Monsters also need to cultivate immortality scientifically (2): Scientific cultivation, boundless magic power

The disciples stared dumbfounded at their ice-cold Immortal Venerable, their minds reeling—Had their master been possessed?!  

The moment those words left Chu Feng’s lips, just as the crowd’s shock reached its peak, his expression abruptly darkened. His gaze sharpened like a blade as he looked toward a distant corner of the sky. In one fluid motion, he drew his sword and slashed out a streak of glacial light.  

The arc of sword energy tore through the heavens, carrying incomparable force—like a meteor streaking across the horizon.  

The disciples froze at the sudden violence, instinctively scattering and retreating to protect themselves.  

Chu Feng’s eyes remained fixed on the distant mountain range where an unknown cultivator had been spying on them—a rat who’d narrowly escaped his strike. When he turned back, his gaze swept over the terrified disciples cowering as if he were the threat. His already frosty demeanor turned even colder.  

Wordlessly, he sheathed his sword, the air around him turning glacial.  

Then—a tug at his sleeve.  

Si Qi, who had stood unfazed beside him the entire time, looked up with genuine concern. “What’s wrong? Are you okay?”  

Those clear eyes, filled with nothing but pure worry, brushed against Chu Feng’s ice-sealed heart like a feather’s touch.  

His perpetually indifferent gaze—so cold it bordered on numbness—softened almost imperceptibly.  

“It’s nothing,” he murmured.  

Si Qi rarely saw Chu Feng look so alone. His chest ached, and he said earnestly, “If something’s troubling you, you can tell me. I’ll share the burden.”

The disciples nearby couldn’t help but sneer at the absurdity—what could this nobody possibly do to help the Immortal Venerable?  

Yet, against all odds, Chu Feng’s expression warmed just a fraction further. He gave a nearly imperceptible nod, silently accepting Si Qi’s offer.  

Meanwhile, Xiu Xiu piped up in Si Qi’s mind: [That spy just now was probably the Son of the World, Zhou Junyi!]  

Si Qi smirked inwardly: [I figured. Only someone with his level of plot armor could escape the sword of the cultivation world’s strongest alive.]

In the original timeline, the protagonist had jumped out to rob Immortal Venerable Chu Feng’s group. Initially, he only intended to threaten them verbally, not actually resorting to violence. But in front of everyone, he kept tripping and falling, losing face and earning merciless ridicule from the disciples.  

Humiliated and furious, the protagonist chose to attack—only to be effortlessly overpowered by Chu Feng. Left with no choice, he spat out a few defiant words before fleeing in disgrace.  

Si Qi himself knew exactly how this future would unfold. And Zhou Junyi, the Son of the World who had spent years by the protagonist’s side, understood his former leader’s temperament all too well.  

Zhou Junyi had deliberately lured the protagonist to Chu Feng’s path, his scheme clicking into place like an abacus. He was certain the protagonist would clash with Chu Feng—best-case scenario, they’d become enemies; worst-case, one of them would perish. So he hid in the distance, gleefully waiting to watch the tigers fight.  

But then—  

Instead of a battle, he witnessed his once-mighty former boss shamelessly begging for food, brazenly declaring himself a genius, and insisting that taking him in would be “worth it.” The guy even had the audacity to ask the legendary Immortal Venerable for cultivation guidance!  

This bizarre twist alone was enough to make Zhou Junyi’s jaw drop. But then—the impossible happened.  

Chu Feng, the undisputed strongest in the cultivation world—a man whose icy demeanor was etched into everyone’s minds—actually agreed?!  

AGREED?!  

Zhou Junyi’s plan had been to let his two biggest obstacles destroy each other while he reaped the rewards. Instead, he’d accidentally united them. The sheer irony of his backfiring scheme left him grinding his teeth in fury. In his rage, he failed to suppress his killing intent—and Chu Feng sensed it.  

It took every ounce of his strength and a precious life-saving treasure to narrowly escape Chu Feng’s casual, long-range strike. The attack not only nearly killed him but also destroyed one of his hard-won artifacts. His hatred for both men burned even hotter.  

Si Qi didn’t know the Son of the World was once again shifting blame—and even if he did, he wouldn’t care.  

Releasing Chu Feng’s sleeve, he followed him for several steps—then suddenly realized something miraculous.  

“I didn’t trip?” he gasped, delighted.  

