C18 Illusionary Divine Book

"Ugh, the way this guy reacts is just beyond words. Everything he says seems to twist the original meaning."

Filled with indignation and disdain, he shook his head in resignation and hastily tucked the book back into his pocket.

It was a good thing he had stowed the book away when he did; otherwise, wrapping things up smoothly would have been a challenge.

In that moment, Jing Chong turned around with a serene composure, only to be met with Nie Haiyuan's broad forehead and a pair of eyes brimming with innocent curiosity.

"Did your skin toughen up? How old is this kid to be having that kind of physical reaction?" Despite the composed look from Jing Chong, Nie Haiyuan's mouth contorted almost to his nose. But after a brief attempt at feigning sophistication, his curiosity got the better of him, and he leaned in closer.

"What's the deal? Is your skin growing as fast as Zou Cang's? But don't worry, it's a normal part of puberty. I'm just curious, though. What does it feel like?"

Jing Chong's face, not exactly fair to begin with, flushed with embarrassment, then turned a shade paler. His lips quivered, and after what seemed like an eternity, he weakly rolled his eyes, never engaging with Nie Haiyuan's probing.

"Why so bashful? Everyone in our tenth unit has their secrets, and we all know it. Look at Zou Cang; he may act coy like a lady every day, but he's pretty open about this stuff. I hope you can face reality with the same openness and share the burden. After all, we're all guys here!"

Nie Haiyuan's skin was not just thick; he was an outright freak. It was baffling how someone so young could know so much. Jing Chong had no intention of stooping to his level. He shot Nie Haiyuan a glare, remained silent, and without further explanation, stood up and headed for the door.

"Hey, this kid is no fun at all, getting mad over a joke. Go ahead and leave, but don't forget we've got the night shift later!"

Nie Haiyuan grumbled to himself, puzzled, but didn't forget to call out one last reminder before collapsing back onto his bed and blissfully falling back to sleep.

Jing Chong stepped out of the dormitory and finally let out a sigh of relief, feeling as though a great weight had been lifted. He couldn't help but think that he truly didn't fit in here; surrounded by rascals, hooligans, and scum. It's no surprise that people say there's not a single good thing about bandits. This time, he was thoroughly convinced.

With this in mind, he resolved never to associate with such people. His decision firmly in place, Jing Chong no longer hesitated. He skirted a wooded area and crouched between some secluded rocks.

Once he was certain he was alone, Jing Chong eagerly pulled out the beast skin book he had been carrying and began to read with relish. The text was still challenging, swirling before his eyes like indecipherable symbols, but not a single word managed to penetrate his mind.

Yet, in that moment, the words that had once seemed so glaring now lost their harshness, replaced by a sense of inexplicable familiarity that drew him in. His eyes locked onto the first page, the circles and dots on it blurring and then coming to life, gathering and dispersing over and over. He lost track of time as his vision was enveloped in whiteness. As the blankness grew clear and solid, he was transported, almost without realizing it, into a wondrous and familiar world.

In this realm of azure seas and skies, where water and sky merged seamlessly, not a single dark cloud marred the view. The world was bathed in a refreshing shade of blue. As Jing Chong gazed upon it, he felt an immense sense of relaxation and expansiveness, as if his heart could encompass the universe and embrace all within it.

He indulged in the tranquility, a sense of unprecedented warmth and harmony flowing through him like a gentle stream. The light breeze caressed his skin with tender strokes, tickling and tingling, lulling him towards sleep.

Water, the wellspring of life, made this world teem with vitality. This vast ocean could indeed be called the source of life. A sudden insight washed over him as if someone were whispering the secrets of existence in his ear. He listened intently, captivated. Although he didn't understand the full benefit of these revelations, Jing Chong could sense that in this serene atmosphere, his heart was exceptionally peaceful and still.

The delightful sensation enveloped him, and he closed his eyes tightly, allowing the cool, damp feeling to cover him completely. It was only when he was fully immersed that he gradually returned to his senses.

"The essence of life springs from water! It seems like such a basic truth. Why then am I so intent on delving into it?" Jing Chong mused.

But when he regained his senses and sought to grasp that peculiar world once more, it had vanished. As time slipped by, the damp, cool sensation that had enveloped him concentrated in his lower abdomen and then faded away entirely.

He was left with a sense of having gained something precious, only to lose it. Jing Chong couldn't help but mock himself silently. Resigned to reality, he slowly opened his eyes to the familiar mountain forest, yet his bright eyes betrayed a deep reluctance to let go of his fleeting discovery.

The disappearance of that marvelous sensation brought a touch of disappointment, but the aftertaste lingered, sweet and unfinished. With this aftertaste, Jing Chong felt he had indeed gained something valuable. Some things, after all, cannot be forced; it's often best to go with the flow.

With this thought, he reflected further and suddenly experienced an inexplicable comfort spreading from his lower abdomen throughout his body, invigorating even his flagging spirits.

Could this be the benefit of the beast skin book?

Revisiting his experience, Jing Chong once again credited the beast skin book for this newfound advantage, while his mind raced with speculation.

Could it be that the book was neither a textbook nor a history book, but an authentic manual of cultivation techniques?

For the first time, Jing Chong questioned his assumptions about the book, but he quickly dismissed his own wild conjectures.

If it truly were a manual of cultivation techniques, how could an ordinary person like himself so easily discern its esoteric wisdom? Moreover, he didn't believe that his recent insight was anything profound; it was merely the simplest of truths, one that seemed novel only because of his limited knowledge and experience.

He recalled hearing that mastering a cultivation technique manual required exceptional talent. Even with such talent, unraveling the secrets of complex principles was no small feat. Cultivation demanded a strong foundation, built through persistent practice in the heat of summer and the cold of winter, over years or even decades. The term "kung fu" itself originated from this concept, signifying that only through dedicated effort could one achieve mastery.

A rural youth like him, barely literate, supposedly cultivating into an unparalleled master solely from an unrecognizable book? Anyone hearing such a tale would dismiss it as pure fantasy or utter nonsense.

Moreover, even if fortune did occasionally fall from the sky, he doubted it would ever land on someone as chronically unlucky as himself.

Shaking his head in self-derision, Jing Chong quickly banished those fanciful notions. It was clear that searching for shortcuts was futile. His immediate concern had to be the steady practice of his cultivation technique. At the very least, he needed to build up his physical strength. Only with a robust physique could he stand tall and proud before others.

With that in mind, he dismissed the peculiar sensations he had previously experienced. Once the refreshing feeling had faded from his abdomen, he was left with an inexplicable soreness and heaviness—a clear sign that what he had felt was nothing more than an illusion straddling the line between reality and fantasy, likely a byproduct of his recent harrowing experiences.

After thoroughly negating his earlier hypotheses, Jing Chong still couldn't rationalize the advantages that the mysterious beast-skin book had afforded him. Left with no other choice, he took an innovative approach to categorize it.

After much deliberation and careful word selection, he boldly named it the "Illusionary Divine Book."

Jing Chong had his reasons for such a name. "Illusion" referred to an imagined world, and "Divine" suggested a spiritual illusion that could envelop a person in a mysterious, fantastical realm. Ultimately, it was a vessel into which one could pour all their discontent into this make-believe world.

In his own terms, it was essentially a way to alleviate one's mental stress.

For the time being, it seemed he would have to rely on this method to make sense of the bewildering, unanswered questions.