[Shadow Coexistence] (Gold)

Your shadow is not merely a reflection of light, but an awakening independent existence. It will become your second body, coexisting and dancing with you.

....

Ps:

"Your shadow is your most loyal companion, and also your most dangerous enemy!"

"Most loyal companion" was directly ignored by Feng Mu, his eyes were full of the note "most dangerous enemy".

The system’s annotation can never be wrong— the shadow is a natural rebel.

Incubation?

Not a bit of it!

When the rebellious nature of the shadow is ground away, he will consider when to incubate the shadow, otherwise, it must be handed over to Venom for more education.

This process is called enduring the shadow!

And while Feng Mu was thinking about his eldest son, his eldest son was also thinking about him and his... shadow brother.

In the dark and empty bedroom, Qian Huan was quietly soaking in the fish tank.

The "Deadman’s Head" in his hands suddenly twitched eerily, and those originally bulging pallid eyeballs were instantly dyed with thick, ink-like black.

Taking advantage of the quiet night, with no one in the house, Venom was practicing inside his skull.

But unfortunately, after a while, Venom could feel his martial arts showing no progress.

He really didn’t have his father’s extraordinary martial arts talent.

The first attempt at fantasy-style practice, failed!!!

"Could it be because this head is a dead object?"

Venom pondered, the inky black eyeballs rolled and stared intently at the face of Qian Huan above.

The next second, he saw black mucus seeping out of the dead black eyeball, turning into countless hair-thin strands of mucus, slowly crawling over Qian Huan’s fair skin in silence.

The mucus converged on Qian Huan’s face, seeping in through his nostrils, eye corners, and slightly parted lips, the entire process was so bizarre it sent chills down the spine, but not a sound was made.

The influx of mucus lasted about half a minute.

When the last wisp of black disappeared into Qian Huan’s mouth and nose, the Deadman’s Head he was holding seemed to have completely lost some kind of support, becoming even more ashen and lifeless.

At the same time, Qian Huan’s body, soaking in the fish tank, twitched ever so slightly.

Unfortunately, no one witnessed this scene.

Only those who have fallen into a near-death coma can know that the deepest part of consciousness is boundless, absolute, and despair-inducing darkness.

No direction, no time, no sound, no touch, only a void that is sticky and pitch-black, capable of freezing the soul completely.

Qian Huan felt his consciousness was exiled into this abyss of blackness.

He felt himself sinking, endlessly sinking, unable to reach the bottom.

He wanted to shout, but his throat felt blocked; he wanted to struggle, but his limbs were bound by invisible chains; he wanted to think, but his thoughts were like sinking into a quagmire, too heavy to move.

Only boundless fear and suffocation overwhelmed him.

Calling to the heavens brings no answer, calling to the earth yields no response.

In this pure and despair-inducing blackness, who knows how much time passed when suddenly, a faint light... no, it wasn’t light, but a silhouette slowly emerged from the darkness.

The silhouette walked closer, the sound of footsteps echoing strangely in the void, and as the distance shortened, the figure became clearer, more familiar...

That was— Feng Mu?!!

He came walking out of the darkness, like an entity condensed from the darkness itself, even wearing a prison guard uniform from the Second Prison, which Qian Huan could recognize anywhere.

Why would Feng Mu be in my consciousness?

Am I dreaming now?

After the initial shock, Qian Huan gradually realized he seemed to be in a dream.

A dream that was incredibly vivid, incredibly real, yet incredibly bizarre... a first-person perspective dream.

Consciousness finally was no longer purely dark.

Instead, it turned into a giant, empty, cold room with not a trace of warmth.

The walls, ceiling, even the floor, were composed of countless huge, smooth, spotless mirrors pieced together!

In Qian Huan’s first-person view, he saw his body move uncontrollably, performing various moves in succession.

Am I practicing martial arts?

Only to see his movements swift, fierce, filled with ruthlessness and precision.

