Starting to Gain Experience from Push-Ups-Chapter 1189 - 577: The True Master

"Have you contacted Uncle Lin, what did he say?"

"I did."

Lin Chuqiao sighed:

"He came to check, but Red Hair’s condition is really terrible, both his kidneys and liver are rapidly failing."

"Uncle Lin said, whether he can make it through tonight depends on the patient’s own willpower."

"If he still doesn’t wake up before dawn, we... have to be prepared for the worst."

"Got it."

Fang Cheng responded, his tone revealing no emotions.

To be honest, the importance he placed on the Fire Dragon wasn’t as significant as Lin Chuqiao imagined.

Indeed, the organization’s construction required a lot of money, and the wealth left by the Masked Guest was tempting.

But investing too much energy and even exposing himself to risks was obviously not worth it.

As for the location of the ancient civilization relics and how to enter, this guy may not really know either.

After a brief contemplation, he then instructed Lin Chuqiao:

"Try your best to save him. Tell those two black market doctors to use the best medicine, the best equipment, money is not an issue. If he can be saved, besides the labor remuneration we promised earlier, our Illuminati can pledge to protect their safety in East Capital."

"Okay, I will convey your words to the doctors."

Hearing this, Lin Chuqiao replied softly.

On the other end of the line, Fang Cheng’s eyes flickered slightly as he calculated in his heart.

The tasks that need to be done should still be done, and letting Fire Dragon just die shouldn’t be given up easily.

After all, this life is worth billions at least.

Rescuing him would naturally be best, but if not...

Then let the heavens decide.

The two of them chatted casually for a few more minutes about recent developments, from base progress to daily trivialities.

As they chatted on the phone, their tones gradually relaxed, and the tension from earlier slowly faded away.

Fang Cheng glanced at the time displayed on the phone screen, looking at the deep night outside the window, he said:

"Chu Qiao, it’s late, it’s almost midnight, go to bed early and don’t always stay up late, it’s bad for your skin."

Lin Chuqiao originally wanted to talk a bit more but was suddenly reminded by the words "bad for your skin."

"I almost forgot, I was just about to put on a facial mask and do some beauty care."

She touched her cheek subconsciously, her tone somewhat urgent:

"Brother Cheng, let’s not chat for now, I have a contract to review that needs to be handed over to the contractor tomorrow."

"Work matters can wait until tomorrow."

Fang Cheng’s tone softened, yet he firmly instructed:

"I don’t want to become a heartless boss that exploits employees."

These words were like a caring yet stern superior.

"I know, Boss."

Lin Chuqiao’s heart felt sweet, and she replied in a somewhat coquettish tone:

"Then you should also get some rest early."

"I’m going to sleep right now."

Fang Cheng replied.

"Hmm... then... good night?"

Lin Chuqiao’s voice carried a hint of longing, seemingly expecting more sweet talk.

"Good night."

After saying this, Fang Cheng swiftly and decisively hung up the phone.

.........

Far away in a luxurious apartment on the other end of the city.

Lin Chuqiao held her phone, listening to the busy tone from the receiver, lost in thought.

After a long time, she finally put down her phone, stepping barefoot onto the cashmere carpet, and walked slowly to the floor-to-ceiling window.

She gazed in the direction of Fang Cheng’s residence, her eyes filled with a multitude of tenderness, as well as lingering worries.

She then picked up the red wine on the table, pouring herself half a glass and gently swirling it.

Letting the rich aroma of the wine permeate the air.

"Brother Cheng, you always make people worry..."

Lin Chuqiao murmured softly, downing the red wine in her glass in one go, a charming flush spread across her cheeks.

After a long while, she returned to her seat, picking up the documents at hand.

But her enchanting eyes would occasionally glance out the window, unable to regain the concentration she had before.

.........

Old Factory Street, tubular building.

In the pitch-black bedroom, only the neon lights from outside outlined a faint silhouette.

Fang Cheng stood by the window, his brow slightly furrowed.

After putting down the phone, his gaze returned to the Evil Ghost Mask on the table.

The mask was now entirely crimson, like freshly congealed blood, somber and glaring.

