Translator: Nyoi-Bo Studio Editor: Nyoi-Bo Studio

In the dark, Chen Mu raised his head in something of a daze. A full ten minutes went by before his gaze grew gradually clear. He let out a long sigh and stood up, looking around at the cards strewn all over the room.

His gaze swept over the cards, which were like snowflakes, and a feeling of accomplishment arose in him. He had never thought he could make such myriads of cards in such a short time! And, they were all four-star cards, which would bring a sky-high, scary price if he were to put them on the market.

Still, although there were lots of cards strewn everywhere, a significant portion of them were failed and wasted cards. Now, he had to sort through them. How many cards had he actually made? He wasn’t clear about that himself and was curious to know. Chen Mu started to sort out the cards that were scattered all over the floor and the desk.

At that moment, Ru Qiu came in. Seeing the situation, she said respectfully, “Let me do this work, teacher!”

Ru Qiu had been utterly impressed with Chen Mu’s performance those last few days. She had never imagined anyone could work so desperately. Shouldn’t card masters be pulling down huge salaries and living lives of leisure? As she saw it, even those professors who did research like crazy in the academies were still far beneath Chen Mu. She finally realized how Chen Mu could have such accomplishment even though he was no older than she was!

She would sometimes wonder if any of those so-called genius youths she had seen could get to that point. Not one could do it! Once they had the least bit of accomplishment, they would show off their talents everywhere and take part in the exclusive parties, singing their own praises among the pretty girls.

Even card artisans known for their diligence would certainly not be so willing to give up their lives like Chen Mu. Making cards the way the boss did was extremely dangerous. Once perception was exhausted, and the card master felt tired, serious, head-splitting headaches and a sickening, depressed nausea could occur. What if one’s perception were completely depleted? What would that situation be like? Ru Qiu had never experienced that, so she didn’t know. But every beginning card master was taught by his teacher that no matter what, they couldn’t let their perception be completely depleted. That would be perfectly dangerous and could even lead to death.

But, with her own eyes, she had seen the boss exhaust his perception every day until there wasn’t a drop left! She really didn’t understand why that was necessary. The situation at the base couldn’t have been better, and there was no need to be so desperate! Ru Qiu had never seen someone at such a young age so diligently create such a foundation by himself. What could he still be unsatisfied with? She really felt there was no reason for the boss to work so desperately. If there weren’t so many cards to make, he could go about making them slowly. There was no one to rush him or compel him, and he wasn’t depending on it for his living. But she would always discover that no matter when, the boss was always utterly desperate! It was like… he didn’t have much time left.

Chen Mu didn’t have the energy to laugh. Going through those days making cards with no breaks, he was like a taut bowstring that had finally snapped. When he now had a break, his entire body went weak.

That was a rare look on Chen Mu. Ru Qiu just stuck out her tongue in a naughty way and started to bury her head in gathering up the cards.

Chen Mu’s body suddenly went stiff with pain! It was as though molten steel were being poured down his spine, and he was engulfed in a wave of pain with no warning. Before he could react—no, there was no way he could have reacted—everything in front of him quickly blurred, and he only seemed to hear Ru Qiu scream!

Everything went endlessly dark.

Chen Mu hadn’t entirely lost consciousness in his coma. He knew he’d fallen into a coma, but his consciousness remained quite clear. That didn’t improve his situation in the least, however. He had no control over his body. There was no light and no sound, but what was most horrible was that he had to endure wave after wave of pain.

He felt as though he had been tied to a cross and was being branded repeatedly by a hot iron! With his consciousness so clear, he felt every bit of pain. Every second stretch out. If he could only scream, the entire base would have heard his misery! But he couldn’t. He couldn’t even make the slightest sound, and he couldn’t move a finger!

Pain! Apart from the pain, he had no other feeling! Chen Mu wasn’t a weak-willed person, but under wave after wave of pain, his consciousness was becoming a little blurred! If he were able to lose consciousness, Chen Mu would certainly have chosen to.

