Panda would never be able to work out why not getting an author update was already maddening enough on its own, and then on top of it he had to get punched.
Was this bet a bad idea from the very start...
But when he saw the Third Brother who had hit him turn and start hitting the sandbag, Panda began counting himself lucky that the punch to his face had been such a light one.
The guy didn't wrap his hands or wear gloves; he just threw one punch, and the fifty-kilo plastic sandbag sailed up high like a weightless leather bag.
And after the punch he actually shouted, "This thing's way too light."
Over on the other side, Zhong Yi's face looked like he'd just eaten shit.
Let's see... I probably don't weigh much more than that sandbag, maybe twice it at most, right? If I really took a punch like that, how high would I fly?
The sandbag came swinging back. Third Brother clearly had no experience either; he just threw another punch straight out, missed the sweet spot, and the bag spun and slammed into his face with a thud.
Panda couldn't help flinching at the sight.
But Third Brother took it square, a faint golden light seemed to flicker, and he just clutched his nose, rubbed it, and went on grunting and huffing as he stepped up to punch again, still saying, "It's a little light, sure, but I'll train with it for now..."
Panda cautiously went back to playing Warcraft.
No wonder his power is invulnerability. Even Third Brother himself probably isn't this savage. I'd better never cross this one.
And this guy didn't stop at punching, either — barbells and every other muscle-building station, he went through them all without skipping one, and afterward he still went up to the rooftop to work the stakes. Only the mental training he skipped... though of course, what does a meathead like that need mental training for? Either way, that diligent training attitude could put the whole Black House to shame.
It's fine. It's not like I never worked that hard myself. Wan Zijun was even more gung-ho at the start, and within days everyone was lying flat. Totally normal...
Chu Ge didn't know how long his own enthusiasm would last. So far it felt about the same as those days practicing at home — apart from having to ride the scooter over, there wasn't much difference.
It wasn't that he didn't train his mind; it was that after looking the place over, he felt the Black House's methods of mental training were of little use to him. Qiu Wuji's soul-forging method was the thing truly suited to him.
The results looked slow, but slow was fine. As long as it worked.
The stake rig on the rooftop, though, was a good thing — electric stakes, and they moved. You could practice your footwork up on the stakes, or practice dodging them from below.
Zhong Yi said dodging and running away were the first subjects an esper must study, yet in the whole Black House the only one who trained that way was Chu Ge.
"A subject you must study — so why don't you train it?" Chu Ge asked Zhong Yi.
"Because I don't feel pain."
"You can still die, though."
"I want to try it too — to see whether, the one time I don't dodge in time, I'll die."
Chu Ge had no answer to that.
The days that followed settled into a routine. Besides writing every day, Chu Ge came to the Black House to train whenever he had time, and when he was free he went home to tease Qiu Wuji.
It felt much the same as those office workers who clock in nine to five and hit the gym in the evening.
In the shower, looking at himself in the mirror, Chu Ge was sometimes lost in a daze.
His muscles were starting to show some definition... By rights it hadn't been long; results shouldn't come this fast. Is it because I've been circulating the Golden Bell Shield alongside it?
Does the technique tune my muscles to their optimal state?
The guy in the mirror looks handsome. Looks sharp...
Is that really me?
Yes. This is the me I became after Qiu Wuji came into my life.
Qiu Wuji rarely came to the Black House; occasionally she'd go along with him, and once there she'd just stand to one side and watch, training nothing. Most of her time she hid in the apartment reading books, binge-watching shows, hanging out in the group chat, moderating the book's reviews, and researching recipes to cook.
Seeing that lazy little figure leaning back against the couch watching TV, still hugging her little pig pillow, you'd never guess there had once been an "I want to understand this world" in her. She looked like a lazy, good-for-nothing cat whose sharp edges had been worn smooth by an easy, comfortable life, lying flat on its back waiting to be petted.
