Chapter Fifty-Four: Emotional Contagion

Now, Xiao Nan understood that what he had gained was, in essence, the ability to analyze the talents of others, thereby altering his own potential to make cultivation faster and breakthroughs easier. But aside from the fact that it consumed precious energy to activate this analytical and transformative power, what was the trigger mechanism?

“If I’m not mistaken, it should be my subconscious,” Xiao Nan mused, a sudden clarity flashing in his eyes, and at last, he had a plausible guess.

No matter how sharp one’s mind, no matter how disciplined, no one could control their own subconscious. In the course of a lifetime, with so many experiences, one’s original intentions might long be forgotten. What one truly longed for, deep within, might not even be clear to the wisest in the world.

The very word “subconscious” implied how elusive and hard to distinguish it was.

To Xiao Nan’s understanding, it was the most instinctive, most fervent desire within a person.

That day, watching his sister practice swordplay, with his temperament, he had simply admired the sight, wanting nothing more. Yet his subconscious insisted that he must possess, must inherit such an ability.

Thus, the bronze mirror had autonomously consumed energy, analyzed, and acquired the talent.

And today, in the midst of battle against the beastman, with several brushes with death, Xiao Nan had treated it as just another fight among many, never realizing how much he inwardly craved such a powerful body, such overwhelming strength.

So, the bronze mirror acted on its own accord, and at the moment he slew the beastman, it analyzed the beastman’s bodily composition and genetics, optimizing Xiao Nan’s own body.

“This mirror!” Xiao Nan shook his head. It was somewhat rebellious, utterly beyond his control.

Perhaps this was due to his own meager strength; things might change in the future.

Still, he wasn’t particularly disappointed. Even if he couldn’t actively trigger the analytical mechanism, at least it was somewhat in line with his own wishes.

Though, even he couldn’t quite grasp what those wishes truly were.

Yet, there was another hopeful possibility: perhaps if he personally slew his enemy, the mechanism would be more easily activated.

...

With this newly gained talent, the violent and bloodthirsty urges in his heart were not as confusing as the time he’d suspected he was turning into a woman.

Xiao Nan could clearly sense that the lingering aftereffects of alien emotions trying to cling to his spirit had weakened considerably now that his mental state had advanced.

At the very least, he could withstand this level of influence—it wouldn’t warp his character.

But if he were to analyze an immensely powerful ability, say, the talent of a god of the barbarian world, could he still endure it? Would he be overwhelmed and lose himself to the foreign desires and emotions?

The thought sent a chill down his spine. Perhaps this ability wasn’t something to be used lightly?

But then he reconsidered. The subconscious was a strange thing—he never knew when it might be triggered, so there was no real way to guard against it.

Moreover, as for those godlike masters, he’d probably be dead before he even had a chance to activate anything. Thinking about such things now was pointless.

The violent urges could be suppressed—though they lingered around him, they didn’t touch his heart. But what was this hunger gnawing at him?

Xiao Nan’s eyes were nearly green with hunger. After careful analysis, he finally realized that this wasn’t some unknown influence, but simple, genuine hunger—his body was warning him.

It wasn’t the right time or place to take a Vitality Pill in the street. Such a pill, used in conjunction with the Mind-Forge Body Technique to strengthen one’s body, required a calm environment and couldn’t be interrupted.

...

All around, the townsfolk continued to attack the beastman’s corpse with righteous fury. No one dared approach Xiao Nan; he seemed encased in a unique aura, one that made hearts tremble at a glance.

Though the others didn’t quite understand why, they instinctively kept their distance, seeking to avoid danger and misfortune. Even the bookstore owner, who’d been eager to cozy up to Xiao Nan, only watched from afar, not daring to draw near.

Only Zhang Xiaorou acted as if she hadn’t noticed anything.

Perhaps she had, but simply didn’t care.

Holding Xiao Nan’s “Moonlight” longsword, her expression was a little odd. “I only just realized—this sword is made of chrysanthemum-patterned steel. Teacher Tang is really good to you.”

It was indeed a fine sword. Even after being pulled from the beastman’s back, it shone in the hand like a pool of moonlight, unstained by blood.

Xiao Nan took the sword, sheathed it, and, seeing Zhang Xiaorou’s peculiar expression, couldn’t help but laugh. “Good to me? Teacher Tang is quite strict, actually. She even told me not to bother Qin Shuang, not to interfere with her cultivation.”

“Oh... so are you still going to see Qin Shuang?” Zhang Xiaorou blushed, stuck out her tongue, and asked in a whisper.

So she knew about the engagement after all.

It made sense. Zhang Yi himself was a skilled figure in Yuanjiang City, well-connected and well-informed. Xiao Nan’s situation was hardly a secret; anyone interested could find out.

Since Zhang Yi knew, given how much he doted on his daughter, he’d certainly have shared the news with her.

Xiao Nan shook his head. “No time to visit. Qin Shuang is cultivating at a top academy in the imperial capital—this is a critical period for her. What would I be doing there? Besides, I’m about to take my college entrance exams. I need to focus on raising my own vitality.

“Honestly, Teacher Tang is a little funny about it. She’s more concerned than Qin Shuang’s own mother, interfering and making promises just to get involved. Who knows what’s on her mind? As for this sword, I basically extorted it from her. No reason not to take it—she’s got plenty of treasures to spare.”

He gave the sword a satisfied shake, thinking that if not for getting it from Tang Zhixuan, he probably wouldn’t have been able to kill the beastman today.

Even if the beastman had stood still for him, he might not have been able to pierce it.

What level of strength did that beastman possess, anyway?

Xiao Nan had no idea. His memory held no knowledge of such things.

His predecessor had been a bookish scholar, less worldly than even Zhang Xiaorou.

“You really lucked out, Xiao Nan,” Zhang Xiaorou giggled. “I know about chrysanthemum-patterned swords. Even among mid-ranked warriors, few own one. My dad has an ice-cracked steel saber and treats it like a precious baby, sleeps with it every night.”

“Ice-cracked steel?”

“Yeah. Of the three great materials for a warrior’s weapon, ice-cracked steel ranks last, but it still makes sharp, durable blades with unique properties, quite unlike ordinary weapons.

“Chrysanthemum-patterned steel is even better, usually wielded by mid-ranked warriors... The best is dragon-scale steel. They say swords made from it are perfectly attuned to vital energy, amplifying attacks, and only at the master level can one unleash their full power...”

So that’s what having an accomplished father gets you. Zhang Xiaorou, with years of worldly experience, knew a bit about everything.

With her explanations, Xiao Nan filled in some gaps in his own knowledge.

“Enough talk,” he said. “After that fight, I’m starving. Xiaorou, do you know a good barbecue place? Lunch is on me.”

Xiao Nan forced himself to endure the waves of hunger, his eyes tinged with green.

The sensation was overwhelming, even making his head spin a little, though it did help to ease that lingering violent impulse.

The aura around him also became less intimidating.