Chapter 39: The Treasure Left by the Professor

Le Kai declined Rambo’s request to accompany him, as well as Lanska’s offer to send guards—he had matters of far greater importance to attend to.

Driving the professor’s battered little car with the “Shark” insignia, Le Kai quickly returned to his home. No sooner had he arrived than he hurried to shut down all the external defenses of the cavern. Thanks to the professor’s later improvements, over these years, their residence could be described as a fortress—at least, creatures at the level of the mutant leopard didn’t even have the right to knock at the door.

Le Kai took such precautions because what he had acquired from the professor was so astonishing that he instinctively resorted to the safest protective measures.

Once he was sure of his security, Le Kai went to the coldest of the eighteen small rooms, usually used as a refrigerated chamber.

With a few swift movements, he shoved the stored meat to one corner, finally revealing a crystal-clear patch at the center, about a square meter in size, and he stood there, thoughtful.

“Le Kai, our bond as mentor and pupil has reached its end—I have nothing left to teach you. Though it pains me to say so, I am nonetheless glad; you are a fine student, one who has brought pride and, indeed, heartbreak to his teacher. What you’ve learned these past years is enough to place you head and shoulders above your peers, but the art of survival is endless. Even if you have mastered its essence, the world is fickle, and the hearts of men are treacherous. Eternal caution is essential to survival.

I’ve left you some things—curiosities I’ve gathered over the years. Though I am renowned for my learning across the cosmos, I am no warrior. These treasures are yours now, but heed this: their origins are questionable. Best keep them hidden. Should their existence be exposed, not even the gods could save you. Remember this well!”

This was the message the professor left in the wristwatch.

But what shocked Le Kai was not the warning, but the items themselves.

The wristwatch looked no different than those worn by other cosmic citizens, yet once clasped it could never be removed. Now, Le Kai was certain—the watch was truly absorbing his vital blood, a minuscule amount each time, but undeniably drawing from him.

“This is my newest artifact, crafted in imitation of legendary relics. Its appearance may be ordinary, but its functions are extraordinary. Beyond conventional detection, communication, and data transfer, it connects to the cosmic network wherever the divine web covers, enabling remote contact across any distance. It has mysterious abilities—akin to the bio-wristwatches used by princes and nobles. However, I’ve omitted the intelligent defense feature and added a small function: storage.”

The professor’s message was earth-shattering. Though today’s technology surpassed imagination, spatial storage remained the stuff of legend.

The watch he had created not only possessed the special features reserved for royalty, but also the mythical storage function. If this alone were made public, it would stir up a storm across the universe.

From the professor’s message, Le Kai learned all the applications of the wristwatch. Inwardly, he marveled at the professor’s audacity—one who dared use the offspring of great figures for experiments, a true genius. With the storage function, he would never again worry about luggage wherever he went, and his curved blade, unsuitable for constant carry, could finally be put away.

Following the professor’s instructions, Le Kai immersed his consciousness in the wristwatch. Sure enough, something miraculous happened—a virtual space appeared before him. Yet, as he gazed at this space, his excitement was extinguished like a bucket of cold water dumped over his head.

“Old man, is this the supreme artifact you forged with all the knowledge of the cosmos? Could you have been any more shameless? A space barely the size of a fist—what’s the point? You can only fit one apple in here!” Le Kai locked his mind on the bright red “apple.” The next moment, it appeared in his hand. He looked at it, then took a hearty bite.

“This apple is nothing special. You made me strip naked and sit on this block of ice to eat it—were you just messing with me?” Le Kai vented his frustration, gnawing at the apple furiously. In a few bites, he had stripped himself bare, then assumed the meditation posture the professor had taught him. Doubtful of the effect, he nonetheless carried out the instructions meticulously.

“What kind of apple is this? Why does it burn so fiercely when I eat it? Could this be one of the legendary heavenly treasures?”

The apple was small, and soon only the core remained, but Le Kai felt a surge of heat rising from his lower abdomen, growing ever stronger, like a snowball gathering momentum, until it seemed he was surrounded by scorching flames. Terrified, he cried out, hastily activating the nameless technique to suppress the burning.

He never imagined that the apple was indeed a heavenly treasure—not only impossible to suppress, but the boiling current expanded relentlessly, eventually turning into magma coursing through his veins, searing with knife-like pain wherever it passed.

Even someone as hardened as Le Kai, who endured inhuman torment daily, could not resist screaming in agony, seized by the urge to leap into icy water. Yet there he sat atop a block of ice—what could be colder?

Le Kai realized the heat must be the apple’s energy. After four years of rigorous training and daily use of extreme methods—electric stimulation—the power he’d produced wasn’t even a tenth of what this apple released. What immense energy did it hold?

In the past, Le Kai would have been ecstatic, for the gathering of great energy meant progress in strength. But now, he could only curse.

The energy formed a torrent, instinctively following the path of the nameless technique, sweeping through him like a wildfire, utterly uncontrollable. Le Kai felt that wherever the torrent passed, it was as if a barren hillside had been ravaged by flames—no trace of vitality remained.

His consciousness seemed imprisoned, unable to reign in the surging heat.

Le Kai clenched his teeth; his whole body flushed red, like a boiled shrimp, sweat pouring off him in streams that froze into beads the instant they hit the crystalline floor.

The torment of ice and fire was unprecedented.

The three treasures of life: essence, qi, and spirit. Heaven has its three treasures: sun, moon, and stars. Earth has its own: water, wind, and fire.

So-called “qi” comes in two forms: acquired, generated from grains and food, and innate, the primordial breath inherited from one’s parents. Acquired qi is drawn through breath, while innate qi is more mysterious.

The primordial breath lies hidden in the brain, the root of life. When it’s strong, the body is strong; when it’s extinguished, the body perishes—inseparable from one’s fate.

Spirit divides into primal spirit and conscious spirit. The primal spirit is ignorant, muddled, called the spirit of nature. When an infant is born, it is the primal spirit that presides—a state of instinct.

As the years pass, the conscious spirit matures, and the primal spirit recedes. The conscious spirit governs thought—the spirit of mind, or divine intent.

Ordinary cultivation seeks to increase essence, qi, and spirit; only when the three unite can physical strength and power be enhanced.

The technique the professor taught Le Kai was meant, in its early stages, to induce calm and focus—to awaken and strengthen the primal spirit, letting it grow unconsciously.

In deep meditation, the primal spirit activates, regulating the body instinctively in the most optimal way.

But now, Le Kai could not enter meditation, and so his primal spirit could not perform the actions most beneficial to his body.