Starting to Gain Experience from Push-Ups-Chapter 1183 - 574_2

Fang Cheng previously chose to refuse, burdened with concerns.

Simply because he detested being bound, disliked the open and covert struggles within the bureaucratic system, and was even more reluctant to hand over his secrets and life to others’ control.

But now, things have changed dramatically.

Fang Cheng’s gaze withdrew from the mask and fell onto his open palm.

Recalling the situation a month ago when discussing with Shi Chengyi at West Mountain Cemetery.

His current strength has undeniably reached new heights, granting him greater initiative in mastering his own destiny.

Meanwhile, the ever-closer external threat urges him to make a decision swiftly.

To ensure the safety of his family, preventing them from being harmed by enemies.

He has deliberately made some arrangements, like letting Big Hammer and Monkey set up a surveillance network in Wanghu Town and Old Factory Street.

Yet this protection, when facing true behemoths, is as fragile as a piece of window paper that can be punctured with a tap.

Facing the military, Special Search Team, or opponents of "Ideal Land" caliber.

The so-called surveillance network can at most serve as an early warning.

Only buying him a bit of negligible reaction time, far from forming effective defensive means.

What Fang Cheng really needs is a sufficiently sturdy "shell," a legitimate identity backed by official endorsement.

This identity can become a firewall.

Isolating the name "Fang Cheng" from the bloody past of "White Owl" and the secrets of Silver Wing Building, along with any potential future overwhelming storms.

An official guise, even if false, can muddy the waters.

If someone follows clues and investigates him, harboring suspicions.

An official identity from the Special Search Team’s golden signboard can somewhat make the counterpart hesitant, pausing a moment. 𝚏𝕣𝕖𝚎𝚠𝚎𝚋𝚗𝐨𝐯𝕖𝕝.𝕔𝐨𝕞

It’s this momentary hesitation that can afford him sufficient reaction time to conceal his identity and fill loopholes.

Just like when facing "Ghost Scythe" in the abandoned building, Fang Cheng deliberately leaked news of cooperation with the Special Search Team, sending the "secret" out intentionally.

Using this false intelligence, successfully directing Ideal Land’s focus towards the Special Search Team, gaining more leeway for himself.

Fang Cheng’s lips slightly curled, a glimmer of calculation flickering in his eyes.

By then, Ideal Land discovering he indeed entered the Special Search Team, becoming an official member.

Would undoubtedly further corroborate this false intelligence, making them more cautious and hesitant, less likely to act rashly.

And beyond his family’s and his own safety, the newly founded "Illuminati" is now merely a seedling needing his personal shelter.

This fledgling organization offers him extremely limited support.

Conversely, it requires him as the leader to continuously devote energy, spending effort to manage it.

Both he himself and all members of Illuminati need a period of stable development.

If he could join an official organization, this stability would be bolstered with the strongest guarantee.

Moreover, joining the Special Search Team offers him far more than mere shelter.

Fang Cheng’s gaze was solemn, with his father’s long-blurred face in his memory resurfacing in his mind.

To uncover the cause of his father’s death, to uncover the core of "Ideal Land," he needs a massive amount of intelligence support.

The Special Search Team, as Xia Country’s top institution handling extraordinary events, is undoubtedly the nation’s largest intelligence center.

Its archive must hide all the answers he seeks.

This is a domain unreachable by him as an individual.

As for Ma Donghe’s mention of applying to the "Medical Team."

This proposal, meticulously crafted by Ma Jianguo and Shi Chengyi, struck all his concerns and unlocked the final shackle in his heart.

The Medical Team, under the logistics department, is far from the vortex center of power struggles.

It doesn’t require charging into battle, placing oneself in unpredictable danger.

At the same time, it’s a perfect disguise identity.

An "expertly skilled" logistics personnel, by no means, would pique the interest of the Martial Artist-repulsed Director Ling.

He can comfortably wear this "harmless" guise, enjoying the welfare resources offered by the state, using the convenience of his position to delve into the secrets he wants to know.

Even, he could consider exploiting the task system of the Special Search Team to actively engage with those dangerous but controllable extraordinary events, turning them into instances to hone his skills.

Work, slack off, grind experience, earn a salary, and even get full insurance benefits.

It is practically the perfect career tailored for him.

As for the so-called rules and constraints?

Fang Cheng’s lips curled slightly, forming a cold arc.

When your strength is overwhelmingly powerful enough to crush the rules, you become the rules.

Ma Jianguo and Shi Chengyi, all they see is a freakishly talented Martial Arts prodigy.

They hope he becomes the banner of martial arts revival.

But they don’t know, Fang Cheng never wanted to revive any martial arts.

Martial arts is merely a tool for him to achieve his goals.

What he truly wants is to stand at the pinnacle of this world, holding all destinies firmly in his grasp.

Joining the Special Search Team is not compromise or submission.

But a deeper "role play," a higher level of "hunting."

A ultimate game with the nation’s violent machinery as the stage and extraordinary powers worldwide as prey.

Thinking of this, the last bit of hesitation in Fang Cheng’s heart also vanished into smoke.

He reached out, his palm sliding across two cold masks.

Finally, his fingers paused on the red clown mask, giving it a gentle flick.

Clang—

A sound like metal clashing rang out in the dark bedroom, its echo lingered.

Outside the window, the moon was high, casting its silver glow.

Further away, towering skyscrapers wrapped in neon hues, seemingly giants roosting on the dark ground.

Within Fang Cheng’s eyes, beneath the tranquil deep pond, a golden flame seemed to ignite, ready to consume all.

Though the night was deep, the whole tubular building appeared devoid of voices, especially quiet.

Having made his decision, his mind at ease, a wave of fatigue washed over him.

Fang Cheng stood up, stretched lazily, preparing to freshen up in the washroom before going to bed.

Yet, just as he turned, his peripheral vision caught a subtle disturbance.

He slowly turned back, his gaze once again landing on the desk.

Only to see the red clown mask he just flicked now exuding a faint, elusive glow.

It was not moonlight reflecting.

Rather, it was an eerie light alternating its brightness, breathing out from within.

The mask’s bright red base no longer seemed painted, but transformed into something alive.

A thick, blood-like liquid was slowly writhing beneath the mask’s surface, flowing freely.

Making that exaggerated smile appear increasingly sinister.

"Hehehe..."

A barely perceptible, childlike giggle, completely unexpectedly, echoed from deep within his mind.

The laughter was filled with malice and greed, as if cold little hands were attempting to touch his soul.

Fang Cheng’s gaze remained calm.

He did not retreat, but instead sat back down, leaning slightly forward.

With a deliberate and curious coolness as though examining prey, meticulously observing the changes on the mask.

Fang Cheng knew full well.

That seemingly casual flick, in reality, with his current strength and fingertip hardness, was sufficient to effortlessly pierce a hole in an ordinary mask.

Yet this mask remained unscathed, seemingly awakening some dormant consciousness.

Fang Cheng concentrated intently, pondering slightly.

Therefore, he once again extended his index finger, slowly reaching toward the "bleeding" mask.

The touch at his fingertip was not the cold and hard sensation of plastic or plaster.

Rather, it was a warm, soft, and even slightly pulsating flesh-like feeling.

Fang Cheng’s eyes flashed slightly, heart tightened.

In the next second, upon contact, a sudden change occurred!

The red liquid flowing on the mask seemed to finally find a channel to pour into, suddenly "gushing" from the point where his fingertip touched.

Immediately after, like a red snake sprung to life, swiftly climbing along Fang Cheng’s finger towards his arm.