The moment the words left his mouth, the surrounding disciples glanced at him—just in time to see him face-plant again.  

“Pfft—”  

Someone burst out laughing.

Several disciples couldn’t hold back their laughter.

What a fool, they thought. How could anyone be this hopeless?

Someone so weak would never become a powerhouse in the cultivation world—he would be crushed like an ant sooner or later.

Chu Feng’s brow furrowed slightly. He formed a hand seal, bringing his index and middle fingers together before sweeping them past his eyes—activating his Heavenly Eye to truly see Si Qi.

What he beheld was the pitiful sight of the youth clambering up from the ground, his body devoid of any trace of fortune, yet still hemorrhaging luck ceaselessly.

It was like desperately scooping out what few drops of dew might one day appear in an already bone-dry vat—spilling them out ladle by ladle. With circumstances like these, who wouldn’t be plagued by misfortune?

Yet this didn’t make sense…

The reason cultivators could practice cultivation was because their “fate” permitted it.

There was an unspoken rule in the cultivation world: a cultivator’s talent, opportunities, and fortune were all predestined from birth.

The “rebellion” in “rebelling against the heavens” meant struggling against this predetermined fate, fighting to break free from the boundaries Heavenly Dao had drawn, striving with all one’s might to grow stronger.

It sounded difficult, but comparatively speaking, it was already a privilege.

Because cultivators at least had a circle—big or small—to struggle against, while mortals didn’t even have that. They were mere specks of dust, powerless no matter how they fought.

So when Chu Feng looked at this demonic beast youth before him—worse than a speck, an empty void that was still overdrawn—he was perplexed. Logically, such an unlucky existence shouldn’t have been able to become a demonic cultivator at all…

He should have died at birth, or perished in the womb. That would have been his fate.

It was utterly bizarre.

With a wave of spiritual energy, Chu Feng lifted Si Qi upright from a distance—at least sparing him from tripping with every step. This way, the group wouldn’t have to keep waiting for him or laughing at his misfortunes.  

Si Qi hated stumbling around like this. Feeling Chu Feng’s care, he grinned and thanked him, then sidled up close, tugging at his sleeve. “You’re so good to me—does that mean I can stay with you forever?”  

A few disciples nearby curled their lips in disdain, repulsed by Si Qi’s shameless, overly blatant flattery.  

Chu Feng’s Heavenly Eye was still active. From the corner of his vision, he saw the moment Si Qi touched his sleeve—and watched, stunned, as the vast, golden fortune swirling around him flowed unresistingly into Si Qi’s body, lingering for a long while before slowly dissipating.  

This…  

It was the first time Chu Feng had ever witnessed fortune transferring between people. For a moment, he was speechless, his gaze turning contemplative as he studied Si Qi.  

Unaware of this, Si Qi was simply delighted to have found his beloved so soon. He practically skipped along the path—miraculously, he hadn’t fallen even once!  

When Chu Feng returned to the sect with his disciples, he had spent the entire journey deep in thought. Now, finally piecing things together, he said to Si Qi, “Your fortune… was stolen?”  

Si Qi blinked, caught off guard. He hadn’t expected Chu Feng to figure it out—and so accurately, too.  

But from his current perspective, he shouldn’t know about past lives or worldlines. So after a brief pause, he feigned confusion. “I dunno? But for the past week, I’ve been crazy unlucky—tripping nonstop, starving, it’s been awful!”  

Then, with absolute conviction, he added, “It wasn’t like this before! Back then, whatever I wanted, I got! Whatever I tried, I succeeded! Everything went my way!”  

Which explained the original owner’s unshakable confidence.  

Imagine someone who’d been effortlessly blessed since birth—who could win the lottery with every ticket. How could they not be brimming with self-assurance?  

Chu Feng nodded slightly in understanding.  

Stealing someone’s fortune was tantamount to seizing their destiny—an act even more horrifying than body-snatching, one that would terrify any cultivator.

The latter at least allowed the victim to resist with their soul, while the former offered no recourse whatsoever.  

Moreover, the victim was doomed to a life worse than death, where merely existing became torture.  

Choking on water or tripping while walking would be the least of their worries—they might even die from something as absurd as sleeping in the wrong position.  

