Yellow Bile (Thanks to Alliance Leader "Sè Diào Kāfēi" for the reward)

Gilan had just detached himself from the film when a sharp, needle-like pain surged through both his arms.

His head, too, was gripped by a sensation of being torn apart.

"Hiss..." Gilan gritted his teeth and drew a sharp breath.

He tried to lift his hands, but found it difficult to do so for the moment.

After a long while, the headache finally began to subside.

"Mr. Snowy Owl, are you alright?"

Miss Sparrow appeared before him at some point, asking with concern.

Gilan sat on the sofa and looked up, seeing Mr. Oystercatcher standing beside Miss Sparrow, gently rubbing his own face, which appeared perfectly intact; it seemed the pain from the film had bled into reality.

"I'm fine... I just took a hit from that monster at the end, and my arms were mangled in the film."

He said faintly.

Miss Sparrow pursed her lips, full of apology:

"I'm sorry, it was my fault that everyone was put in danger this time... and that you had to risk your life to cover our retreat, Mr. Snowy Owl."

"There is no need for that." Gilan shook his head. "Facing unknown mysterious powers, no one can be prepared. As you said, Miss Sparrow, we are a team and should look out for one another."

"You are a gentleman of great poise, Mr. Snowy Owl."

Moved by his words, Miss Sparrow spoke softly.

Mr. Oystercatcher, standing beside her, laughed heartily and patted Gilan on the shoulder:

"Don't worry, although we all got hurt in the film, we only feel phantom pain in reality. A few days of rest and you'll be fine."

"You remain as optimistic as ever, Mr. Oystercatcher."

Mr. Stork walked over, leaning on his cane.

Gilan turned his head and saw that Mr. Stork was not seriously injured, though his left arm—which had been pierced by an arrow in the film—hung limply at his side, looking much like his own situation.

As for Miss Seagull, she was currently leaning back on the sofa, eyes tightly shut, her delicate brows furrowed and her face deathly pale... clearly, the gunshot wound from the film had caused severe negative effects on her physical body in reality.

"Everyone, go back to your rooms and get some rest. We can discuss things at dinner."

Mr. Stork glanced at his watch. It was 10:45 AM; the viewing had lasted only a little over half an hour, but they had already eaten a full meal within the film. Feeling too satiated to eat again, he made the suggestion.

"Mm." Everyone nodded in agreement.

Miss Sparrow and Mr. Oystercatcher, who were in slightly better condition, helped Miss Seagull up and escorted her to room 205 on the second floor.

Gilan walked at the back. He looked over his shoulder at Mr. Stork, who was busy packing up the Black Lake film reel in the storage room, and asked:

"Mr. Stork, what would happen if the projector were turned off directly during a 'viewing'?"

"The 'viewer's' spirit would suffer severe damage."

Mr. Stork turned to look at him and shook his head.

"That is why we arrange for Old Jerry to watch the scene at all times and wake us up manually... If the projector were shut off abruptly, we would all fall into a deep coma due to the sudden interruption of the film, perhaps never to wake again."

"I see." Gilan was lost in thought.

At the same time, Mr. Stork's trust in Old Jerry struck him as strange.

If Old Jerry harbored any malice and turned off the projector while they were 'viewing,' wouldn't they all be finished?

No, not all of them.

At the very least, he wouldn't be.

Gilan went up to the third floor and returned to his room, 301.

He forced himself to ignore the stinging pain in his arms as he took off his hat and trench coat, hung them on the rack, and collapsed onto the red stool at the foot of his bed, letting out a long breath.

A moment later.

Gilan summoned the iridescence in his eyes; the colorful numbers in the corner of his vision read "21."

He attempted to meditate on the contents of the White Cross Body-Forging Technique. The crooked, distorted colorful numbers trembled slightly, emitting a more intense light as if in response.

It is enough, indeed... enough to push me into the next stage of practice!

Gilan smiled.

Immediately after, he raised his trembling hand. Accompanied by a flickering, distorted rainbow light, an old leather notebook appeared in his palm—it was the secret journal of the scribe Espi.

