Chapter Eight: Song Hai’s Talent

You must know, the strength he possessed now was merely the result of ten active cells. But what if the number wasn’t ten, but twenty, thirty—or even a hundred? And these were cells that had already undergone their first transformation! By then, the increase wouldn’t just be a matter of simple addition.

As this thought crossed his mind, Zhou Yi couldn’t suppress a small smile at the corner of his lips. “If things really go as I imagine, not to mention anything further, but simply having a hundred cells, each able to store ten units of energy after the first transformation—that’s a thousand units in total!”

“A thousand units of energy, if all converted into the body’s attribute, that’s one thousand times 0.001, which equals a whole point. That would mean doubling my physical qualities!”

“Oh ho ho... Just thinking about it fills me with delight!”

...

“Mmm... smack... smack...”

Just as Zhou Yi was savoring these pleasant thoughts, the sound of someone smacking their lips, mingled with other noises, suddenly drifted to his ears.

“This sound... why does it seem so familiar?” Following the sound, Zhou Yi pondered for a moment as he opened his eyes and looked in its direction.

“Good grief!” When he saw the source, he found Song Hai sprawled on the ground, sleeping soundly, drool pooling beneath his lips—a scene of utter comfort. The sheer harmony of it all made Zhou Yi blurt out a curse.

“Has this guy mistaken this place for somewhere else?” Staring at Song Hai, who was so deeply asleep that Zhou Yi’s expletive hadn’t even roused him, Zhou Yi couldn’t help but feel a peculiar mix of curiosity and envy.

After all, this was no ordinary place. The blade-like wind here felt like a thousand knives scraping bone. And yet, Song Hai could sleep through it all. Zhou Yi, who had endured the pain with no solution in sight, could only feel an overwhelming sense of envy and resentment.

“What on earth is going on here?” Zhou Yi gritted his teeth as he slowly stood up, every movement causing him to grimace, stumbling like an aged man on the verge of collapse. With great effort, he made his way to Song Hai’s side, suppressing his pain as he observed him with curiosity.

It was as though, in real life, he was witnessing someone standing in the center of a plaza, being sliced to ribbons by a mob wielding knives—yet the person remained oblivious, even managing to fall asleep. It was an astonishing sight.

“Hm?” After watching a while, Zhou Yi gave a soft exclamation, squinting his eyes to focus intently on Song Hai’s body, tracking every small movement.

“What’s this?” With his attention sharpened, Zhou Yi instantly noticed something amiss. Although Song Hai appeared to be lying there asleep, his body was actually far from still.

As the blade-like wind struck, the muscles across Song Hai’s body twitched with minute, precise movements—almost like the flowing motions of Tai Chi. Wherever the wind landed, the muscles in that area would contract, and the instant the wind brushed against his skin, those muscles would immediately return to their original state, as if they’d never moved at all.

In this way, the wind didn’t cut into him but simply brushed over him. With such subtle muscular adjustments, the invisible blade wind was neutralized.

No wonder he could sleep here, even snoring and drooling! For him, the blade wind was merely a gentle breeze—like a natural fan, soothing and comfortable enough to fall asleep under. How could anyone not envy such comfort?

Damn it! The same place, the same ordeal—how could the difference be so great?

“It seems you’re the real genius here!” Realizing this, Zhou Yi looked at Song Hai with a wry, tearful smile, unable to decide whether to laugh or cry.

A true slap in the face! Just moments ago, he’d been proud of his own perfect memory and quick learning, thinking himself the ultimate genius—only to be immediately outdone in the most direct way.

In comparison, Song Hai was the genuine prodigy.

Only now did Zhou Yi seem to understand—the wind pass was meant for true talents like Song Hai. For them, once they endured the initial pain and their bodies adapted, they could automatically respond to the blade wind and walk through with ease. Such innate ability was exactly what the Mountain Blade Sect was looking for in a disciple.

As for those without such talent—well, it didn’t matter. They could grit their teeth and push through, just as Zhou Yi was doing. In other words, as long as he could endure the pain and make it through, he would be accepted.

That was enough.

Still... the difficulty was enough to move anyone who understood to tears. Zhou Yi, at this very moment, felt the urge to weep.

The difference in treatment was simply staggering.

“But what exactly is this talent?” Zhou Yi asked himself helplessly, glancing at the sleeping Song Hai, then leaning against the wall and slowly sitting down, lost in thought.

“I’ve lived through so many years of the twenty-first century, maybe not the most well-traveled, but certainly not ignorant. Yet I’ve never heard of a talent like this...”

“Just thinking about it fills me with a sense of powerlessness!”

He wasn’t claiming perfect memory or instant mastery—but this was far beyond that. Song Hai’s body adapted and adjusted automatically; wasn’t that even more astonishing?

The blade wind that nearly drove Zhou Yi mad was, for Song Hai, no more than a natural fan.

For Zhou Yi, the blade wind scraped the bone. For Song Hai, it was a breeze—a lullaby.

“But why is that? I’ve never heard of such a talent; it’s far too bizarre.”

“In my previous life, there was a saying—muscle memory. This is somewhat similar, but the difference is vast! One is gained through training; the other is acquired after a single moment of pain. They’re simply not on the same level.”

“Still, there must be some theory behind it, right?”

“It can’t be that all attacks are automatically neutralized the moment they strike the body—that’s just too far-fetched!”

“This is a world of martial heroes, not immortals. Even in a world of xianxia fantasy, such immunity would be reserved for the highest echelon. How could it appear here?”

“But now that I think about it, Song Hai’s talent does somewhat resemble that legendary concept of immunity to all techniques.” Zhou Yi stroked his chin, deep in thought. “Could it be that my friend truly possesses such a gift?”

“If he does, that would be wonderful news.”

Just as Zhou Yi was pondering this with a faint smile, the corner of his eye caught Song Hai’s muscles interacting with the blade wind—a push and pull, followed by instant dissipation. Suddenly, a wild idea flashed through his mind, and he couldn’t help but gasp in astonishment.