What makes it even harder to accept is that the target of such a theft must have been someone with astonishingly powerful fortune, a destiny so flawless it stood above all others. Otherwise, the perpetrator wouldn’t have bothered replacing their own fate with the victim’s.  

If the human race’s most formidable destiny belonged to Chu Feng himself, then among the demonic beasts, it must have been this youth before him…  

The mysterious thief likely deemed Chu Feng too powerful to manipulate, whereas the young demonic beast hadn’t yet grown into his potential—making him the easier target.  

Putting himself in the victim’s shoes, Chu Feng imagined the agony of falling from the pinnacle of strength to a state weaker than a mortal.  

What torment it must be for a peerless genius, midway through their rise, to be reduced to nothing—mocked daily, treated like an insect.  

With that thought, the last of Chu Feng’s wariness toward Si Qi dissolved.  

Someone this unlucky wouldn’t have the energy to scheme—any plan would collapse before it even began.  

On the contrary, seeing how Si Qi remained bright-eyed and optimistic despite his abysmal fortune, Chu Feng found himself respecting him.  

He rested a hand on Si Qi’s shoulder, seemingly in encouragement—but in truth, he was channeling his own fortune into him. “From now on, you are my disciple,” he said. “If you face any hardship, you may seek your master’s aid.”  

The nearby disciples stared in disbelief. That their aloof, untouchable Immortal Venerable would say such a thing to someone he’d just met—! Their eyes burned with envy.  

—Why him?!  

This guy hadn’t even had his spiritual roots tested! And he was so… so hopeless!

Just because he was good-looking, smiled sweetly, and knew how to flatter?!  

Those who already looked down on Si Qi now despised him even more, their gazes sharp as poisoned thorns.  

Si Qi paid no mind to their stares. His eyes sparkled as he gazed back at his beloved, heart overflowing with joy.  

A sweet smile bloomed on his face, two symmetrical dimples appearing on his cheeks as he chirped, “Okay! I’ll stay by your side forever and ever, not leaving even a single step!”  

The onlookers’ envy burned even hotter.  

They—these prodigies, these heaven-favored geniuses—weren’t even Immortal Venerable Chu Feng’s disciples, had never received his personal guidance. So why did this nobody get to?!  

WHY?!  

Chu Feng nodded. “Come with me to inform the Sect Leader. From today, you are a disciple of Lingxiao Sect.”  

His use of “inform” rather than “pay respects” spoke volumes about his status within the sect.  

Had formalities been allowed, he’d likely have just sent a message via jade slip rather than bothering to visit the Sect Leader’s peak in person.  

The Sect Leader, too, never imagined his Immortal Venerable would return from a casual outing with a disciple in tow—one picked up by chance on the roadside, no less, “lured back” with a handful of fasting pills.  

Subordinates handled mundane procedures like registration and token issuance. After memorizing Si Qi’s appearance, the Sect Leader asked Chu Feng, “Has his spiritual roots been tested?”  

Chu Feng: “No.”  

The Sect Leader was speechless.  

Since when did an Immortal Venerable choose disciples so… casually?

Chu Feng: “But his foundation must be solid.”  

The Sect Leader gave a strained smile.  

How would you know his foundation was solid without even testing his spiritual roots?  

He produced a spirit-testing stone and gestured amiably for Si Qi to come forward. Si Qi promptly tripped over his own feet—only to be steadied by Chu Feng’s hand. The next few steps, however, were miraculously stable.  

The Sect Leader, who hadn’t seen anyone trip while walking in centuries, was once again speechless.  

Maintaining a composed smile, he glanced down at the stone Si Qi had touched.  

A flicker of approval crossed his eyes—though, given this was Immortal Venerable Chu’s disciple, the result wasn’t surprising. “Heavenly Spiritual Root, single-element wood attribute. Excellent.”  

A single-element Heavenly Spiritual Root was, of course, ideal.  

Then, out of habit, he formed a hand seal and activated his Heavenly Eye to examine Si Qi’s destiny.  

“……”  

“???”  

The Sect Leader blinked hard, reflexively repeating the seal, his eyes drilling into Si Qi.  

But no matter how he looked, the faint glimmer he detected (courtesy of Chu Feng’s earlier transfer) was as feeble as a guttering candle in the wind—on the verge of snuffing out…  

Was his vision failing?!  

Even the worst four-element spiritual root among cultivators would have a destiny far brighter than any mortal’s.

