UCS Chapter 152

Chapter 152

 

Once things returned to normal, Gao Gusheng took a fruit basket to visit his senior, Zhang Xu.

 

In reality, Zhang Xu was a lively, warm-hearted, and sunny young man—a popular figure on campus—who had simply had the misfortune of having his body taken over by the Heavenly Dao. The Heavenly Dao hadn’t used his body for anything disreputable; on the contrary, it had made his name famous throughout City B, turning him into a widely celebrated “campus heartthrob.”

 

Under normal circumstances, this would be a good thing. However, the Heavenly Dao had elevated Zhang Xu to an absurdly high pedestal—a standard so impossibly high that, even with another hundred years of effort, Zhang Xu could never live up to the persona of that perfect, idolized senior student.

 

Once he woke up, he would face an overwhelming outpouring of attention and concern, only to inevitably disappoint—and perhaps even incur the vitriol of—many people when his actual abilities fell short of the myth.

 

Zhang Xu was an outstanding young man in his own right, but he couldn’t compete with the Heavenly Dao; thus, he was destined to let everyone down.

 

Gao Gusheng felt a twinge of worry for him.

 

Especially since the Heavenly Dao’s occupation of his body had left him in a deep, unawakening coma.

 

Gao Gusheng glanced at Zhang Xu, who lay on the bed with his eyes tightly shut, then placed the fruit basket on the nightstand and sighed inwardly.

 

Gao Shi had been thoughtful about the situation. He had simply acquired the small company the Heavenly Dao had founded. That company had a web of complex, tangled connections; Zhang Xu, whose background was in computer science, would have been completely out of his depth. Mishandling it could have led to bankruptcy or even imprisonment.

 

Gao Shi had left the company dormant for the time being. If Zhang Xu wanted to pursue a career in that field, the company could be transferred to his name. If he wasn’t interested, he would be given a sum of money—a gesture of aid for an innocent person caught in the crossfire.

 

But that was all Gao Shi could do.

 

After all, the incident involving Zhang Xu had touched too many lives; one couldn’t simply wipe everyone’s memories without causing chaos.

 

As for the rest, Zhang Xu would have to navigate it on his own. The person keeping Zhang Xu company at his bedside was away for the moment—perhaps gone to the restroom. Gao Gusheng rested his chin in his hand and sighed, “Senior, oh Senior, please wake up soon. I still want to see your performance art exhibition.”

 

“Senior Zhang Xu, do you remember? You still owe the Academic Affairs Office a ten-thousand-word letter of apology. If you don’t show up soon, the Disciplinary Committee is going to come breathing down your neck.”

 

…

 

Ever since that day, Zhang Xu had been trapped in a bizarre, surreal dreamscape.

 

In the dream, he had achieved great fame and renown, with countless people extending offers to him.

 

Yet, he was unhappy.

 

He knew that wasn’t really him; the true “him” was trapped in a cage, unable to resist or wake up, forced to watch helplessly as an intruder used his body to attack innocent people.

 

He struggled for a long time, but every attempt to break free resulted in even more agonizing blows. Eventually, he drifted into a daze, sinking into a slumber within that kaleidoscopic world of shifting light and shadow, thinking that perhaps never waking up might actually be more peaceful.

 

Then, a voice penetrated the cage, shattering the surreal dreamscape—someone was calling his name.

 

He followed the sound, walking on until he saw a light.

 

He opened his eyes.

 

…

 

Gao Gusheng was stunned.

 

He hadn’t expected Senior Zhang Xu to open his eyes after just a few words.

 

No way—was the Academic Affairs Office really that formidable? Or did the Disciplinary Committee, led by Sister Yun, hold such immense authority that a mere two sentences were enough to scare the senior awake? Zhang Xu opened his eyes and stared blankly at him without reacting; Gao Gusheng thought to himself, *Oh no—has my senior been reduced to a fool?*

 

He hurriedly called out, “Senior?”

 

Those two words seemed to flip a switch; Zhang Xu suddenly grabbed Gao Gusheng’s hands, strained to lift his upper body, took a deep breath, and loudly pleaded, “Please marry me!”

 

Gao Gusheng: … =_=

 

Gao Gusheng: ‘Great. It seems I don’t need to worry about Senior struggling with the psychological adjustment after all.’

 

…

 

Yun Zhiyi looked at the various department heads standing before her, put away her tennis racket, and asked in surprise, “What brings you all here?”

