Jia Xiu's research into the replica Primordial Crystal—in other words, the incomplete parent-class code for healing-type skills—had not gone very smoothly.
It was harder than he had imagined.
On one hand, the class used some "library runes" he had never encountered before. On the other, a single class contained several thousand lines of code, not a single comment, and variable names with no discernible pattern whatsoever. It was completely unreadable.
Without comments, he could barely make sense of code he himself had written after a few days.
Let alone someone else's.
The torment was easily ten times worse than teaching himself programming from Tan Somebody-Qiang's textbooks, combining the abstraction of those little blue linear algebra books with the chaos of his school's self-compiled textbooks.
Jia Xiu felt as if the folds in his brain had been rolled flat, kneaded into a lump, then rolled flat and kneaded again.
For the first time in his life, code made him dizzy.
Compared to this, Gillianis's Vampire research notes were practically preschool reading.
Now he understood why the Association had set such a high threshold for borrowing the Primordial Crystal.
Even the replica was like this. One look at the genuine article would probably make his head explode.
The "good news," however, was that there were no phones in this world to play with.
It sounded absurd, but the lack of portable entertainment really had improved both his focus and his tolerance for facing problems.
It passively prevented the state of working for two minutes and scrolling on his phone for two hours.
With the mindset that there was nothing else to do anyway, so he might as well grit his teeth and study it, Jia Xiu gnawed through the code for several days. At last, he did manage to figure out a