Chapter 64: The Metaphysics Master is an Internet Celebrity, Part 3

Though it was called a wheelchair, with the technology of today, it possessed a degree of simple intelligence; in fact, it was scarcely inferior to some vehicles. Once the couple confirmed that their daughter suffered no lasting effects, their hearts were at ease and they returned to work, reserving their concern for her until evening. At home, a foolproof nanny robot attended to daily needs. While capable, this robot operated strictly according to pre-programmed routines, earning the moniker “foolproof.” Intelligent robots existed, albeit with only low-level intelligence—able to comprehend commands but lacking real understanding. Those were far more expensive, and even with the Liu family's modest wealth, they could not afford such luxury.

For Mu Yin, this way of life was familiar. Before the apocalypse, her circumstances were much the same. As an orphan, she could never afford a robot, not even the simplest kind.

During her convalescence at home, Mu Yin often watched various live streams, hoping to catch sight of the heroine. Whether the heroine no longer streamed or for some other reason, Mu Yin never found her. It was possible she had not yet arrived, though Mu Yin could not be sure.

Half a month passed swiftly. On this day, Mu Yin tuned in to the legal channel—unique to this world. Besides broadcasting legal cases, this channel offered another feature: each night at eight o’clock prime time, it aired execution videos of heinous criminals.

This time, the criminal Hong Bo was a monstrous serial killer. The program began by detailing his crimes, the laws he broke, and the impending execution. The nation had transitioned directly from feudalism to modernity, now a constitutional monarchy. Though human rights and equality were later emphasized, some traditions persisted, such as this punishment. When the law was established, someone had remarked that a criminal who knowingly broke the law forfeited all claim to human rights.

Thus, even after over two centuries in modern society, the death penalty had not been abolished. In fact, a decade or so ago, the execution process was brought to television, intended as a warning to the public: the law is harsh; do not entertain illusions.

The benefit was a reduced crime rate, though it never eradicated crime entirely. Some, driven by profit, would risk anything, and others—like Hong Bo—were so depraved that no punishment could deter them, only push them into deeper secrecy.

Watching Hong Bo’s execution by firing squad, Mu Yin felt nothing. Her parents, however, applauded; after all, Hong Bo had killed many, and their own daughter had nearly fallen victim to him. Afterward, Mu Yin returned to her room, preparing for rest.

As the night deepened and Mu Yin drifted to sleep, she suddenly sensed a cold, sinister presence enveloping her. Opening her eyes, she saw Hong Bo’s face twisted into a malicious grin before her. “Awake? Perfect timing,” he sneered.

“So you’ve become a ghost?” Mu Yin asked, intrigued. Given that this world contained non-human entities and the authorities were aware, it seemed unlikely they would allow criminals to become ghosts and harm others after death.

“Yes. Aren’t you afraid?” He had expected to terrify her, yet she showed not the slightest fear. Hong Bo was dissatisfied, his form morphing into that of his death.

“Ha. I wouldn’t fear you alive—why would I fear you as a ghost?” Mu Yin replied, utterly unimpressed.

“Such bravado. Do you think feigning composure will save you? You filthy rat, reporting me to the police—come down and accompany me!” Hong Bo was a lucid maniac; even as a vengeful spirit, he was not consumed by rage. Naturally, his first act was to seek revenge on Mu Yin.

Without further ado, he lunged at her, determined to kill the woman who had ruined him. Mu Yin raised her hand in response. Hong Bo scoffed, thinking her actions mere death throes.

He was unaware that Mu Yin had spent the past half month diligently cultivating her body technique using original energy, rapidly accumulating power. Her legs had long since healed; she merely feigned weakness to avoid suspicion.

Now, the energy she gathered was not supernatural power, but something akin to internal force. Unfortunately, the ancient world she had visited lacked martial arts, so she never learned the nature of true internal energy.

In the apocalypse, advanced physical cultivation allowed one to project energy outward, and Mu Yin was adept. Though she lacked means to deal with vengeful spirits—having yet to find a way to study metaphysics, and her supernatural abilities were not lethal—she could only rely on this.

Fortunately, her cultivation with original energy progressed swiftly, enabling her to protect herself.

“You—you can actually hurt me!” Hong Bo was stunned as Mu Yin’s internal force struck him. He tried to attack again, but Mu Yin slapped him aside, sending him flying. Realizing he was no match, he plunged into the wall and vanished.

Mu Yin stood, wheeled herself out of the room, and saw her parents still watching television in the living room. No sign of Hong Bo. She relaxed.

“Why are you up?” her mother asked, turning at the sound.

“Thirsty. Getting a glass of water.” Mu Yin went to the kitchen, poured herself a drink, and, assured that Hong Bo was gone, returned to her room.

Back in her room, she activated her optical computer—worn as a wristwatch, with a holographic screen—and began searching for information on metaphysics. She found a metaphysics website, which appeared to be a forum where ordinary people sought help.

Mu Yin browsed the posts, most of them pleas for assistance. Among them, she discovered one detailing basic metaphysical cultivation methods—a clear invitation for those with talent to learn. The method was simple: calm the mind, focus, communicate with the energies of heaven and earth, absorb and transform them for personal use. There were also cultivation formulas and a diagram of meridian circulation.

Upon investigation, Mu Yin found that the formulas were from widely known ancient texts, profound and difficult to comprehend—not everyone could master them.

This reminded her of the cultivators she met during the apocalypse; they too practiced classical philosophy known as the “Classic of Virtue,” said to encapsulate ancient understanding of the Way. Mu Yin had read it, but found it too obscure, and classical language eluded her.

Now, seeing the metaphysical philosophy of this world, she felt the “Classic of Virtue” was even more profound. Yet she was no longer ignorant of classical language; she could now cultivate directly from the text.