Yet Si Qi’s current state was even worse than a mortal’s—one might expect him to drop dead at any moment.  

The Sect Leader instinctively looked up at Chu Feng, only to be nearly blinded by the dazzling golden radiance of his destiny. Squinting hard, he stammered, “This… Immortal Venerable, why is your disciple’s destiny… unreadable?”  

Not that it was unreadable—just that the reading was too unbelievable to accept.  

Chu Feng replied, “That is irrelevant.”  

The Sect Leader: “Uh…”  

If destiny wasn’t important, then what was?  

Back then, wasn’t Chu Feng immediately identified as possessing a once-in-a-millennium destiny upon entering the sect? Wasn’t that why the previous Sect Leader had taken him as a direct disciple on the spot, with the entire sect treating him like an ancestor, funneling all their resources to him in hopes that he would one day elevate Lingxiao Sect to the pinnacle of the cultivation world?  

And hadn’t that expectation been fulfilled? Chu Feng was now the undisputed strongest cultivator, and Lingxiao Sect’s dominance was unshakable.  

At the root of it all was Chu Feng’s overwhelming, impossible-to-ignore destiny.  

The Sect Leader glanced again at Si Qi, whose faint traces of fortune had already dissipated completely. Normally, only inanimate objects like rocks would exhibit such lifelessness.  

But since Si Qi was clearly standing there alive, he couldn’t be an object. If it wasn’t a problem with his fortune, then it must be the Sect Leader’s own vision—how could a Heavenly Spiritual Root have no destiny? Surely some external factor was interfering.  

The cultivation world was vast, and strange phenomena were hardly rare. Not everything had an explanation. Collecting himself, the Sect Leader smoothly conceded, “Very well, then. Since he is now under your tutelage, he will naturally learn your sword arts. Should you require anything, you need only ask.”  

Chu Feng gave a slight nod, offered a perfunctory bow, and led Si Qi away.

They arrived at Chu Feng’s mountain peak—a place devoid of servants, disciples, or any signs of human activity. Aside from the occasional wild deer darting across the slopes, it was so secluded it might as well have been cut off from the world.  

One had to wonder how Chu Feng usually passed the time here.  

Chu Feng soon demonstrated.  

He led Si Qi to a meditation chamber and, without any preamble, got straight to the point: “Have you practiced any cultivation techniques before?”  

Si Qi shook his head. “Never. And I can’t read, either.”  

He said this without a trace of shame.  

Chu Feng showed no surprise—after all, the youth before him was a demonic beast. What was strange about a beast not knowing human script?  

His demeanor remained icy, devoid of the gentleness one might expect from a master. But when it came to action, he far surpassed those who only put on a show.  

Another cultivator might have flicked their sleeve by now, dumping their disciple in some rudimentary school and telling them to return only after mastering the basics.  

Chu Feng, however, simply gave a slight nod and said, “Then this master will teach you everything from the beginning.”  

Si Qi grinned and agreed cheerfully.  

He loved this quietly considerate side of Chu Feng.  

Chu Feng continued, “Though you’ve never studied cultivation techniques, you’ve already achieved Qi absorption—proof that your talent is considerable. With diligent study, even the worst fortune won’t stop you from carving out your own path.”  

Si Qi puffed out his chest. “They say the student surpasses the master! This disciple doesn’t aim too high—just matching you would be enough!”  

Had anyone else heard this, they would have laughed themselves sick at the sheer audacity.

Chu Feng, however, seemed genuinely pleased by these words. The corners of his eyes curved slightly, and his voice softened further as he picked up a scroll and began to explain in detail: “Qi resides in emptiness, containing the Great Dao…”  

Side by side, they sat together—Chu Feng patiently teaching Si Qi the fundamentals of Qi absorption while simultaneously guiding him through each character.  

His voice was pleasant, just the type Si Qi liked—aloof and cool, yet carrying a trace of warmth, reminiscent of the Lord God from his earliest memories.  

Si Qi listened attentively, memorizing each character the moment Chu Feng taught it. By the second recitation, he could repeat them flawlessly.  

Such aptitude quickly caught Chu Feng’s notice.  

This little disciple absorbed knowledge as effortlessly as breathing. Nearly everything he was taught was grasped instantly—a level of brilliance that even the naturally gifted Chu Feng found astonishing.  

