Hunger Fire Burns (Part 2)

Most of the sensitive psychotropic drug components monitored by the police naturally took five to ten days to metabolize. Yet Ronan had completed that metabolic process in the brief half hour between his arrest and boarding the ship. In addition, the concocted medication itself had been designed to break down sensitive components. When samples were taken, Ronan only made a slight adjustment to his urinary system, enough to render an ordinary urine test negligible.

As for other samples, such as blood and hair... honestly, Ronan had no confidence.

That was why, from the moment he had been forcibly detained, he had never spoken again. He had no intention whatsoever of bringing out Xie Junping. It would have been meaningless anyway, and he would still need that guy's help to get out of this mess!

Choosing this path meant paying a price.

With his metabolism accelerated, his internal organs had consumed enormous amounts of energy. In just over an hour, Ronan had effectively gone without food for more than a week.

To ensure the nutrient supply to his brain and central nervous system, the consumption of body fat and breakdown of muscle had accelerated. The repeated excitation and inhibition of his neurons had left Ronan feeling terrible.

Pain, numb itching, and faint hallucinations constantly assailed his senses.

Ronan sat motionless on the cold deck plating. In truth, every muscle in his body was being tortured, twitching faintly.

This was a sign of nervous system dysfunction.

He closed his eyes, completely ignoring the wealthy young heirs around him as they blamed one another, and began chanting the Sixteen-Word Incantation.

At first, he recited it in familiar, fluid abbreviated readings, a buzzing sound vibrating through his skull. But his chanting gradually slowed, and his voice grew softer. In the end, no sound emerged from between his lips and teeth. Only the brief phrases flowed through his heart:

My Heart is a Prison, My Heart is the Furnace;

My Heart is the Mirror; My Heart is the Kingdom.

As the inner chant flowed on, Ronan gradually gathered his mind, dispelled his stray thoughts, and naturally entered the visualization stage.

Within the void, silvery threads formed the structure of a Regular Tetrahedron and its inscribed and circumscribed spheres. Like some wondrous celestial body, it rotated alone in the dark reaches of space.

For nearly five years, Drug Sculpting and Chanting Breathing had progressed side by side, creating a subtle correspondence between the "container" and the Contemplation Graphic.

Changes in the "container" would immediately affect the operation of the Contemplation Graphic. Conversely, adjusting the Contemplation Graphic with intent could roughly sort through the structure of the "container," then regulate the rise and fall of Qi and Blood, influencing the functions of the internal organs.

Ronan's ability to detect damage to the "container" relied on the former, while accelerating his metabolism and controlling his urinary system depended on the latter.

Of course, the latter interfered with the workings of the autonomic nervous system. It went against natural physiology, and the price was enduring the backlash.

Like now, the operating rhythm of the Contemplation Graphic had developed some problems. Ronan had spent half an hour accelerating his metabolism. Now, it would take at least three times as long to recover.

Ronan had some experience with this, and his mindset was sound. Since he had been locked up, there was no need to worry about matters outside. He only needed to recuperate slowly.

But before long, he discovered that the situation was not so simple.

The Contemplation Graphic turning within the void began to stutter noticeably, and it grew worse and worse. It was like running a massive game on an underpowered machine—no matter what, it could not achieve smooth, full, perfect graphics. And as the machine overheated, its condition only worsened.

Eventually, even the rhythm of his chanting was affected, and it became almost impossible to continue the visualization.

The backlash was actually this severe?

Ronan did not believe it. He halted the visualization, pondered for a moment, adjusted his body, and changed his sitting posture.

Ronan crossed his legs, like an ancient monk or Daoist priest meditating in cultivation. His whole body was firmly fixed upon the deck. From the crown of his head, lines split to either side through his shoulders, elbows, and knees, forming two straight diagonal lines that met the ground. His posture resembled a sturdy pyramid.

This "pyramid" posture was a visualization technique Grandfather had taught him years ago. It perfectly matched the Contemplation Graphic on the notebook's title page.

The pyramidal Regular Tetrahedron was like the boundary of his limbs;

The Inscribed Circle encompassed his internal organs and the circulation of Qi and Blood;

The circumscribed sphere symbolized the external world and environment.

With body and mind united, inside and outside corresponding, the visualization became more effective.

Ronan generally used it in place of sleep when resting at night. Now, he used it to strengthen the effects of his visualization.

He silently chanted the incantation again and entered a Meditative State, smoothly beginning the visualization. Silver threads formed the complete graphic structure, which slowly began to rotate.

At this moment, Ronan was no longer an observer, but a participant. As he chanted the incantation, the boundary between himself and the Contemplation Graphic began to blur.

He seemed to have arrived in boundless darkness, transformed into a towering pyramid turning through the void.

Then, in his daze, he felt that he had not moved at all. What moved were the organs within, writhing amid flesh and blood; what moved was the seemingly dark void outside.

Between motion and stillness, elements of harmony and disharmony were stripped away layer by layer, laid bare.

"What is that?"

Within the surrounding void and darkness, there was clearly a force. It was not large, but it was dense and solid, like a hand concealed in the darkness, always trying to shift the Contemplation Graphic and disrupt its stability and balance.

Ronan tried to seize that hand, but he could not make sense of the form of existence on The Other Side. His perception became increasingly clear, yet he could never touch it. It was like a mosquito buzzing around one's ear at night, appearing and vanishing unpredictably, utterly vexing.

Or, more accurately, it was a ghost circling and roaming within and without his body, wantonly devouring the essence of his flesh and blood while leaving him helpless.

Stuttering? After all that, the fucking thing was a virus...

Ronan made several attempts, but could not deal with it. Instead, his mind became disordered, stray thoughts surged up, and irritation gradually rose within him. He had no choice but to withdraw from the Meditative State once more.

But once he withdrew, things became even worse. Urged on by his agitation, the numb itching, pain, and faint hallucinations brought on earlier by hunger turned into a roaring flood of stray thoughts. They sprang up from his heart and launched a fierce counterattack, threatening to reclaim their former territory.

Or rather, they were more like a mass of poisonous fire rolling through his Five Viscera and Six Bowels.

Ronan's lips moved faintly. What came out was no longer the Sixteen-Word Incantation, but simple, incoherent curses. His condition was terrible—he knew it was terrible, yet he could not control it. Without question, that made it even worse.

As his mind grew unstable, it became harder to shut out external disturbances. And, of all things, someone came over to bother him.

"Hey!" Someone chuckled beside his ear. "Kid, are you scared stupid, or are you deaf?"

Ronan raised his head slightly. He could barely force his eyelids open. His current state had drained too much of his energy, leaving him insensitive to the outside world. He had no idea what had happened before, nor did he care to know.

Yet the other person would not let it go. "You're so young. Why are you acting all aloof?"

Ronan finally lifted his eyelids and looked at The Visitor. As it happened, this was the only person in the room he knew:

Lian Yu.