 

The department heads exchanged glances. The head of the Discipline Department took a deep breath and stepped forward with a solemn, resolute air. “Yun Zhiyi, the nine of us department heads are jointly requesting that you resume the role of President.”

 

Yun Zhiyi was momentarily stunned; the ponytail at the back of her head swayed with the movement.

 

Then, she smiled. “Alright then—I’d be rude to refuse.”

 

She took the President’s badge and pinned it to her chest. With a wave of her hand, she laughed, “A new official needs to make a splash—let’s go hold a meeting!”

 

A chorus of enthusiastic agreement rang out.

 

In truth, Yun Zhiyi didn’t feel any overwhelming elation. Since resigning, she had been reflecting on herself and studying how the “Fake Heavenly Dao” handled affairs. After all, having served as the Heavenly Dao for tens of thousands of years, that entity possessed methods Yun Zhiyi could learn from—even if nearly every crisis had been directly or indirectly caused by the Fake Heavenly Dao itself.

 

She voraciously absorbed the knowledge imparted by the “False Heavenly Dao,” the light gradually returning to her eyes. In her view, only the weak wallowed in despair and self-abandonment; the strong would absorb their enemy’s abilities while constantly reflecting and moving forward.

 

The Heavenly Dao was right—she was a natural-born leader.

 

The department heads were no ordinary individuals; to secure their positions within the student council of a prestigious school teeming with talent required genuine capability. Once the intimidating aura imposed by the False Heavenly Dao dissipated, they immediately recognized the anomalies in the events that had just transpired.

 

Zhang Xu’s voluntary resignation dispelled their last lingering doubts, prompting them to jointly petition for Yun Zhiyi’s return.

 

Reaching this point was not merely a result of their own vigilance; Yun Zhiyi’s proven competence had already won everyone’s genuine respect and willing submission.

 

Yun Zhiyi walked amidst the department heads, a smile on her face and her ponytail swaying lightly.

 

…

 

Sun Jun gazed wryly at the canvas before him; glancing at Wu Qin, his smile turned even more rueful.

 

Wu Qin kept a stern face. “What are you looking at me for? Is there a painting on my face?”

 

Sun Jun rubbed his nose and hurriedly began his daily fundamental exercises.

 

During the time he had been under control, he had simply trailed after Zhang Xu, barely touching a brush.

 

Art is a skill where a day or two of neglect might go unnoticed, but a prolonged hiatus can cause one’s technique to atrophy.

 

For the past few days, Wu Qin had been pushing him hard to drill the basics; he even dreamed of canvases and brushes sprouting legs and running toward him.

 

Sun Jun stole a glance at Wu Qin, who glared back with a stony expression; he quickly refocused his mind on his painting.

 

As he painted, a smile began to play on his lips. Painting requires a deep connection with the natural world, making him particularly susceptible to falling into the trap of the Heavenly Dao and becoming controlled.

 

He remembered everything that happened while he was under that influence—how the images of Gao Gusheng and the others had gradually blurred in his memory, how the emotions he once cherished were eroded until they could no longer stir his heart in the slightest, leaving him viewing them as mere strangers.

 

It was terrifying.

 

The friendship he shared with them was what he treasured most, and his art had always been infused with those very feelings; the loss of that emotional connection made him feel as though he could barely hold his brush.

 

Fortunately, just as he was being forced to attack Gao Gusheng and the others, he managed to wrest back control of his body. Had he failed, he would have lived with a lifetime of regret, even after regaining his senses.

 

And then there was his teacher…

 

Sun Jun smiled as he looked at the canvas, then glanced up at Wu Qin. Wu Qin had initially kept a stern face, but seeing his recovered apprentice smiling at him with such affectionate admiration and joy, he found it impossible to remain severe.

 

He waved his hand in resignation. “Alright then—finish this piece, and then take a ten-minute break.”

 

Sun Jun’s eyes crinkled into happy crescents. “Okay, Teacher.”

 

…

 

Zhou Jing was taken away for a physical examination before being brought back to the Mathematics Department’s faculty lounge.

 

He bowed his head respectfully. “I am sorry, Teachers. I was wrong.”

 

His inner thoughts had been manipulated; he had fallen into a trap and was controlled into turning against the very teachers who had guided him.

