This ti, Fu Qingjun was completely torn apart.
Vermilion Sand.
This is a world of female dominance, where n are chaste, waiting in the boudoir to get married?
"Ah! I’m sorry." She suddenly realized, knowing she had asked sothing inappropriate, and was filled with regret,
"I was too abrupt, truly sorry! It’s just that I feel, feel... just..." She was at a loss for words, unable to find any mild explanation, and the atmosphere was sowhat awkward.
Under normal circumstances, she wouldn’t be so out of control, but her nerves were severely rattled, causing her mind to blurt out that question...
"Please... give a reply tomorrow. That job is really important to ." The gentle, beautiful older sister bent down to bow, overwheld by the impact, and quickly returned to the next room.
"This beautiful older sister in her twenties is still too young." Fu Qingjun watched her enter the room for a while and did not shut the door behind her. Instead, he gazed at the environnt below.
The sun was bright; it was afternoon.
It was an old four-story residential building, like a student dormitory.
The residences inside were aligned, with a corridor connecting them, a rod for hanging clothes, and the houses had a sense of age, appearing quite old.
"Still a peaceful world. The Tanabata here hasn’t encountered the weird events from our place." Taking a deep breath, he looked at the number plate, living in 306 on the third floor.
Next to the door was an old-fashioned tin mailbox, and the first floor below seed to be a series of eateries bustling with pedestrians.
So n on the street had short, clean-cut hairstyles, full of muscles like dock laborers from the last century, while others had high buns and flowing long hair, dressed like ancient scholars.
Distinguishing professions by hairstyle?
He gazed into the distance.
Perhaps because it was a slum, even the utility poles from the industrial era were absent, along with old-style cars. Occasionally, so people on bicycles, dressed uniquely and uniformly, seed to be constables, carrying bulky black long-barreled guns.
There were even occasional blonde foreigners on the road.
In the distance was the district gate, with a high sign hung up, with both sides stating:
[Foreigners must register to enter]
Fu Qingjun vaguely felt like he was seeing the old-fashioned atmosphere of the Axe Gang in the "Kung Fu" movie.
"Similar to a century-old era? The environnt is chaotic, but at first glance, there isn’t a good place for disposing of corpses... it’s best to hide for now." He stared at the door next to him for a while, confirming that Li Mo hadn’t reappeared, and then slowly returned to the room, closing the door.
He looked again at the corpse, suddenly unsure how to handle it.
After so thought, he lifted the sleeve on the corpse’s arm, revealing strong bronze muscles with a little red dot, relaxing Fu Qingjun’s expression slightly,
"Chastity is intact..."
Untainted, he could directly rule out one cause for the suicide.
"But, even such a tough guy has Vermilion Sand."
Fu Qingjun was astounded; it seed ridiculous.
He was curious about the customs of this world.
"It seems civilization is clearly still in the industrial age, a backward technological world, already having airplanes and artillery, yet vaguely resembling ancient muscular warriors?"
Clearly, it’s not a female-dominated world.
Otherwise, why seek out Fu Qingjun, a martial artist seemingly working at the docks? Could it be related to martial training, maintaining virginity, and preserving yang energy?
"But the priority is still handling the corpse issue."
Relaxing, a strong sense of hunger flooded his mind, his brain dizzy from severe energy deficiency.
He hurriedly rummaged through the room for food.
Luckily, there was still half a pot of rice in the jar. He imdiately started cooking, devouring a al, taking over half an hour to gradually digest and barely regain his composure.
"The mont I escaped from the loop, I truly beca a monster."
Fu Qingjun stared blankly at the vanished large pot of rice, eating more than two or three bricklaying n combined, "I’m still thin and weak despite eating so much, all the energy is absorbed into my head."
Fu Qingjun recalled a science article he once read:
Humans who excessively use their brains will massively consu bodily energy.
"Could I be madly eating to convert energy, unable to keep up with continuous brain energy consumption?" Fu Qingjun was suddenly troubled.
If it’s as simple as addition and subtraction, six thousand souls combined in , wouldn’t my brain’s energy consumption be six thousand tis higher?
Can he sustain it?
This is a matter of power consumption.
Doesn’t that an inevitable death?
Even more miserable.
Phew!
After so ti, as Fu Qingjun continued digesting to eat his fill, the sense of weakness wasn’t as intense. Simultaneously, he noticed his brain, exploding with spiritual power, felt painful and itchy, as if sothing was growing out of it, breaking through the soil.
He touched his head, and found he’d begun to regrow fine, soft, fluffy young hair, strong and supple.
I’m growing hair?
Suddenly,
Sitting up in shock from illness!
He was overjoyed,
but quickly noticed sothing even more bizarre.
His hair seed like soft arms, controllable, movable, even able to stand upright, making various motions.
Rustling.
He quickly rushed to the mirror, his head resembling a row of short grass, swaying with the wind.
"Sure enough, once I escaped from the loop, the massive spirit developed mutant abilities."
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