monitoring formation.
Underneath her cold metallic mask, no one could see her expression, only in her exposed eyes, a faint, almost imperceptible ripple flashed.
And in a higher-level conference room, the debate about how to deal with Xiàng Yáng had just begun. The Legion Commander advocated for strict monitoring and extreme measures if necessary;
The Grand Elder believed guidance and observation were appropriate, as the emergence of "Primordial Annihilation" might hold some turning point; Dr. Luo frantically applied for research authority; Qín Shūyuè remained silent, contemplating something unknown.
Xiàng Yáng's fate was still undecided. But his struggle and effort had already cast a stone that could not be ignored into the depths of this underground organization, stirring ripples.
…
Time returned to before Xiàng Yáng entered the "Nether Prison".
Fatty and Zhào Sījiǎn had been waiting for a long time, but as time ticked by, no one appeared.
Their patience gradually wore thin, and finally unable to suppress their anxiety, they decided to go look for Qín Shūyuè together.
The two came to Qín Shūyuè's flower shop, thinking they would find her there, only to discover a puppet clone of hers inside.
Although this puppet clone looked exactly like Qín Shūyuè, it was clearly just a soulless shell and could not answer their questions.
Unable to find Qín Shūyuè herself, Fatty and Zhào Sījiǎn did not dare to venture to her second floor lightly.
After all, Qín Shūyuè was known for her pranks, and no one knew where she might have set traps or when she might suddenly appear to startle them.
It could even be said that Qín Shūyuè's entire second floor was like an unknown maze, full of hidden dangers and surprises.
And the trigger points for the traps were like eyes hidden in the dark, constantly watching the every move of intruders.
During their wait, Fatty and Zhào Sījiǎn had also tried sending messages and calling Qín Shūyuè, but the results were as Fatty had predicted earlier – all messages vanished into thin air, receiving no response.
Helpless, they could only decide to wait at the flower shop for Qín Shūyuè's return, hoping she would appear as soon as possible.
They waited until nightfall.
When they finally met Qín Shūyuè, they also received the news that Xiàng Yáng had entered the "Nether Prison".
At the same time, Fù Zhīxián also noticed that Xiàng Yáng was missing.
…
Sweat dripped down Xiàng Yáng's jawline, splashing tiny droplets on the cold metal floor.
His chest heaved violently, each breath like pulling a bellows, the air he inhaled carrying the unique sluggishness of the force field, as if his lungs had to work extra hard to expand.
The muscle soreness had long since progressed from needle pricks to a continuous burning sensation, each punch and kick accompanied by tearing pain.
The suppression field was like an invisible deep sea, firmly imprisoning him at the bottom.
Here, time lost its flow, leaving only endless fatigue and a seemingly unending struggle.
He didn’t know how long he had been practicing; perhaps only half an hour, perhaps more than half a day had passed. There were no windows in the Nether Prison, only a few unchanging dim wall lamps emitting a cold light. The meal delivery time had not yet arrived, making it impossible to judge the time.
"Willpower… whetstone…" Xiàng Yáng gritted his teeth, treating the System's prompt as his only lifeline, chewing on the words repeatedly in his mind.
He cast aside all distracting thoughts, no longer pondering the dangerous "Primordial Annihilation," no longer worrying about his future destiny, not even cursing the unfairness of his circumstances.
His entire spirit was focused on each simplest movement – straight punch, cross, side kick, block.
The movements were still slow and heavy, devoid of any power. But he could feel, extremely subtly, that when his mind reached a certain critical point of concentration,
that deeply suppressed, faint warm current belonging to "Basic Combat Skills" seemed to stir for an extremely short moment, like a stream under thick ice, surging with great difficulty beneath the ice for a fleeting instant.
This momentary stir gave him the motivation to persist.
He no longer pursued power or speed in his movements but the pure feeling of "mind driving the body, body feeding back to the mind."
He imagined the force field not as an obstruction, but as a heavy hammer tempering a piece of raw iron, and his willpower as the iron core constantly adjusting and condensing under the heavy blows.
Repetition, tens of thousands of repetitions.
Monotonous, painful, desperate repetition.