Without knowing how long he had been in that world without light or sound, time lost its meaning. But Chen Mu was still enduring the most terrible torture in the world.

His consciousness showed signs of disintegrating. It was in imminent danger under the constant stimulation of such severe pain. If the pain kept up, his consciousness would collapse from it. Becoming a vegetable would be the most likely result. Wave after boundless wave led to hopelessness.

Chen Mu never stopped struggling in that world so devoid of hope. On the one hand, he was enduring the blows to his consciousness from the pain; on the other, he was trying like mad to find some way out. He didn’t hold out much hope. In that sort of situation, his only hope was to be able to find some way to lessen the pain.

Things would be better if only he could decrease the pain—that was his minimal, simple demand just as he was about to collapse from the torture.

Consciousness was still more marvelous than perception, though it wasn’t something Chen Mu had ever concerned himself with. But Chen Mu couldn’t take it anymore, having been driven to such an extreme. He had to do something! It didn’t matter if it worked or not! He couldn’t just resign himself to death!

So, Chen Mu started to try to control his consciousness. There were scant results, as he really didn’t know what consciousness was or how to control it. But there was no going back, so he simply did the only thing he knew how to do.

He started to force himself to think of something else, attempting to disperse his attention that way and thereby decrease the pain. But the waves of pain like a stormy sea weren’t something his little sampan could contend with. He really had no way to calm his consciousness.

Waves of agony tore into his consciousness, making it impossible for him to grasp even a second of peace. Chen Mu felt he was near collapse for some nameless reason, though he could feel it powerfully. He couldn’t go on that way! The little bit of reason that remained in him told him that if he kept on that way, he would soon be lost.

Because there was no time for him, Chen Mu didn’t know how long he had been in a coma. But in his perception, time had completely stretched out. Each wave of pain lasted an eternity, continually splitting his consciousness into bits and smashing apart the issue he was just thinking about, only to be following by more shocking pain.

Was it 10,000 or 100,000? He didn’t know.

Gradually, however, Chen Mu groped after some order. With the pain coming in waves one after the other, there was an extremely brief interval where he could relax a tiny bit. That little interval was the only time his consciousness could calm. Only in that state of calm could he move his consciousness onto something other than that hopeless pain.

But it was just during those tiny intervals of calm where it was so difficult to remain calm. He had no other choice, though, that being the only thing he could do just then. Whether it was right or wrong, he wouldn’t know until he tried it.

He failed again and again…

Chen Mu’s determination didn’t waver; on the contrary, he was more determined than ever. Although up until then he still hadn’t succeeded a single time, the good points were perfectly obvious. He could feel that his consciousness had become enhanced! The ever-present sense of danger that haunted him had decreased without him even knowing it.

He didn’t know if it was some kind of illusion or just some kind psychological comfort, but it still cheered him up.

“What’s really up with the boss?” Bogner looked worried. He wasn’t in the frame of mind to attend to the training, paying a visit to Chen Mu several times nearly every day. He hadn’t shaved for ten days, on top of which he hadn’t slept well recently. His eyes were sunken, and there was none of his usual majestic grandeur to be seen.

It wasn’t only him. Xi Ping was also full of worry, which made him look as though he had aged. Wei-ah would only sit silently in the corner, his gaze sometimes lingering on Chen Mu in his coma.

Chen Mu hadn’t woken up since falling into the coma, and his face would sometimes be contorted as though he were in a lot of pain. Sue Lochiro had her lips tightly clenched, not having slept for several days. Her skin was bleak, and her red lips had lost all their luster. She had been trying to treat Chen Mu any way she could for those past few days without resting, but none of it was any use.

“He’s gone into a deep coma. It’s likely that his body has separated from his consciousness. If…” She couldn’t help the grief in her exhausted voice. “If he doesn’t come out of the deep coma, there are only two possibilities.”

