Facing an Ancient God for a Year

Chapter 1979: Chapter 1974: Mathematical Nirvana (35)

Should I go left or right?

It’s said that in the absence of evidence or logical support, one must trust one’s intuition.

And undoubtedly, intuition is now in the left hand.

Soon, Fu Qian is standing at a crossroads.

On the right side is the classic long staircase seen earlier.

Straight and long, with an angle exceeding seventy degrees, you can’t see the top even while standing at the bottom.

And as for the opposite direction, it’s the Nirvana infusing platform seen last.

The whole time walking here, the latter hadn’t been operating, as if quietly waiting for him.

At the same time, the impulse to go past is crazily surging as the distance closes.

What could be over there?

Even like that platform that came down before, there isn’t even a path to go up.

The peculiar sheen on the surface is reflected by strands of hair-like thin tubes.

The thin tubes spirals upward to the filling head position, while deeply embedded into the tower’s base, as if there is a large liquid tank inside—there is indeed a large liquid tank inside.

Clearly lacking the ability to see through, ”intuition” once again plays a role at this moment.

Gazing at the strange layers of patterns on the surface, Fu Qian seems to see a series of gland-like structures within.

The liquid flowing through is the essence gathered here, chemical nirvana raw pulp.

Drinking a mouthful of it would be monumental.

Honestly speaking, it certainly brings nirvana; knowing the truth isn’t always a happy thing.

In the midst of these thoughts, Fu Qian turned around and stepped onto the long stairs on the right.

Intuition is certainly worth trusting, so is there any possibility for it to become even stronger?

...

The climbing difficulty is genuinely high.

Stepping on steps with eccentric sheen is Fu Qian’s first impression.

Though faint friction is added by the foot treads, the soft slippery texture still makes it hard to stand firm—thankfully, there are other things increasing the friction.

Maintaining his body’s balance, Fu Qian proceeds upward without hesitation, as the third step is taken, a sharp pain shoots up from the sole of his foot.

A tooth-like spike emerges from inside the step, almost severing the third toe of his right foot.

And Fu Qian is quite certain there wasn’t any before he stepped onto it.

This means the reaction can be entirely understood as the step responding to being tread upon...

Understanding that, scaling the skyward path is fraught with obstacles, emotional strain and bodily harm is typical.

Upon careful observation, Fu Qian doesn’t let the painful toe affect his body’s balance and continues stepping upwards.

Even when halfway through a step, he suddenly changes direction and lightly steps on a different spot.

The reason is simple, even before his foot lands, another spike emerges there.

Although not as precise as the previous one, continuing in the same direction would still leave a wound on the ankle.

At this point, the significance of maintaining maximum balance emerges, despite the change, this step is taken steadily.

Of course, the road is still long.

Fu Qian looks up, in the blink of an eye, further up the steps, truly interwoven like a forest of pale dagger-like spikes.

...

It’s not entirely impassable, as long as one’s body is flexible enough.

Having never expected a smooth path, Fu Qian bears no special emotions at that moment, just a glance sketching out a way forward.

And without hesitation, instantly proceeds upward according to the mapped route.

Naturally, there is resistance.

With each step higher, the intuition that turning back is worth more than gold grows ever stronger, amidst self-tussle he frantically desires to turn around.

Indeed, intuition has become even more intense.

Quite satisfied with the change, Fu Qian’s response is to continue feeling the resistance while moving forward, amplifying the sense of weighty progression.

Hiss——

Sadly, a path is ultimately a relative concept, even as he maximizes his body’s balance, and the spikes cease to grow after reaching a certain size.

Still, at more than one spot, passing clearly means choosing how many wounds, even failing to maintain a normal ascending stance.

Nonetheless, Fu Qian continues swift calculations, minimizing the loss of mobility.

Amidst the sound of flesh tearing, below the shoulders quickly lacks large areas of intact skin.

And at a certain moment when half of an ear is sliced off, Fu Qian finally stops his climb.

...

Narrowly defined mobility still remains somewhat, but broadly, the ability to continue advancing is lost.

The reason is simple, though the legs can still move, the ”intuition” wildly growing inside his head has become so intense it borders on schizophrenia, the resulting impact finally spreads to the motor nerves.

The self-denying pain crazily tears at the willpower.

That’s more like it.

Taking a gentle breath to ensure that large motions don’t worsen the wound on his chest, at that moment Fu Qian is further satisfied.

The mistakes humans make are often not meaningless, for example they can make correctness stand out more.

See, now the prodigal son has turned back.

Having scaled the height of two towers, the steps ahead still reveal no endpoint.

Fortunately, with a less violent confrontation with intuition, Fu Qian really turns to overlook below, realizing he has strayed from his path.

Indeed, before taking the first step down, the relatively intact hand hasn’t forgotten to grasp the nearest spike, taking a firm pull.

Pleasingly, unlike teeth growing in flesh, they are more like thorns embedded in meat.

After some effort, Fu Qian ultimately secures this memento in hand, serving as a reminder of youthful indiscretion.

With this determination, the downhill path appears rather charming.

Yet because of yearning to return, inevitably, Fu Qian’s body accrues a pile of wounds.

As he eventually returns to the starting point, at a glance, he is already akin to fish ready to be steamed.

However, upon resuming the correct course, he seems indifferent to such details, gripping the spike tightly, and heads straight toward the Nirvana Tower, not once looking back.

Looking somewhat more proper than before, is this the so-called principle that the more advanced becomes the more simple?

As he finally reaches the target, Fu Qian stands beneath that infusing platform, immediately appreciates it.

Not an exaggerated compliment, though the general form is similar, compared to those earlier, the lines here are distinctly simpler and smoother, seemingly having eliminated many unnecessary structures.

Possessing an industrial beauty—slash!

Amidst admiration, Fu Qian extends his hand, a spike carves out a large wound on it.