Chapter Fourteen: A Turning Point

The convoy pressed on through the valley, moving toward the exit as if nothing at all had transpired. Those evil spirits, capable of destroying Shelter 364 and once turning it into an isolated prison, now cowered like turtles, hiding themselves away. The leading vehicle, armored in gold, radiated the awe-inspiring presence of a predator, suppressing the spirits to the point they dared not stir.

Fan Bei, engrossed in reviewing the contents of cultivation techniques, caught this scene again through the surveillance system atop the shelter’s gate, and confidence swelled within him. If they could subdue the evil spirits, so could he. The leader of the convoy, whom he had marked with the Good Person System, would not deceive him; as long as he cultivated to that level, he too could suppress the evil spirits haunting the valley. Then, at last, he would breathe the air of the outside world.

Bolstering his own resolve, Fan Bei swiftly skimmed through the skills, and discovered what he most urgently needed to master: the Exorcist Wolf Fist, a technique claimed to be self-created by Lang Sheng. The essence lay in focusing one’s spiritual intent into the fist, banishing all distractions, to unleash the mental strength honed through meditation, striking down the enemy in a single blow.

The skill comprised three realms: the first, “Guiding the Fist with the Heart, all evils revealed”; the second, “Where the eye sees, the fist reaches”; and finally, “Heart, eye, and fist united,” where, in the mind’s eye, only the structure of the evil spirit remained, and the fist would instinctively find its weakness, dispersing it. Cultivation began with each aspect—heart, eye, and fist—trained in tandem. If one reached the highest realm, he could dissect even a silver-class evil spirit with ease, like a master butcher slicing through meat.

Evil spirits were graded as Bronze, Silver, and Gold, each tier divided into three levels, while those below Bronze One were mere rabble, not even worthy of classification. The fist technique targeted the spirits’ weak points, allowing the weak to overcome the strong. The principle was to make a part of oneself exceptionally powerful, exploit the opponent’s vulnerabilities, accumulate small victories into a decisive reversal, and turn the tide with extreme maneuvering. Yet, as with all extreme maneuvers, many failed; only a rare few succeeded, their names remembered through history precisely because they were so scarce.

From the introduction, Fan Bei realized the technique suited his current needs perfectly. With it, he could achieve much by expending little. Compared to the System Father’s innate Wild Purification, this was a warrior’s approach—bold, yet precise—destroying the spirits’ structure rather than erasing all traces of their existence. Purification, by contrast, wiped every sign from the world, as if the evil had never existed. No wonder its cost was so great, ultimately outweighing its benefits.

Fan Bei had a reservoir of mental energy, about twenty points remaining; if he could kill his first evil spirit, he would replenish it. With enough mental strength, he believed System Father could directly help him master the skill, but for now, he could only focus on comprehending its mysteries.

Fortunately, the book provided convenience: originally, the technique’s description was vague, limited by personal ability, but now it included animated demonstrations, enabling Fan Bei to quickly grasp it. He did not aim for instant enlightenment, only for a method to defeat his foes.

Half a day passed, and noon of July 8 arrived with certainty. Fan Bei practiced diligently on a patch of open ground in the agricultural zone, each punch increasingly refined. The Exorcist Wolf Fist seemed to contain the wolf’s very aura; after only a few hours, his strikes carried a chilling ferocity, intimidating to behold.

His experience across two lifetimes and the fusion of souls gave him a spiritual focus surpassing most, and the foundation of the Nameless Meditation had long taught him to concentrate his intent—so his cultivation advanced swiftly. Whenever fatigue threatened, he spent a point of stored mental energy to restore himself.

With these advantages, by three in the afternoon, System Father’s reserve had fallen to ten points. Over five hours, Fan Bei had managed to attain basic proficiency in the fist technique. Though far from the first realm, according to its description, he could already destroy many lesser evil spirits. Lang Sheng himself had just completed the first major realm and was moving toward the second, able to easily handle Bronze level three spirits, and even Silver level one would not overwhelm him—though the outcome depended on luck; sometimes he devoured spirits, sometimes they devoured him.

After training, Fan Bei was increasingly convinced of the technique’s extraordinary power. Though Lang Sheng shamelessly claimed it as his own creation—and System Father confirmed it—Fan Bei suspected its true essence originated from entities within the evil tide, who best understood themselves.

Having mastered the basics, Fan Bei resolved to test his skill; time was slipping away. He recalled that Da Bai had used its “mysterious scent” to search for hidden evil in the agricultural zone. The hidden evils would be his ideal targets—weak, lurking, waiting for a chance to infest life.

Practicing in the agricultural zone, he turned his gaze toward the rows of glass racks, where crops grew lush and green. Since the last alarm, a few days had passed, and the plants had grown further; doubtless, some evil was sprouting anew.

Patiently, he began scanning the nearest row still bearing crops. His steps slowed, eyes fixed on each seedling, every tomato vine, and every leaf, as if seeking treasure among them.

His diligence paid off. In the middle of the second rack, he found a canola seedling turning gray-white. In two days, it would trigger the management system’s alarm.

He had studied the alarm’s principle: it measured abnormal changes in air composition within the cultivation tank. Evil spirits altered the air’s makeup, subtly different from normal.

With human technology, precise measurement of air components was long possible, so distinguishing anomalies was no challenge—though only in confined spaces; in broader areas, the margin of error was too great for meaningful results.

Fan Bei stared at the gray-white canola leaf, its green and gray intermingling into a unique tableau—strangely eerie, yet possessing a peculiar beauty. He opened the cultivation tank, forsaking high-temperature incineration and System Father’s purification, and instead aimed a punch at the leaf.

Immobile evil was the best beginner’s target—where others practiced against people, his opponent was a motionless leaf.

As the force of his punch swept over, before even touching the leaf, the gray-white aura recoiled as if meeting its nemesis, dissolving into a puff of blue smoke and vanishing.

Fan Bei immediately opened System Father: “Mental energy: 11 points.” It worked—a turning point! He had been down to ten points, now there was one more. Purification always consumed a point, but here, the situations diverged: purification erased the gray-white traces completely, while the fist transformed them into blue smoke.

He could finally earn mental energy—not just earn, but store it! If he struck eighty-nine more, he could last another day. In fact, counting his and Da Bai’s combined gains—4.2 points—he only needed to strike eighty-five.

It was not easy, but Fan Bei felt a relief like stepping into air conditioning on a sweltering day. At last, he need not fear that his dog system, created with nine thousand points of mental energy, would go to waste.

Though it now boasted only two functions—task guidance and upgrade points—it was a complete system, and could steadily enhance its host’s strength. Compared to the headline-grabber system he made before, this was a gulf: sky above, earth below.

Only those who have tasted despair know how to cherish. When he made it, nine thousand points seemed trivial; now he understood their preciousness. The difference between ten thousand in starting capital and ten thousand after success was as vast as heaven and earth.

Fan Bei quickly banished distracting thoughts, and turned his gaze once more to the other rows of glass racks.