Chapter 185: Despicable Me (Part 10)
Chapter 185: Despicable Me (Part 10)
The only spot on the bottom of the Gasoline Pool untouched by light lay directly beneath the iron cage, which hung suspended near the ceiling. Its shadow stretched wide, though by the time it reached the pool floor, it had shrunk to a moderate size.
Feng Bu Jue dove in, calculating his trajectory. The first sensation he felt was a sharp chill as the icy gasoline made his spine involuntarily tense. Then came the gurgling roar of liquid flooding his ears, causing a searing discomfort. He pinched his nose shut and clamped his mouth closed, temporarily safeguarding his respiratory system. Yet even with his eyes tightly shut, a burning sensation seeped through the gaps of his eyelids.
He had two tasks. The first—locating the potion—was indispensable yet challenging. The second required him to suppress his survival instincts and drown himself once the potion was secured. Failure to complete the first meant losing the potion forever. The next minute spent holding his breath underwater left no room for error.
Feng Bu Jue hit the bottom swiftly. He’d entered in a standing posture, but his body tilted forward mid-descent, landing him almost face-first in an awkward Orz position. Luckily, one hand broke the fall; otherwise, his knees and face would have taken the brunt.
【Main Quest Progress Update】
【Searching for Chemical Potion (2/4)】
The moment his hand touched the pool floor, a system prompt echoed. Simultaneously, a potion materialized in his palm—[Unidentified Chemical Potion (D)].
“What the hell? Am I on a lucky streak?” Feng Bu Jue marveled inwardly. Of all people, I actually landed right on the item’s trigger point during my dive?
Meanwhile, high above in the iron cage, Puppet Bi Li’s face tilted downward slightly, his eyes flickering with a faint gleam.
A hiss rang out—followed by a cacophony of gasoline splashing.
Feng Bu Jue’s silhouette, faintly glowing crimson, erupted from the pool’s surface moments before the floor sealed shut. Activating his Spirit Sense Body Technique, he propelled himself upward with sheer force, shattering through the liquid resistance to soar into the air. Grasping the iron cage, he hoisted himself up, scaling its side with practiced efficiency. His feet locked into the gaps between the bars, leaving him crouched like a predator poised to strike.
“Looks like I can skip a medal and save time running back from the corridor’s start,” he muttered, brushing gasoline-slicked hair off his face. His bloodshot eyes glared, a terrifying sight. Tilting his head, he let gasoline drain from his ears before demanding, “Hey, buddy—how do I open this cage?”
The question was rhetorical. As he spoke, his other hand retrieved a pipe wrench from his satchel. But brute force was too risky—the slightest spark could ignite his gasoline-soaked clothes. Instead, he clamped the wrench on the iron cage’s lock, wrenching it sideways.
The cage hung by a single chain, not four, and Feng Bu Jue’s ascent had already set it swaying violently. Now it rocked like a pendulum. Yet he held firm, snapping the lock open with a metallic groan. Reaching inside, he yanked Puppet Bi Li out like discarded trash.
Bi Li offered no resistance, moving like a lifeless doll. Clearly, his combat prowess equaled little more than a prop—no hidden blades, no extendable limbs. At best, he could record tapes or pedal a tricycle. While he might possess skills to craft death-trap rooms, actual combat was beyond him.
“Too easy…” Feng Bu Jue expected a system prompt upon seizing Bi Li, but none came. Attempting to store the puppet in his satchel, a notification flashed: [Storage failed. You do not have full control over this lifeform, or it resists containment.]
Cautious of a potential struggle, Feng Bu Jue waited for the floor to seal before leaping down. The iron cage’s sway had steadied, allowing him to land firmly.
The Spirit Sense Body Technique had been used only briefly, activated just long enough to seize the cage. His vitality remained intact, but the gasoline’s effects lingered—searing eyes, a nose full of fumes, clothes soaked and clinging like bloodstained rags.
Yet Feng Bu Jue, a man of extreme endurance, shrugged off the agony. With a casual flick of his wrist, he sprinted down the corridor, puppet slung under one arm.
The Gasoline Pool gambit had taken less time than anticipated. Locating the potion and capturing Bi Li proved surprisingly effortless. Only the fourth corridor’s interminable length tested him, requiring nearly eighteen minutes to traverse.
As expected of La Bit’s claim of “eighty minutes total…” Feng Bu Jue had spent precisely eighteen minutes reaching the corridor’s end.
“Hey! Prisoner—I’ve brought your puppet. Hand over the goods!” Feng Bu Jue bellowed, storming into the chamber.
La Bit, seated behind a grand desk, glanced at him, then Bi Li. “Haha! Otherworldly traveler, you’ve caught Bi Li!”
“Less talk. Trade the puppet for the potion.” Feng Bu Jue shoved Bi Li onto the desk.
“Though I don’t know why you’d bring me the one I wanted…” La Bit shrugged, stroking his mustache as he retrieved a potion from a drawer. “But since you’re here, we’ll do as you say—hand over the—”
“How do you know I want the potion?” Feng Bu Jue interrupted, snatching the task item into his satchel. With lightning reflexes, he drew a [One-Shot Pistol], aiming at La Bit’s rabbit-like face.
“Er… you asked me for it…” La Bit’s face paled, his voice faltering.
“You asked for what? I never said ‘potion.’ I said ‘goods’…” Feng Bu Jue’s lips curled into a cold smirk as he fired.
(End of Chapter)
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