Two curved horns protruded from the forehead, edged with fine ancient patterns, not like carvings, but as if they naturally grew there.

The corners of the mouth stretched into an exaggerated arc, extending all the way to the ears.

Inside, the fine sharp fangs glinted coldly, embedded into the dark mask texture, merging seamlessly.

Looking at the now tranquil crimson Evil Ghost Mask, Fang Cheng’s eyes gleamed as he muttered softly:

"Perhaps, I should change my name in the future, I can’t be called White Owl..."

As he spoke, he raised his hand to the mask’s surface, gently lifting it and fitting it back onto his face.

The mask’s edges perfectly aligned with his jaw, the cool touch adhering to his skin without any discord.

Then, Fang Cheng slowly raised his head, looking through the mask’s eye holes at the reflection in the glass opposite.

In the reflection, the crimson mask appeared as if it were his natural skin, covering his entire face, as if this was how it should be.

The ferocious features paired with the somber dark red emitted a suffocatingly violent aura.

That sense of oppression was far more intense than the previous white form.

However, the previous chaotic flood of consciousness and the invading illusions in his mind no longer appeared.

Fang Cheng remained calm, raised his hand to hold the mask’s sides, and gently took it off.

Then, his peripheral gaze swept over the pile of clown mask fragments on the floor.

At this moment, this strange object had long lost its glow, no different from any ordinary item.

A thought flitted through Fang Cheng’s mind, suddenly recalling the origin of the Evil Ghost Mask.

Back when he was at the Yong’an Island trench, using the deep-sea pressure to refine his body and cultivate Qigong.

He happened to encounter a rare atmospheric change, a sudden shift in ocean currents, the undercurrents in the sea surged.

It was then that he stumbled upon a group from the Noah Organization, dressed in special diving suits, diving into the sea.

With a clear goal, they aimed to salvage the ancient relics from the trench’s bottom.

This mask surged up with the undersea vortex, mingled with the broken ancient skeletons, and he brought it back casually.

Thinking of this, a bold conjecture vaguely formed in Fang Cheng’s heart.

Could it be that the bottom of that trench also hides an entrance to an unknown ancient civilization site?

Is this Evil Ghost Mask itself a strange artifact from an ancient relic?

Fang Cheng’s eyes slightly narrowed, recalling the rumors he had heard before.

Whether it was the Noah Organization’s executives or the Special Search Team’s members, they all mentioned a notorious, inhumane murderer—"White Owl."

In history, every appearance of this mask signified a bloody storm sweeping through the underground world,

In the records, those who donned this white Evil Ghost Mask would gain immense strength, but their temperament would also drastically change.

As they wielded this strength, they were gradually devoured by insatiable desires, ultimately becoming monsters that knew only slaughter, indifferent to good and evil.

Clearly, this mask is the link between its wearer and the Lord of Slaughter hidden behind it.

The so-called power is never a free gift, more like a net spreading everywhere, fishing for prey.

However, after putting it on, aside from the initial tightness, he didn’t experience any substantial effects.

Until tonight, he shattered another strange object, the "clown mask," revealing the mysterious creature parasitizing inside.

This Evil Ghost Mask then seemed to be fully activated, unable to resist the innate urge to slaughter, and consumed that mysterious creature entirely.

It was also because of this consumption that Fang Cheng was able to connect with the vast negative will hidden behind the mask.

If not for his adequately tough will, coupled with the Inner World as a mental fortress.

He might have also been corrupted by that will, enslaved by it, and ultimately become a monster like those mask wearers in history.

Now this mask hasn’t turned back to the white form, seemingly

"Perhaps, it’s not you choosing a person."

Fang Cheng muttered softly, his fingertips slowly tracing the crimson mask.

"But you are waiting for someone... who can truly master you."

He looked at the eye holes on the mask, flickering with a red glow, the corners of his mouth slightly curving up:

"As for the Lord of Slaughter, trying to use this mask to select a puppet, to be your Angel Envoy."

"Too bad, you picked the wrong person!"

The night wind sneaked through the half-opened window, ruffling his bangs.

Fang Cheng’s gaze burned like blazing flames, unruly and swaggering:

"My fists will only crush anyone who dares stand in my way, including you!"