Chapter 77: Compression (4)
77 – Compression (4)
Lin Xun asked Chang Ji, “What kind of thing could have these abilities?”
“Demons, ghosts, monsters, and evil spirits,” his senior brother replied.
Lin Xun: “Humans can’t?”
Senior brother: “Perhaps if they practice dark arts.”
Lin Xun: “So, they’re not good people?”
Senior brother: “If they are above the Nascent Soul Realm, they could.” He added a few more words, which was rare for him: “At the Nascent Soul Realm, one possesses a primordial spirit, capable of traversing thousands of miles in the blink of an eye.”
Lin Xun fell into thought.
He continued asking, “Then, senior brother, what is the key to advancing from Foundation Establishment to the Golden Core stage?”
Senior brother glanced at him: “Didn’t you just reach Foundation Establishment?”
Lin Xun blinked: “I’m just thinking ahead.”
He went on, “I’ve already learned how to compress spiritual power into a solid state, but I don’t know what to do next.”
Chang Ji said, “You’re close.”
Lin Xun knew he was close.
Before the system broke down, his progress bar for the Golden Core stage was stuck at ninety percent, but he lacked inspiration—the biggest obstacle to advancing his cultivation wasn’t a lack of knowledge but his insufficient grasp of language. He couldn’t effectively connect cultivation knowledge with coding knowledge.
He continued earnestly asking his senior brother.
“Compressing spiritual power into a golden core is an internal cultivation process,” his senior brother explained. “As for my breakthrough to the Golden Core stage, it actually happened during a battle.”
Lin Xun: “How so?”
“A strike at the Foundation Establishment level and one at the Golden Core level are worlds apart, yet they appear no different on the surface.”
Lin Xun: “A person at the Golden Core stage has an immense amount of spiritual power within them, so the power is greater… is that it?”
Chang Ji: “No.”
Lin Xun: “Then…”
Chang Ji: “I can’t tell you everything, or it would be no different from cheating.”
“Alright.” Lin Xun knew that cultivation emphasized personal enlightenment, so he said, “I’ll go back and think it over carefully.”
A moment of silence passed.
Lin Xun: “Senior brother.”
Chang Ji: “What?”
Lin Xun: “Qi Yun might be in trouble. Why aren’t we in a hurry?”
They were still walking at a leisurely pace, even exchanging cultivation insights.
Chang Ji: “If something really happened, it’s already too late.”
—Perhaps this was the mindset of a Buddhist cultivator.
As for Qi Yun, out there alone, unloved by his master and unmissed by his junior brother, no one even noticed he was missing. Due to factional conflicts, they didn’t dare to involve the seniors from the Immortal Sect. No swordsman could be more unfortunate than him.
Lin Xun: “I can only wish him good luck.”
Chang Ji didn’t respond, but after a minute or two, he spoke again: “Why are you covering your face?”
Hearing this, Lin Xun pulled his black mask up a little higher—the bustling area was crowded, and his photo had already gone viral online before. Now, with such a conspicuous Zhi Zhen by his side, he was afraid of being recognized.
The mask was a bit stifling and uncomfortable, but even so, it was just a small, sweet burden—if he weren’t with Dong Jun, he wouldn’t need to wear a mask. Comparing the two, he’d rather wear it.
He coughed and decided not to taint his senior brother’s Buddhist cultivation with talk of love, simply saying, “I have a bit of a cold.”
After talking all the way, they finally arrived at the building of Qi Yun’s talent agency.
The area was bustling, with many similar companies and some filming locations. Skyscrapers rose from the ground, but under the gloomy sky, their glass surfaces reflected a heavy layer of dark clouds.
Following the address on the official website, they arrived at Qi Yun’s company, named “Starry Culture Brokerage Co., Ltd.” The company specialized in cultivating young idols and was preparing to launch several promising candidates to participate in a highly popular youth group training program.
The receptionist at the front desk was quite beautiful, with delicate and refined features.
Lin Xun explained their purpose to her—they were looking for an artist named Qi Yun, the one who did rap.
