"No... didn’t understand," Raymond wiped his cold sweat.
"Oh, didn’t understand but still pay, one million US Dollar, a penny less and I’ll go after your teacher," Luo Lao glanced at him, turned back to Yuan Yuan, "And you?"
"...Didn’t understand," Yuan Yuan shook his head.
Luo Lao looked at Lin Nineteen, Lin Nineteen shivered, also nodded, "Didn’t understand even a bit!"
Three guys.
One pretends not to understand while actually knowing, one understood a bit but modestly claims not, only the last one was most honest, truly didn’t understand at all.
Anyway, he didn’t mind, learn as much as one can, witnessing this punch, future breakthrough of extreme interpretation counts as some help.
"How did Huai Shi teach you?" Luo Lao asked.
Yuan Yuan said, "Practicing music and swordsmanship."
Lin Nineteen showed a helpless expression: "Cooking and working..."
"Knows how to teach according to ability, a worthy teacher."
Luo Lao nodded, looked at the two again, waved his hand and said, "Your teacher is resting for half a month, during this time I’ll substitute.
Don’t practice music, as for those gangs, leaving them alone is fine, I’ll first rebuild your two foundations. Don’t be eliminated by the old immortals in Hell in the future."
Yuan Yuan opened his mouth to speak, but ultimately didn’t object.
Little Nineteen nodded like pounding garlic.
One felt the opportunity was rare, and practicing the piano could be made up later; the other simply didn’t dare to oppose.
"No objections?" Luo Lao asked.
"None, none!" Lin Nineteen quickly said, "We both raise hands and feet to support!"
"Oh."
The old man nodded; he didn’t expect things to go so smoothly. After pondering for a moment, he pulled something out of his pants pocket like magic, shook it, and handed it to the two.
"What’s this?" Lin Nineteen rubbed his eyes, confused.
"A POS machine — you don’t recognize this?"
The old man widened his eyes, saying seriously: "Don’t try to follow your scoundrel teacher’s freebies... Everyone get a card first!"
.
.
Huai Shi felt like the old man had blown him up.
Consciousness fragmented.
It seemed as if he had become a vegetative state, cast into darkness, rapidly shattered, split into fours, sixes, sevens, eights... until all his consciousness crumbled into dust-like fine crystals.
Pushed to the brink of destruction—
But when his consciousness was about to be completely annihilated, the force dissipated, leaving him on the brink, arduously returning.
Gradually consolidating, consciousness connected once more.
But before he finally became whole, that force hidden within his consciousness erupted again, tearing him apart, scattering into countless fragments of dust, diffusing.
As he was about to completely lose consciousness again, his instincts allowed his soul to gather once more.
Then, shatter again!
It was like endless torture, constantly pushing him to the edge of a cliff, a thread away from annihilation of consciousness, yet coldly letting him crawl back.
Then, push him down again...
Just like the never-ending Sisyphean task.
Eternal repetition.
Constantly fragmenting consciousness without damaging the soul, only letting him cycle endlessly through torment, over and over. It seemed as if they wanted to chop him into the smallest structures, ruthlessly extracting everything from them.
Amidst the phantom sound of a boom, he reached collapse, but within the nonexistent subtle echoes, he once again completed consolidation.
Splintered and reformed.
Even his thoughts became intermittent, hard to connect, even fragmented, jumping constantly between past memories and illusory scenes.
In the end, even memories and hallucinations no longer appeared.
Huai Shi gave up on thinking.
A distant echo came to his ears.
It was the roar of collapsing consciousness and the faint sound it made upon re-consolidation, so distant in between.
But gradually, the intervals between them became closer and closer, until finally, it seemed to meld into one, transforming into endless tidal waves.
Coming, going.
Nearing, distant.
Beginning, ending.