Resonance of Fate

"Hello, you are...?" Wang Jieming looked at Yu Xian, asking with some curiosity. The others also watched Wang Jieming and Yu Xian curiously. The two were simply too similar—not in terms of facial features, nor in their aura, but in an indescribable feeling. It was much like Yu Xian and Yu Tian. Although both were vampires and even alternate versions of each other from parallel worlds, their facial features actually differed; yet seeing each other, they would inevitably sense that uncanny familiarity. Niman thought of this possibility right then, suspecting Wang Jieming might be this world's Yu Xian. After all, this was also Earth, and since it was Earth, the concept of a "parallel-world Yu Xian" could very well exist. "Hello, I'm Yu Xian. We look quite alike," Yu Xian replied, quickly recovering his composure and smiling at Wang Jieming. Wang Jieming hurriedly extended his hand. "Hello, I'm Wang Jieming—'Wang' as in prince, 'Jie' as in outstanding, and 'Ming' as in bright." The two shook hands. The instant they touched, it was like two magnets snapping together. Yu Xian's eyes widened as he watched Wang Jieming's body dissolve into multicolored light and vanish. Before his mind could process what had happened, he found himself standing in an endless sea of flowers. Ring after ring of blossoms stretched out, each ring a different color, extending all the way to the horizon. *Where is this place?* *Nora, Niman, Little Nora, Little Huangquan, Shuishui, Yaoyao...* A flicker of panic seized him. He tried to cry out, but no sound came from his throat. In the next moment, his body moved on its own, throwing a straight punch forward. *Move! Move! Move!* Yu Xian tried to struggle, tried to resist, but his body felt as though it no longer belonged to him. Punch after punch flew out, each strike identical to the last. Moreover, his body only exercised his right arm, neglecting his left entirely. Once the initial panic subsided, a thought even crossed his mind: *If I keep training like this, won't one arm end up bigger than the other?* Anyone who exercised regularly knew that if you only trained one arm, the arm that got regular exercise would certainly be larger, while the neglected one would remain smaller. Some arm wrestlers or slap-fight competitors had dedicated training arms that grew remarkably thick—sometimes twice the size of the other. Still, worrying was useless to Yu Xian, as was anxiety or fear. No matter what he felt, no matter how desperately he wanted to leave, none of it mattered. His body remained mute, doing nothing but throwing punch after punch, as though it were as endless as the sea of flowers. Helpless, he could only settle his mind, turning over every possibility and taking stock of his situation. In the end, he simply gave up thinking and let his body move on its own. He even fell asleep, and upon waking, found his body was still throwing punches. Did punching like this achieve anything? No. Yu Xian could be certain he wasn't growing any stronger. The punches were still limp and powerless, entirely lacking form or discipline. The strength throughout his body wasn't drawn together into a single rope at all; so loose was it that he could only bring out forty to fifty percent of what this body could muster. With nothing better to do, he decided to try adjusting his punch. To his surprise, he found he could do it. The fist truly struck just as he envisioned—waist and stance unified, power braided into a single strand flowing all the way from his toes into his knuckles. *Smack!* That punch cracked through the air with a sharp sound. Yu Xian began to understand. It seemed he could only practice punching here; perhaps he could leave once his martial skill reached a certain realm. If he didn't focus on training his punches, his technique would never improve, and he might remain trapped in this sea of flowers forever. *Yu Xian, oh Yu Xian, you already decided that if you got out alive, you'd study hard and master real skills.* *Learning is learning, no matter where it happens. If I have to master fist techniques to get out of here, then I'll learn with everything I've got!* Giving himself that mental pep talk, Yu Xian adjusted his mindset and began throwing punches in earnest. Sure enough, he still possessed control over his body, though it was limited strictly to throwing punches—and only right-handed ones at that. One punch, two punches, three punches... Yu Xian practiced patiently. Stray thoughts still drifted into his mind from time to time—worrying about Nora and the others, or questioning the purpose of what he was doing. Yet he soon cast those distractions aside, gritting his teeth and pressing on with his practice. A single day would pass in the blink of an eye if one were reading novels, attending class, or playing video games. Practicing punches, however, was dull and interminable. Yu Xian had no idea how many strikes he threw. He was somewhat astonished to find that his body felt no fatigue, hunger, or even drowsiness. As long as he was willing, it seemed he could practice without end. The thoughts in his head grew fewer and fewer. Gradually, Yu Xian began to grasp the knack of it. After a week, he could distribute the force of his strike into each individual finger, even allotting a different amount of power to each. A month later, he could break the force of a single punch into multiple waves, sending them rippling through the air one after another. Thus, with a single strike, a succession of sharp cracks echoed like bursting air crackers. In the blink of an eye, a year passed. Without realizing it, Yu Xian had become capable of condensing his power into a fine line. Though it was clearly a punch, the razor-sharp force cleaved forward like a blade, instantly carving a line through the sea of flowers and slicing countless blossoms in two. Fortunately, the sea of flowers restored itself. Before his next punch was thrown, the blossoms had returned to their original state, awaiting his next devastation. In truth, Yu Xian had entirely lost track of time by now. He was completely immersed in his martial practice. Sometimes a whole week would pass without any improvement, yet he felt no rush, simply continuing to throw punch after punch. At other times, a flash of inspiration would strike, causing his technique to advance by leaps and bounds, breaking through to a new plane. Ten years, fifty years, a hundred years, five hundred years... Yu Xian forgot everything entirely, but his fist technique had attained unfathomable depths. A single strike could multiply into countless punches, and countless punches could merge into one. The force could travel immense distances while simultaneously landing right beside him. When a punch was thrown straight ahead, the sonic boom might detonate behind his back instead. A thousand years. Yu Xian threw a punch, and an invisible force descended from the sky. The ground ahead instantly caved inward, leaving an unmistakable fist imprint stamped into the earth. Five thousand years. Yu Xian struck out with what seemed like a featherlight tap, yet with him at the center, a dense downpour of fist force rained down, leaving the sea of flowers in utter ruin. Ten thousand years. Yu Xian threw a punch, and everything before him instantly turned to ash. If anyone capable of perceiving things at the subatomic level had been there, they would have seen that every single atom had taken a blow from that strike, utterly shattering the surrounding matter at its foundation. A hundred thousand years. Yu Xian threw a punch forward. No matter altered, no phenomenon manifested; only he knew where the force of that punch had gone. A faint smile touched his lips as he continued to strike—punch after punch. It was as though this were his one and only purpose. Ten thousand years in an instant. Or an instant lasting ten thousand years. After countless moments had elapsed, Yu Xian threw one more punch. The entire sea of flowers instantly shrank, and then collapsed...