 

He felt deeply guilty toward these elderly professors who had always protected him as if he were the apple of their eye. The elderly professors exchanged glances and sighed softly, “It’s good to have you back—it’s good to have you back.”

 

During the time he had been under control, he had lost his sense of self; yet, precisely because of that control, he had been drawn closer to the Heavenly Dao—and closer still to the fundamental essence of the Great Dao—allowing his abilities to advance rapidly.

 

While Sun Jun’s abilities had been awakened, his own had soared to new heights.

 

More importantly, he had caught a glimpse of the Great Dao itself.

 

Many problems that had once seemed impossible to solve now yielded easily; as he looked at the numbers, he felt a growing sense of familiarity—a joy akin to “meeting a new friend who feels like an old acquaintance.”

 

Given time, he might well make a groundbreaking leap in a specific field of mathematics.

 

It was for this reason—and because he feared what might happen to Sun Jun, Gao Gusheng, and other innocent students if his escape from control were discovered—that he hadn’t fled immediately after breaking free. Instead, he had continued to feign submission, planning to strike at a critical moment; even if he couldn’t wound the Heavenly Dao, he could at least splatter it with blood.

 

Regardless, the fact remained that he had deceived everyone while they worried about him, causing the elderly professors—advanced in years as they were—to grieve on his behalf.

 

Driven by guilt, he immersed himself completely in his studies, even taking up residence in the professors’ quarters.

 

Then, one day, he dreamt of the algorithm for a specific equation. He woke with a start, rushed over, and hurriedly scribbled down what he had seen in his dream.

 

Having finished in one continuous burst of inspiration, he faintly heard sounds coming from outside. “……Little Jing has really been pushing himself too hard lately. Even though we decided he should take the time to properly process what he gained while under that control, seeing him like this every day makes me worry he might just drop dead from the strain.”

 

“Bite your tongue! What kind of talk is that, you old coot? Little Jing is just a kid—what’s this nonsense about dropping dead?”

 

“Sigh, I honestly don’t know whether to curse or praise that wretched fake Heavenly Dao. That period really did benefit Little Jing immensely, but if he hadn’t possessed the willpower to break free from its control, he’d likely be long gone by now.”

 

The three old men were whispering as they gently pushed open the door, only to find themselves locking eyes with Zhou Jing.

 

The old men were dumbfounded; judging by Zhou Jing’s expression, he had clearly overheard everything. Their faces flushed bright red as they stammered, “Little Jing, we…”

 

Zhou Jing stepped forward and gave them a gentle hug. “I understand, Teachers. I understand everything.”

 

……

 

“He’s broken the record again!”

 

“Holy crap, Mo Hua, you absolute beast—at least leave us a way to survive!”

 

Mo Hua picked up a glass of water and downed the whole thing in the blink of an eye.

 

Breaking a national record using nothing but raw physical ability—without relying on any special powers—meant that the epithet “beast” was well and truly deserved.

 

His friends were grinning and draping their arms around his shoulders when they noticed a group of people approaching, looking somewhat shifty and evasive.

 

Mo Hua looked over and recognized the leader: the very person who had once twisted the truth to help Zhang Xu frame him. Trailing behind were the classmates who had joined the mob in attacking him back then.

 

They exchanged glances before the leader stepped forward, holding out a gift box, his face flushed as red as a monkey’s backside. “I’m sorry, Mo Hua. I was out of my mind back then.”

 

Behind him stood a crowd of people holding small, inexpensive gifts—tokens of apology offered in all sincerity.

 

Once the influence of the Heavenly Dao faded, these students recalled the past events; upon verifying the truth, they were overcome with shame and came bearing gifts to apologize.

 

As for the few students who had originally insulted Gao Gusheng, they did not show up.

 

After all, the Heavenly Dao merely stirred up the faint, malicious thoughts already lurking within people’s hearts; had they harbored no malice to begin with, they never would have uttered such hurtful words.

 

Perhaps they still believed they had done nothing wrong.

 

But it no longer mattered. Mo Hua was accustomed to slapping faces right then and there; he and Gao Gusheng would continue to rise to ever-greater heights, leaving these people to look up at them in awe.

 

Mo Hua accepted the gift before him and smiled.

 

It was a smile as clear and resonant as the first ring of a newly forged sword.

 

…

 

When Gao Gusheng returned to school, his first class was Finance.

 

As soon as he stepped into the lecture hall, the entire room fell silent.