Teaching him was a joy. When Chu Feng finished the final point, his gaze held quiet expectation: “…You may now attempt the method I’ve taught you.”  

Si Qi nodded brightly and settled into position. With a slight inhale, the ambient spiritual energy reacted instantly—like compass needles drawn to a magnet—swarming toward him in an unbroken stream.  

Even prepared as he was, Chu Feng was stunned by Si Qi’s breathtaking talent.  

Accustomed to mediocrity, encountering someone who matched his own innate gifts was as startling as others found him.  

But the moment was short-lived.  

In the next second, Si Qi’s relaxed expression twisted in pain.  

The spiritual energy inside him raged uncontrollably, wild as a herd of unbroken stallions. The agony of his meridians tearing was excruciating—a metallic tang rose in his throat, and a trickle of blood escaped his lips.  

Chu Feng immediately pressed a hand to Si Qi’s chest, channeling his own spiritual energy into him—gentle yet firm—wrapping around the rampaging forces and guiding them safely out through nearby acupoints.

Si Qi looked as though he had been flayed alive from the inside, his face deathly pale, his body trembling from the pain.  

His meridians had been torn apart by the chaotic flow of qi.  

It sounded almost comical—but in reality, it was no laughing matter.  

A trace of worry flickered in Chu Feng’s eyes. “Your talent is indeed remarkable,” he said.  

But his fortune was abysmal.  

Just as a mortal might choke on water, Si Qi—while performing the most basic act of Qi absorption—had somehow managed to trigger an uncontrolled surge of energy that ravaged his meridians.  

For other cultivators, such accidents could be avoided simply by focusing during practice and not recklessly multitasking.  

But for Si Qi? Unless he maintained absolute vigilance at all times, qi deviation would strike at any moment.  

Chu Feng was a true prodigy. Over centuries of cultivation, he had never encountered bottlenecks, let alone such amateurish mishaps.  

It was like a world-class researcher, accustomed to tackling grand scientific challenges, suddenly forced to tutor a primary school student struggling with “1 + 0 ≠ 10″—utterly out of his depth.  

Yet he was a responsible master who understood the importance of prevention.  

If he lacked knowledge, he would learn.  

After cleansing the residual qi from Si Qi’s body and feeding him a healing pill, Chu Feng summoned the Medicine Hall’s steward, ordering batches of meridian-repairing elixirs and other low-level remedies—the kind usually needed by careless or incompetent novices—to be delivered en masse.  

Disciples and elders across the sect, who had been closely monitoring Chu Feng’s movements, soon caught wind of this. For a moment, no one knew how to react.  

Especially after the steward returned and whispered to others that he had personally witnessed Chu Feng’s disciple suffering qi deviation right under the Immortal Venerable’s nose.  

Their expressions turned peculiar, minds buzzing with disbelief.

With so many prodigies available, why pick such a mediocre one?  

But since it was Immortal Venerable Chu’s own choice, and given their absolute faith in his judgment, they assumed there had to be something extraordinary about this disciple.  

Secretly observing the situation, they occasionally gathered to discuss, half-joking that Lingxiao Sect might soon welcome another peerless genius like Chu Feng himself. 

They waited and watched patiently for weeks—only to hear nothing about breakthroughs, but endless reports of Chu Feng requesting more medicine, the disciple suffering yet another mishap, the severity of his injuries, how timely the Immortal Venerable’s intervention had been, how many elixirs the sect had poured into his recovery…  

Frowning, they did the math. This wasn’t right. Instead of advancing like Chu Feng—who reached Foundation Establishment in a month and Golden Core in half a year—this guy seemed to be collecting ailments like a medical textbook!  

Even the most talentless dullard wouldn’t be this much of a disaster, would they?  

The commotion grew loud enough that even the Sect Leader personally paid a visit. Witnessing firsthand how the disciple deviated qi at the drop of a hat and tripped over nothing, he pondered for a long while before reaching a firm conclusion:  

—This guy’s luck is rock-bottom terrible!  

So what if he had a Heavenly Spiritual Root? Someone who couldn’t even perform Qi absorption properly was no better than trash!  

The more the Sect Leader looked at Si Qi’s misfortune-ridden face, the more displeased he grew. He sought out Chu Feng and urged earnestly, “It’s not about the elixirs—but with so many gifted disciples in the sect, surely any one of them would be better? Before, you said you focused solely on cultivation and didn’t want to waste time teaching. Fine. But now that you’re willing, why not choose someone more promising?”  

