Chapter 51: Spiritual Pressure Chamber

Soon, a bronze gate appeared before them.

“This is the Spirit Pressure Chamber,” the researcher announced, leading the three to the entrance. His voice was calm as he said, “You two can stay inside for one hour.”

“What if we stay longer?” Zhao Junhong asked casually.

The researcher smiled faintly. “Do as you wish. Even if you want to sleep inside, no one will stop you.” With that, he turned and walked away.

“I—damn!” Zhao Junhong muttered, turning to Old Li. “He seems awfully arrogant. Is it just me?”

“That’s the usual attitude of researchers,” Old Li replied, utterly unbothered. “In their eyes, they are the driving force behind humanity’s progress, while martial artists are merely uncouth brutes. They almost wish they could—”

“Forget it, let’s not talk about them. Remember this: The Spirit Pressure Chamber is like a secret realm—if you stay too long, you might die.”

Fang Qingyun’s eyes lit up, shining with excitement.

Death? He loved the thrill.

“Is it the same kind of pressure as the secret realm?” he asked.

“Yes,” Old Li explained. “Inside, there are separate rooms. A red sign means the room is occupied, white means vacant. All rooms function the same. Once inside, you adjust the pressure yourself.”

“It really feels like the secret realm,” Zhao Junhong remarked.

“It was designed by the same person,” Old Li said. “The difference is, in the Spirit Pressure Chamber, you control the pressure. Remember, after one hour you must leave. There will be an alarm to remind you.”

“Why?”

“Half an hour is likely your limit. Staying longer doesn’t mean your spirit energy increases more. As I said, everyone has a limit. When your spirit energy reaches a certain threshold, it won’t grow anymore. It’s possible that after this session, your spirit energy won’t increase at all.”

“Good thing we still have two bottles of Spirit Enhancement Solution later, so we won’t leave empty-handed.”

After that, Old Li gave them more detailed instructions.

Then, the two entered the Spirit Pressure Chamber.

“Is it just me?” Zhao Junhong looked at Fang Qingyun with suspicion. “Old Fang, why do you seem so excited?”

“I’d be strange if I weren’t!” Fang Qingyun grinned. “Old Zhao, think about it—our spirit energy is about to increase again. Remember what Old Li said?”

“Which part? That we might not gain a single point this time?”

“Shut up, I meant about spirit energy itself.”

Fang Qingyun took a deep breath. “When spirit energy reaches ten, you become a martial artist. The more, the better—the denser and purer your spirit power becomes. Every ten points is a rank. When spirit energy exceeds fifty, you have a chance to become a powerhouse. What if it reaches one hundred?”

“Are you awake?” Zhao Junhong rolled his eyes. “Let me be clear: In all records, no one has ever reached one hundred.”

“Are you sure?”

“Well…” Zhao Junhong hesitated, lowering his voice. “It’s impossible to be certain. Do you know the history of our people?”

Fang Qingyun smiled softly. “You’re thinking of those three, aren’t you?”

“Yes, the three greatest figures in human history.”

Zhao Junhong’s expression brimmed with admiration. “The founder of the Human Empire, the First Emperor. The rebuilder, the Martial Emperor. And the Hidden Emperor, who silently protected humanity from within.”

“They truly were extraordinary. Without them, who knows what would have become of us,” Fang Qingyun said with a gentle smile. “So every martial artist should set those three as their aspirations.”

With that, he stepped into the Spirit Pressure Chamber.

Zhao Junhong watched his back, lost in thought.

Everyone… That included Fang Qingyun!

How much spirit energy did he really have? Was he aiming for one hundred?

Since leaving the secret realm, the two had been too busy to talk privately.

So Zhao Junhong had no idea how much spirit energy Fang Qingyun possessed.

But—one hundred was impossible!

Even eighty seemed unlikely.

Could the Spirit Pressure Chamber elevate him to that level?

“You’re overthinking it,” Zhao Junhong muttered, shaking his head as he entered the chamber.

Old Li had said something he firmly believed: Every person has a limit!

Could willpower change that?

As soon as Fang Qingyun entered the training room, he sharply increased the pressure.

In the secret realm, his peak had withstood nearly eight thousand pounds of force.

After leaving, his attributes had improved greatly. Now, he started at eight thousand pounds.

…

“What?” In a messy room, a middle-aged man looked up in surprise at the respectful visitor before him. “You’re saying Yan Ang was defeated? By a novice martial artist?”

“Yes!” the visitor replied, bowing. “It was quick—only two moves.”

“Oh?” The middle-aged man’s interest was piqued.

“Even a martial artist shouldn’t be able to beat Yan Ang in two moves, right?”

He knew his disciple well. Yan Ang was at the peak for a novice, and though stronger novices existed, to defeat him in two moves—how intriguing!

The visitor gave no answer.

“Never mind, I’ll see for myself.” The middle-aged man mused, “The novice martial artist must be here for the Spirit Pressure Chamber. Transfer control permissions to me.”

“Yes, sir!”

Soon, the chamber’s internal monitors came to life.

The middle-aged man scrutinized the screens for a long time, then frowned.

Some children were impressive, but none seemed capable of defeating Yan Ang so swiftly.

Hidden, perhaps?

No matter how one hid, a novice martial artist couldn’t escape his eyes.

Though he was a researcher and not a fighter, he was still a high-level martial artist—the rank alone ensured keen eyesight.

“Hm? Something’s wrong!” Suddenly, he noticed an anomaly.

How many rooms had he checked?

“One, two, three…”

His expression grew serious.

Nineteen rooms?

There should be twenty in the chamber—one was out of his control.

He fixed a cold gaze on the person before him. “Why is there one room missing?”

“What?” The person was startled, exclaiming, “Impossible! You’re using the highest permissions in the institute. Even Bai Ying’s authority doesn’t surpass yours.”

“That’s why I want to know what happened!” the middle-aged man snapped. “Go investigate!”

“Yes, sir!”

Watching the man leave, the middle-aged man’s expression grew icy.

Someone dared to tamper with the institute!

Bold indeed!

What was the purpose? Just for that room?

Was the person inside the one who defeated Yan Ang?

Did he deserve it?

Meanwhile, Fang Qingyun sensed something amiss.

The pressure was steadily increasing.

“Something’s wrong!” Fang Qingyun jolted alert.

He’d just raised the pressure from eight thousand, and it had already reached ten thousand pounds!

His core point was pulsing, as expected.

And his spirit energy was rising.

He hadn’t intended to push the pressure further—just enough to increase his core point. Why risk approaching death?

But now, the pressure was rising on its own.

What was happening?