“What do you mean?” Bogner’s voice was gravelly and low.

“One is that his bodily functions will decline until he dies. The other…” Sue Lochiro was biting her lip hard as two crystalline tears dropped from her ashen face after she couldn’t keep them from rolling down. She tried to speak steadily, but her trembling voice betrayed her emotions. “The other possibility… is that he will be in a persistent vegetative state.”

As though there had just been a clap of thunder out of the blue, the room went absolutely silent. Struck with a sense of dizziness, Xi Ping felt his legs go soft. He wasn’t able to stand and slumped to the floor, his eyes devoid of spirit.

Wei-ah was taken aback as he looked at Chen Mu in a daze. No one knew what he was thinking.

A look of grief flashed past Bogner’s eyes, but with his having weathered so many storms, he still maintained a little calm. “What kind of illness did the boss contract, Sue, my lass? Would there be any hope to cure him if we sent him to a bigger hospital?”

What Bogner said might have been considered insensitive, making it look like he didn’t believe in Sue Lochiro’s medical expertise. But Sue Lochiro didn’t mind. Everyone, including her, hoped someone could treat Chen Mu. But…

Sue Lochiro couldn’t control her tears, and they flowed down. She covered her mouth and couldn’t stop her crying. After a moment, she gradually pulled herself together.

“What the boss actually has isn’t some sort of illness.” Sue Lochiro had restored most of her calm and cool after venting her emotions. Being a medical card artisan, her ability to control her emotions was rather strong.

“It’s not an illness?” Bogner stood up with rage in his eyes. Do you mean someone harmed him?”

Wei-ah’s expression chilled, and he stepped forward. His gaze was fixed on Sue Lochiro, waiting for what she had to say. Xi Ping also stood up and watched her.

After some hesitation, Sue Lochiro decided to say what was on her mind. “There is a fine green thread inside the boss’s body. The boss already had it when we were in Pomelo, and he specifically came to me for an examination. My professor and I researched it for a long time, but there weren’t many breakthroughs. It is a strange kind of plant that can act as a parasite in a person’s body. It’s finer than a hair and ten meters long. By now, it has grown together with his flesh, and there’s no way to pull it out. I haven’t been able to tell where such a plant came from, but I suspect it could possibly be from the House of a Hundred Depths.”

What Sue Lochiro said from her seat left Bogner and Xi Ping gaping.

“The House of a Hundred Depths?” Bogner responded, stunned. He and Xi Ping looked at one another, that having clearly been unexpected.

“Mmmm, I haven’t found any records for that kind of plant, but I did find a related plant—the gold-mottled liquid-soft fungus. In general, two corresponding plants would live in the same region,” Sue Lochiro explained.

Xi Ping then slapped himself upside the head and blurted out, “Now I remember. When we were in Pomelo, the boss would be asking Master Yang if he could buy any of that gold-mottled liquid-soft fungus. Master Yang found it strange that the boss would be interested in it.”

“Now that you say it, the boss must have had it before Pomelo.” Bogner was thoughtfully rubbing his chin when he suddenly looked at Wei-ah.

Wei-ah was the only one who had been together with Chen Mu before Pomelo. He shook his head. “I don’t know.”

“It doesn’t matter to find out when the issues started for the boss. Our top priority is how to get him to wake up.” Xi Ping got right to the heart of the matter.

“Right.” Bogner nodded in agreement as his gaze returned to Sue Lochiro. “Sue, my lass, do you need some gold-mottled liquid-soft fungus?”

Sue Lochiro hesitated. “I can’t really guarantee anything, but that would be the medicine I’ve found with the best chance of treating the boss.”

“Ok, turn that matter over to us. Let’s get together on that, Old Xi. I’m not so familiar with the stuff.” Bogner spoke peremptorily as he pulled Xi Ping out the door. Wei-ah took another look at Chen Mu and left as well.