 

Gao Gusheng was bewildered, caught in an awkward limbo—neither advancing nor retreating—with one foot hovering in mid-air, until he saw Yun Zhiyi waving at him.

 

It was his usual seat, surrounded by his close friends.

 

He sat down and asked in a low voice, “What’s going on?”

 

Yun Zhiyi smiled and patted Gao Gusheng on the shoulder. “What else could it be? Little Sheng’s charm just keeps growing.”

 

While Gao Shiying cultivated the world through merit, Gao Gusheng had saved the masses with his tears; consequently, all living beings in this world felt a natural affinity toward them—a sentiment that was especially strong regarding Gao Gusheng, who was himself a spiritual flower.

 

Moreover, this emotion was far gentler and milder than the volatile feelings that had previously sparked social unrest; it carried no aggression. Gao Gusheng chatted casually with his friends, acting as if Zhou Jing and Sun Jun’s earlier departure had never happened.

 

It wasn’t until the teacher approached, textbooks tucked under an arm, that Gao Gusheng playfully punched each of them on the shoulder and whispered, “You two are treating us this time, got it?”

 

Zhou Jing adjusted his glasses while Sun Jun smiled; the two exchanged a glance and whispered back with a laugh, “Of course.”

 

…

 

When Gao Gusheng returned home, Gao Shi had just stepped out of the bathroom, and a meal was already laid out on the table. Gao Gusheng let out a delighted “Wow!” and rushed over.

 

“Dad, what’s the special occasion? So much good food!”

 

Usually, his dad restricted his intake of things like fried chicken.

 

Gao Shi reached out and ruffled his hair. “We’re welcoming a new member to the family.”

 

Gao Gusheng looked utterly shocked. “I… am I getting a younger brother or sister?”

 

He frantically patted his pockets, a woebegone look on his face. “Why so sudden? I haven’t even prepared a gift.”

 

Amused yet exasperated, Gao Shi flicked him on the forehead. “Daozhang, hurry up—your son is about to turn the house upside down.”

 

Ying Bujie walked out of the bedroom and glanced at Gao Shi with a faint smile—a look that sent an inexplicable chill down Gao Shi’s spine.

 

Ying Bujie stepped in front of Gao Gusheng and said, “It overcame countless perils to return to your side; do not let it down.”

 

He pulled a tiny kitten from his sleeve. It was minuscule; upon seeing the light, it opened its eyes. Its spindly legs were still unsteady, yet it lifted its head and let out a joyful, high-pitched mew at Gao Gusheng.

 

The kitten was a beautiful little orange tabby; its fur was a rich, deep color that took on a faint reddish hue in the sunlight. Gao Gusheng stood dazed for a long moment before gingerly taking the little red cat.

 

Ying Bujie then drew a wisp of black mist from his sleeve; terrified of him, the mist hurriedly darted onto Gao Gusheng’s neck, disguising itself as a black silk scarf.

 

It used to be large enough to envelop Gao Gusheng entirely, but now it was reduced to the size of a mere scarf.

 

Still, it was a relief; although ninety percent of its mass had been devoured, it was at least alive and retained its sentience.

 

Born of yin energy and ghostly aura, the black mist would live forever—staying by his side—so long as it wasn’t completely torn apart.

 

Gao Shi dried his hair and pointed at the little red cat. “Don’t let it limp again this time.”

 

Gao Gusheng was overwhelmed by a surge of immense joy. He looked up in a daze, his expression hovering between tears and laughter; ultimately, his face settled into a look that was impossible to define as either happy or sad, with tears welling up in his eyes.

 

Da Huang and Da Hei had already made their way to the table. Da Huang’s tail was wagging like a spinning wheel, while Da Hei remained more composed, though his eyes were fixed intently on the fried chicken cutlet before him.

 

It smelled so good—it was enough to make a dog drool with desire.

 

Watching their greedy expressions, Gao Shi laughed and scolded, “Do you two really think you’re dogs? It’s embarrassing!”

 

Ying Bujie smiled faintly; he handed out chopsticks to everyone and took his seat opposite Gao Shi. Gao Shi waved at Gao Gusheng. “Lele, your Uncle Longs are starving to death.”

 

“Come on, let’s eat.”

 

Gao Gusheng blinked; his voice held a hint of a sob, yet he smiled as he replied,

 

“Coming!”

 

##

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