Gilan once again flipped through the secret techniques recorded within, the White Cross Body-Forging Technique originating from the "Healing Knights."

He first reread the section on the first stage, "Mucus," to deepen his memory and consolidate his knowledge, before delving into the second stage, "Yellow Bile."

The movements have increased, the breathing rhythm has quickened, and the combinations are incredibly complex... According to the description, the secret medicine required for the second stage is even more precious. Even within the "Healing Knights," one must perform great deeds to be granted it.

Gilan took a deep breath, gritted his teeth to endure the phantom pain in his arms, and stood up. Following the notes, he began to perform various strange movements and postures, some of which threatened to strain his joints and ligaments.

He stood with his hands clasped behind his lower back, half-squatting with his torso leaning forward. Slowly, he lifted one leg and rested it across the knee of the other. As the pressure on his standing leg intensified, his taut knee joint emitted a faint sound.

Creak... creak...

Gilan struggled to control his breathing, exhaling for over ten seconds, inhaling sharply for two, exhaling again, and then extending the next exhale by another second.

After three cycles, his face flushed crimson, and he felt as though he were suffocating.

And this was only the beginning.

Following this, Gilan had to switch legs and shift the weight across his arms, chest, and back, coordinating with even more complex breathing patterns to meet the requirements of the "Body Tempering Technique."

After completing one full set of exercises, Gilan lay on the floor, gasping for air like a dying fish.

His arms throbbed with piercing pain.

Despite the lack of strenuous movement, his heart hammered like a war drum, and sweat poured off him like rain.

These simple movements, combined with specific breathing rhythms in a mysterious sequence, caused subtle changes to occur within Gilan's body.

Soon, symptoms similar to those from his first attempt at the "Body Tempering Technique" began to manifest.

He suddenly felt a sharp, violent stab of pain beneath the lower edge of his right ribcage, and the muscles in his limbs began to spasm, causing his entire body to convulse uncontrollably.

"Urgh—" Gilan cried out in pain, then immediately clamped his teeth shut.

His eyes turned bloodshot, and veins bulged on his forehead.

He knew this was the consequence of lacking secret medicine; an ordinary person would likely suffer total paralysis, a ruptured gallbladder, and organ failure.

But he was no ordinary person.

Iridescence!

Gilan roared in his mind.

The colorful number "21" in his vision plummeted, jumping back down to "1."

Having consumed a full 20 points of mysterious energy, the abnormalities in Gilan's body eased. The sharp pain beneath his right ribcage transformed into a wave of warmth that flowed into his limbs and bones, making his whole body glow with heat.

Snap...

Crack...

The joints throughout his body erupted in a dense chorus of pops, sounding like cookies being broken apart.

The noise lasted for nearly half a minute before fading away.

Gilan remained lying on the floor for about ten minutes, his clothes soaked through.

Thwack!

He pushed off the ground with his right hand, which no longer felt phantom pain, and stood up straight like a pendulum, the entire motion appearing incredibly fluid.

Gilan felt the immense changes in his body and was filled with joy.

Unable to suppress his impulse, he leaped into the air—

Thump!

With his legs splayed as if walking on air, his body traced a perfect arc, easily completing a backflip before landing steadily on his feet.

As expected, after entering the second stage, "Yellow Bile," my flexibility, agility, balance, and jumping power have all seen a massive increase.

Gilan clenched his fist and punched the air in front of him.

Whoosh!!

The shadow of his fist cut a straight line, whistling as it broke the air.

Feeling unsatisfied, he drew back both arms and unleashed a dozen more punches.

The wind from his fists was biting, howling as it moved.

Whoosh, whoosh, whoosh, whoosh!!

My physique and strength have also been enhanced a second time; compared to before, I am at least twice as strong!

Gilan abruptly retracted his fists and stood perfectly straight.

With my full-force punch now, it should be close to 1,000 pounds...

His eyes shone bright, and he had a strong intuition.

If he were to face that Detective Granny again, it would take only three moves—

Within three moves, he would surely beat him to death!