Fist winds howling, leg shadows like whips, his stepping technique strange and elusive, moves vicious and cunning, containing an extreme desire to kill, like a monster.

Seven Kills Fist!

Soul-Seeking Step!

Senluo Finger!

What the hell is all this?

Qian Huan originally knew nothing of these martial arts!

But at this moment, in the dream, he found himself executing them with incredible skill, as if these techniques were already etched into his bones, integrated into his soul.

Every exertion point, every breath’s coordination, every step’s transition, was smooth and natural, as if practiced millions of times, muscle memory so profound it was astonishing!

"This dream of mine is simply absurd!" Qian Huan thought to himself.

He couldn’t control his body, and even his viewpoint clung to Feng Mu, not moving an inch, like a stalker.

Feng Mu was just ahead of him, with his back to him, practicing the same techniques, the same stepping techniques.

Only his movements were faster, more ruthless, more fluid, with an indescribable charisma.

Is Feng Mu teaching me martial arts?

Am I learning martial arts from Feng Mu in a dream?

Qian Huan had dreamt before, and he also knew that dreams were mostly fragmented, logically chaotic, and utterly unreasonable, but this dream was just too absurd.

Who knows how long passed in the dream, it was impossible to count how many martial arts he actually practiced.

Anyway, it’s a dream, martial arts in the dream are fake, what’s the point of counting?

Finally, in the first-person view, he stopped practicing, slowly ending the practice, his gaze slightly shifting to look into the mirror.

A blurred face was reflected in the mirror, vaguely recognizable as his own features.

Yet faintly, it seemed the features on the face were twisting, writhing, melting... as if countless tiny black things were writhing under the skin.

Is this me?

Do I look like this?

Qian Huan felt his consciousness slightly confused, he stared intently at the mirror, watching his reflection exaggerate its grin, smiling at him...

Yes, this seems to be me?!!

.....

Buzz, buzz, buzz —

The sudden vibration of a phone interrupted the rhythm of practice.

Feng Mu glanced at the virtual number displayed, raised his eyebrows slightly; it was Ma Bin’s encrypted line.

The call was brief, and after hanging up, Feng Mu had a playful look on his face.

From the phone, Feng Mu learned two pieces of news, one good news and one bad news.

The good news was, his father, whom he almost gave up on completely, seemed to have rebounded from the bottom and was planning a big move, urgently scheduled for tomorrow night.

The bad news was, afterwards, his father planned to have him take the blame.

It doesn’t sound very precise, in strict terms, [Mask] wasn’t him, but Feng Yuhuai and his boyfriend.

"Heh—"

Feng Mu’s lips slightly curled, his expression half-smiling as he murmured to himself:

"Hmm, it may not be one good and one bad, it could also be two good news."

As for what exactly Ma Bin planned to do with the Sheepskin Scroll, Feng Mu only knew part of the details, not the full picture.

Ma Bin was very mysterious about it, revealing only a part to him, only telling him that there might be an unexpected surprise after the event.

Out of trust in Ma Bin, Feng Mu didn’t dig any deeper, he’s not one to spoil the fun and also pleased to leave some suspense and surprise for later.

However, in this phone call, Ma Bin did reveal a bit more to him, mentioning he intended to use the Sheepskin Scroll to reel in a big fish.

Feng Mu understood what Ma Bin meant, it was clear that Feng Ju’s involvement slightly disrupted Ma Bin’s plans.

Because it was obvious to him, even guessing with his toes, the big fish Ma Bin wanted to catch definitely wouldn’t be Feng Ju.

And Ma Bin calling at this time also had an intention of seeking his advice.

Feng Mu gave a very straightforward and clean answer over the phone, conveying to Ma Bin a central idea – all for the greater good.

The greater good certainly wasn’t Feng Ju, so translated that meant:

Continue fishing for the fish that needs catching, as for Feng Ju? If he survives, it’s his good fortune; if not, it’s his destiny.

For a normal subordinate, hearing this from the boss might lead to doubts, but not Ma Bin, he will definitely follow through.

...