Growing increasingly baffled, he insisted, “With his condition, even mountains of rare medicines might not stop him from dropping dead any second!”  

Chu Feng’s tone was icy, his resolve unshaken: “Then I will cover him in treasures—so that not even a Mahayana cultivator can harm a single hair on his head.”

You say Si Qi was doomed to die no matter what resources were wasted on him? Then he would use even more extravagant treasures to ensure his safety, making sure no harm befalls him.  

If one spirit stone couldn’t solve the problem, then a thousand, ten thousand—even if he had to pave Si Qi’s path forward with spirit stones, he’d smooth out every bump along the way.  

The Sect Leader nearly choked on those words.  

Pale-faced, he stared at Chu Feng, unable to argue or reprimand. His lips parted and closed several times before he finally stormed off in furious silence.  

He didn’t actually take action against Si Qi—out of respect for Chu Feng, he still provided all the necessary elixirs. But after that, Si Qi’s reputation within Lingxiao Sect plummeted. He was branded a burden, a jinx, someone everyone wished would just die and free up the spot, lest he waste not only the Immortal Venerable’s time but also the sect’s precious, life-saving resources.  

Chu Feng shielded Si Qi well, ensuring none of these words ever reached his ears.  

And Si Qi, confined by his abysmal luck, never wandered far enough to hear the rumors.  

He focused entirely on staying by Chu Feng’s side, alternating between admiring his beloved and delving into cultivation. His life was oddly peaceful.  

Chu Feng often reassured him: “Don’t rush. Take your time. You can do this.”  

And Si Qi, brimming with confidence, always replied: “I definitely can!”  

Then he’d attempt Qi absorption again—only to run into yet another mishap, each time leaving himself battered and bruised.  

His body healed only to be injured again, his daily meals replaced entirely by elixirs.  

But like an indestructible cockroach, he refused to be crushed by adversity. Each setback only fueled his determination to conquer the mountain before him, to force difficulty to its knees.  

A month later, Si Qi licked his lips, set down his brush, and stared at the meridian diagram before him, eyes gleaming with excitement.  

Chu Feng frowned. “What is this?”  

He recognized the Qi absorption characters he’d taught Si Qi, and the lines tracing the body’s meridians.  

But the strange symbols scribbled beside each meridian? Utter nonsense.  

They looked like a child’s chaotic doodles, devoid of pattern or meaning—yet arranged with eerie precision, exuding an inexplicable air of rigor.  

Of course, he didn’t realize these were Si Qi’s solution to Heavenly Dao’s sabotage.  

Everything in existence followed immutable rules—time flowed forward, apples fell downward, cause led to effect, and 1+1 would always equal 2.  

Si Qi knew he was unlucky, but even the unluckiest person couldn’t suddenly float into the sky mid-step—they’d just trip.  

So he treated his body like hardware, spiritual energy like code, and meridians like circuitry, drafting a flawless operational blueprint.  

By embedding these rules into an error-proof program, no matter how Heavenly Dao interfered, his cultivation would proceed without fail.  

It was like swapping a bicycle—constantly jostled by unseen hands—for a self-driving car. Si Qi could now lounge inside, napping while the vehicle sped toward its destination, crushing any obstacles Heaven dared place in its path.  

Humans, they choke on water. But machines? Never.  

Si Qi grinned at his diagram, spouting terms Chu Feng couldn’t comprehend—full automation, AI supremacy, why bother manual cultivation when programs handle it better?  

Chu Feng watched his vibrant eyes, expression softening.  

For days, Si Qi had seemed troubled, wrestling with some unsolved puzzle. Now, that puzzle was solved, and his joy radiated so intensely it warmed Chu Feng’s heart.  

Si Qi had Chu Feng observe as he closed his eyes, running the calculations in his mind.  

Then—like a machine executing code—spiritual energy surged into his meridians, effortlessly guided by invisible forces, flowing precisely where it should, pooling obediently in his dantian.  

He didn’t even need to monitor the process. While others labored manually, he’d achieved full automation, idly reaping the rewards.  

Feeling his visibly rising cultivation, Si Qi opened his eyes and smirked at Chu Feng.  

“See? I told you I’m a genius!”