But Chu Ge knew better than anyone: her true body in the other world was maneuvering and conquering on every front, her Autumn Water Azure sword soaked in blood.
"Is this your idea of balancing work and rest?" Chu Ge asked, rubbing his hair dry as he came out of the shower.
Qiu Wuji watched the man and woman on TV kiss with a face as smooth as a placid lake, and said lazily, "Half and half. I'm studying how to write a book. The reading and the shows are all for that."
So now I'm the one training and you're the one writing — we've swapped roles? Chu Ge found it pretty amusing and laughed.
"You've really got something, you know. Actually planning to take the gun out of my hands and write about yourself?"
"Can't I write a new book of my own? I understand it all already!" Qiu Wuji said. "I want to try the feeling of creating a world too. And I can make money from it, can't I?"
Chu Ge saw that she looked about ready to plant both hands on her hips, and paused. "Do you know how many writers there are in the world?"
Qiu Wuji grabbed her phone and searched. "Tens of thousands, I'd guess. This Sect Master has plenty of confidence in being one in ten thousand — even if I'm a newbie... er, uh???"
The search results read: "As of now, the number of online writers nationwide has reached over 17.5 million..."
Qiu Wuji: "..."
Chu Ge: "..."
This is actually a lot like that god-tier anti-Japanese war drama business back then — nobody actually tears a Japanese soldier in half, and there aren't actually that many writers... But you searched this yourself. I didn't trick you, okay...
Chu Ge cleared his throat twice and said mildly, "There's a reason people say writing novels is a dead end. If you want to experience what it feels like to create a world, give it a try — just don't count on making money."
"But I'm still spending your money for nothing..." Qiu Wuji said. "That ten thousand I grabbed back then is about used up, I think... Once my ID comes through I'll go publish a book. I have to give it a try at least."
Chu Ge's cheek twitched twice. About used up? Do you have any idea how many clothes, shoes and bags you've bought these past weeks?
Ugh, the seasons are changing. Nothing to be done about it...
Chu Ge plunked himself down beside Qiu Wuji and joined her in watching the lovey-dovey couple on TV. "Come on, you and me — who's counting between us? Let's not talk about money..."
Qiu Wuji turned to look at him. "To exist independently in this world, you have to put in your own effort. You said that yourself."
"It's all work. Working for a capitalist is no better than working for me — same thing."
"I searched it. This is called being a housewife," Qiu Wuji said with a straight face. "Don't try to smooth-talk me. We're not at that kind of relationship."
Chu Ge was stricken to the heart. "First thing tomorrow, yours truly is going to go slay Baidu."
Qiu Wuji hugged her little pig pillow and stared into space. "The Black House said they take jobs for money. Why hasn't there been one these past few days? That's money we could be earning."
"They've been around for years and they've only had a handful of jobs. They all have their own work normally," Chu Ge said. "Anyway, if you want to write, write. We'll talk again after you flop."
Qiu Wuji reached over and pinched his waist. "You're cursing me to flop, just like that!"
"Hey, hey..." Chu Ge quickly went on the defensive, catching her hand. "I only said if — if!"
"You didn't say the word 'if'! And even if you did, it's still a curse, you—"
From the TV came the dialogue: "You're heartless! You're cruel! You're unreasonable!"
"Then aren't you heartless? Aren't you cruel? Aren't you unreasonable?"
Qiu Wuji's half-finished retort died in her throat, and she quietly shut up.
Her hand was still held in his, and both of them seemed to have forgotten it.
Her small hand wasn't hot even in summer — cool and soft, as pleasant to hold as jade, and once you held it you didn't want to let go.
"You're holding my hand," she said suddenly.
Chu Ge snapped out of it. "Ah... huh?"
Qiu Wuji stared at the TV, gaze drifting. "Teach me how to write a book. I've seen your outlines, layer stacked on layer — there really is so much craft to it..."
Chu Ge's expression turned strange.
So this relationship BUFF just stacked another new layer?