The young woman eyed them suspiciously and asked, “May I ask what your relationship is with the artist?”
“I’m his older brother,” Lin Xun said, then pulled Chang Ji over. Since monks couldn’t lie, he spoke for Chang Ji: “And this is his cousin.”
The young woman continued softly, “Could you provide any documentation to prove your relationship?”
At the same time, Lin Xun keenly noticed the security guard at the entrance glancing their way a few more times. He realized something was off—he and Chang Ji were probably being mistaken for obsessive fans who had come to harass the artist. This girl might look pretty, but she wasn’t very bright. Did she really think anyone other than elementary school kids would be fans of someone like Qi Yun?
He took off his black mask, intending to reason with her properly.
The moment he removed it, the girl seemed to glance at him a few more times.
“We’re not bad people,” Lin Xun smiled at her, raising his phone to show his chat history with Qi Yun. Pretending not to see the screen full of “dad” and “son” messages, he said gently, “Look, we really know him. We’re even in the same family group chat.”
He then opened Qi Yun’s melancholic selfie-filled social media feed. “See, it’s him.”
The girl glanced at him a few more times and said, “Please wait a moment, sir.”
She then picked up the landline on the desk, seemingly communicating with a supervisor and inquiring about Qi Yun’s whereabouts.
Half a minute later, she frowned.
Hanging up the phone, she said to Lin Xun, “We haven’t been able to contact this artist for two days either.”
Lin Xun and Chang Ji exchanged a glance.
—Something really had happened.
What else could they do?
Investigate.
The company had a responsibility for the artist’s disappearance, but Qi Yun wasn’t a particularly well-known artist. The brokerage company didn’t make a big fuss, only assigning Qi Yun’s manager to assist them in the investigation. The manager, surnamed Xie, was in his thirties and wasn’t solely responsible for Qi Yun—he managed all the trainees in this batch.
Surveillance footage showed that Qi Yun’s behavior had been normal before, typical of a trainee—waking up early every day to practice dancing (though it was more like chaotic flailing), returning to his room to sleep every night, though how late he stayed up on his phone afterward was unknown.
The incident occurred two nights ago.
That night, the company experienced a power outage. At the time, Qi Yun was having dinner in the cafeteria with several fellow trainees.
After the power outage, most of the surveillance camera lines stopped working, so there was naturally no footage.
Twenty minutes later, when the power was restored, Qi Yun was nowhere to be found—he had vanished completely.
Manager Xie’s face turned pale, perhaps finally realizing the severity of the situation or maybe out of fear—a living person had just evaporated into thin air within the company.
He called in those trainees.
A baby-faced trainee said, “We were all on our phones waiting for the lights to come back on.”
A delicate and pretty trainee said, “He seemed to take a glow stick and went to the restroom.”
Another flamboyant trainee said, “He’s always been a bit odd; maybe he went to find inspiration.”
The last handsome trainee said, “He was absent-minded that whole day.”
Baby-face asked, “Could he have left the building?”
The flamboyant one replied, “That’s impossible. The restaurant is on the eleventh floor, and the elevator was out. Who in their right mind would go downstairs in the dark and slip out the door?”
Well, not exactly, Lin Xun thought to himself. Qi Yun’s mind did have a few holes in it. He glanced over their appearances and mused that every type of guy was represented here—so what was Qi Yun’s role in this team? To be the fool?
Lin Xun replayed the last two minutes of footage before the power outage over and over.
He asked, “What caused the power outage?”
Agent Xie replied, “It seems to be due to aging wiring.”
Lin Xun said, “The building is quite new, isn’t it?”
Agent Xie said, “Maybe it’s a bit of a shoddy construction project.”
Lin Xun: “…”
He played the footage back and forth about seventeen or eighteen times.
He said, “Let’s go take a look at the restaurant.”
Chang Ji asked, “Did you notice something?”
“Not really. I just think that with someone like Qi Yun, you can’t use logic to predict his behavior patterns,” Lin Xun said. “I need to go to that scene and put myself in his shoes.”