Chapter Three: This World Has Gone Mad

The manual in his hand seemed to undergo the baptism of ages; the paper rapidly yellowed and decayed, and soon all that remained was a handful of ash that scattered in the wind, filling the air. In the mastery column, a new entry appeared: “Eye-Clearing Technique,” and with it, a surge of knowledge abruptly flooded Zhou Bai’s mind.

He took a few breaths to sort through it; it was all about methods to adjust the muscles around the eyes. With this technique, one could alter the focal length of their vision. If Zhou Bai persisted in practicing, he could eventually see a grasshopper clearly from over ten meters away, albeit only for a short time.

But he didn’t have the luxury of time to start from scratch with such things. Focusing his attention on the Eye-Clearing Technique again, the system prompt appeared: “Would you like to spend 1 point to upgrade Eye-Clearing Technique to 100%?”

After choosing “Confirm,” Zhou Bai felt a sudden itch around his eye sockets, lasting less than ten breaths. He scratched instinctively, and a layer of dead skin peeled off. Although his appearance hadn’t changed much, his eyes were now noticeably more spirited, a hint of vitality added to his scholarly demeanor.

He experimented with the technique; it did have some practical use, but it was still largely ornamental. He had to stare at the same spot for a while before his focal length would adjust, and making the changes was cumbersome.

It was clear—even though his system was basic, it had already brought his mastery of the Eye-Clearing Technique to a beginner’s level, which spoke volumes about how bland and unremarkable this skill was. The system’s prompt sounded again: to break through the Eye-Clearing Technique’s current limits would require two points, the same as the Carnivorous Method.

Zhou Bai had no other choice. He only had two points left, which meant he had to pick between the Carnivorous Method and the Eye-Clearing Technique. By his estimation, upgrading the former would likely turn him into an expert in therapeutic diets, while the latter would at least give him the equivalent of built-in binoculars.

He didn’t have time to wait for another martial arts manual; collecting just one had taken a year, and that had been sheer luck.

He selected “Confirm.” The words “Eye-Clearing Technique” began to blur, and suddenly his eyes throbbed with pain, tears streaming uncontrollably. The pain didn’t fade; instead, it grew more intense with each passing second, each moment an ordeal. His whole body trembled.

“Am I going blind?”

Fortunately, Zhou Bai’s butcher stall was in a rather inconspicuous spot, so no commotion was caused. After more than ten minutes, he finally stabilized, first feeling a wave of weakness wash over him. His clothes were soaked with sweat, and everything he looked at appeared to double.

“Isn’t this a bit much…” Zhou Bai steadied himself against the wall and sat cross-legged on the ground, taking a long time to recover. All this just to upgrade an almost useless martial art—he’d nearly been knocked out by the aftereffects.

His first instinct was to open the system interface. The Eye-Clearing Technique had vanished, replaced by a new entry: “Yin-Yang Eyes 1%.”

He froze. In just a few minutes, the tone of his world had shifted from martial arts to something straight out of a Lin Zhengying film—a transition he simply couldn’t get used to.

He looked around; his eyes didn’t seem much different at first, but on closer inspection, subtle changes became apparent. As he focused, his pupils began to change: the whites of his eyes expanded, the pupils contracting toward the center until they were no larger than black sesame seeds.

Everything in his field of vision was tinged with a faint monochrome, giving everything an eerie cast.

From the shadows of the alley came the faintest of voices, and Zhou Bai was instantly unsettled.

“So fragrant… the smell of meat…”

“Eat him, hurry, eat him…”

He glanced out of the corner of his eye toward the source, his body freezing. In the darkness, several child-sized specters squatted, watching him with greedy eyes. Their emaciated bodies were covered in festering boils—a sight so shocking he nearly vomited.

He fought to control his terror, pretending he hadn’t seen anything—he didn’t want these little ghosts to notice his awareness.

Zhou Bai hurried out of the alley, not realizing that, perhaps because it was his first time activating the Yin-Yang Eyes and his emotions were running wild, his jet-black pupils were gradually turning a bloody red.

Had he checked the system interface at that moment, he would have seen his Yin-Yang Eyes had unknowingly become “Ghost Eyes (Temporary).”

He had hoped the crowd on the street would help dispel his fear, but from his perspective, a mist had enveloped the area. The bustling noises of the city were muffled, as if the fog had sealed him away from the world. Zhou Bai felt as though he were falling, ever further from the living into some boundless hell.

A thunderous boom split the air. Instinctively, he looked up. In the endless mist, a giant a thousand meters tall was striding forward, its head covered with countless eyes.

Wherever this giant walked, the earth cracked open, and from the fissures poured red liquid like molten lava.

The temperature in the air began to rise—everything indicated that what he was seeing was no illusion.

Terror beyond words gripped Zhou Bai. All that remained on his face was a stiff smile. In these few minutes, his entire worldview, carefully constructed over a year, had utterly collapsed.

“What kind of world have I come to?
Have I gone mad?
Or has this world gone mad?”

Compared to the towering giant, Zhou Bai was insignificant as an ant, yet he was noticed.

The giant bent down, a massive hand reaching for Zhou Bai, its surface covered in gaping, roaring mouths, each exhaling great clouds of white mist with every breath.

Zhou Bai did not resist. He simply watched as the giant approached; in truth, he couldn’t move at all. Under such horrific pressure, every part of his body had lost all control.

Just as he was about to be crushed, the mist suddenly vanished, and his eyes returned to normal.

However, the whites of his eyes were laced with blood-red veins, and tears of blood trickled from his sockets.

Zhou Bai’s abnormal state was quickly noticed. He stood rigidly in the middle of the street, blood inexplicably streaming from his eyes—a sight alarming enough to startle passing pedestrians.

The crowd soon recognized him. Though Zhou Bai and his father had kept to themselves, wary of exposing their strangeness, the two of them still had a decent reputation in the neighborhood. People quickly gathered around to check on him.