I can only bulge my eyes at the old man as he calmly adjusts my rigid body, positioning me into a cross-legged sit against the wall.
"You should calm yourself," he says, like a teacher scolding a hyperactive student.
I want to shout—"I CAN'T!"—but all that comes out is a low groan.
"You said something?" he asks.
Another groan.
He smiles, then pats my cheek—twice.
"If you behave, I will let you speak."
I groan again, this time out of pure frustration.
"Well?" he presses.
I stare into his eyes, locking my gaze on him, hoping he understands my resistance.
He doesn't budge.
I finally soften my gaze, conceding.
"Good." He nods, then taps his finger against a spot on my neck.
My body instantly unlocks.
"Who are you?" The words spill from my mouth before I even think.
"It should be me asking you that question," he responds, flicking my temple with his fingers.
"I'm Long—"
"Yi Hao," I cut him off.
His eyebrows raise slightly.
"You're the priest I came here to see."
"What a rude young man," he rebukes, flicking my forehead this time.
I scowl.
"I'm Bennet. I need to see Han. I need his help to—"
"—Control your speed," he interrupts me this time.
I narrow my eyes. "How do you—"
"Han can't help you. He can't even keep up with your speed."
I open my mouth, but before I can argue—
"But I can," he adds.
That sparks something inside me.
"Wait—are you as fast as me?" I ask, excitement creeping into my voice.
He shrugs. "It depends. I simply absorb your energy and adjust my speed to match yours."
"Adjust?" I echo, trying to wrap my head around it. "You can just...tell your brain what speed to run at?"
"Of course. Once you learn to tell your brain who's in charge, you can make it do whatever you want."
I stare at him, utterly fascinated.
He chuckles, clearly enjoying my expression.
"You want to learn?"
"You bet!"
He giggles—an odd contrast to his wise demeanor—then grabs my hand.
"Come on."
With a single pull, he helps me stand—
And that's when I see it.
My body…
Still sitting against the wall.
Motionless.
Just sitting there.
Like a lifeless shell.
I stagger back, my mind short-circuiting. "Wait—what?!"
"Relax," Master Long says casually.
"I'M DEAD?!"
"No," he chuckles. "You just separated your spirit from your body."
"ISN'T THAT THE SAME THING?!"
Master Long just laughs, shaking his head.
Then, without answering, he turns and walks away—forcing me to follow.
I have no choice.
I need to understand what's happening.
We move through a dark, narrow hallway, the air thick with the scent of incense.
At the very end, he tears open a curtain, revealing a dimly lit room filled with smoke.
In the middle of the room, sitting motionless on a thin floor mat, is a shadowed figure.
A body.
"Who—"
"It's me," Master Long answers before I finish my question.
My breath catches.
He turns to me, as if this explains everything.
"I was meditating when you barged into the temple."
I stare at him.
At him.
At his body.
"Then who was fighting me?"
He just smirks.
This man is terrifying.
And I admire him for it.
He continues walking, stopping at a circular door at the end of the corridor.
"What is this?" I ask.
"Behind this door is my training room."
His eyes gleam in the dim light.
"Before you open it, you must state the goal of your training."
I blink. "Okay…"
He gestures impatiently.
"Well? Say it!"
I take a deep breath, clenching my fists.
And then—
"I want to be able to control my speed."
Master Long raises his eyebrows but says nothing. Instead, he simply opens the door and steps inside.
I follow him, still catching my breath from everything that's happened.
"What is this place?" I ask, scanning the massive, empty space.
"Just let me prepare for a moment," he says, walking over to a wall where a control panel is installed.
I fold my arms, shifting my weight. "Sure."
"Are you ready?"
"Confidently, yes."
The second I say that, a collar snaps tight around my neck.
"What the hell—?!" I shout, hands flying up to claw it off. But it won't budge.
"You said you were ready." Master Long smirks. "The collar can only be removed once you complete the training."
"WHAT KIND OF TRAINING IS THIS?!"
"This..." He spreads his arms wide.
The room shifts.
Suddenly, I'm standing on a horse-racing track—
And right next to me is a fighter jet.
I blink. "I need to DECREASE my speed, not INCREASE it!"
Master Long waves his hand, and out of nowhere—
A phantom slap smacks the back of my head.
"Just let me explain first," he scolds.
I grit my teeth, rubbing my head.
"Your goal is this," he says, motioning toward the jet. "You must run as fast as you can—but you may never get ahead of the jet."
"WHAT?!"
"On my mark..."
The jet's engine roars to life.
"Get set..."
Before I can even argue, he yells—
"GO!"
The jet launches forward, blazing down the track.
I stand there, dumbfounded.
Another phantom slap smacks the back of my head.
"RUN!"
My body reacts instinctively—I explode forward, feet pounding the track.
I expect the jet to be untouchable—but within a second, I'm already side-by-side with it.
Another second, and I've overtaken it.
Then—
ZAP!
A searing electric shock surges through my collar.
"AAARGH!!"
My muscles spasm. My legs buckle. I collapse onto the track.
Master Long is suddenly in front of me, grinning.
"Oh yeah, I forgot to mention..." He laughs. "That happens if you fail."
I glare at him through the pain.
The old man stretches his hand out, helping me up.
"Again!"
The fighter jet roars to life.
"RUN!" he orders.
I run again—but this time, I intentionally hold back. I run slower.
There. Problem solved.
ZAP!!
"AAARGH!!"
Another shock rips through me.
Master Long shakes his head, wagging a finger.
"No, no, no! You can't cheat, Mr. Bennet!" he scolds, helping me up again.
I pant, my body still twitching from the shock.
"HOW can I lose, then?!" I growl.
"That's what you must order your brain to do," he lectures, as if I'm dense. "You must convince your brain that you are not faster than the jet."
I snort, still breathing hard.
"Okay, I'll TRY."
WHACK!
A phantom slap hits me again.
"No! You DO!" Master Long shouts. "'Try' means you hesitate! You command your brain—show it who's boss!"
I glare at him.
But deep down, I know he's right.
"Fine," I mutter. "I'll do it."
I thought it would be easy—just order my brain to be slower.
But after dozens of shocks, I realize: I was dead wrong.
It takes me God-knows-how-many attempts before I finally manage to run slower than the fighter jet.
I don't even know if it's because I mastered control—or if my body is just exhausted from all the running and pain.
Master Long claps enthusiastically.
"Good! Very good, Mr. Bennet!"
I double over, hands on my knees, trying to breathe.
"So... I succeeded?" I pant.
Master Long's grin widens.
"Next level… BULLET TRAIN!"
I snap my head up. "What?!"
Before I can even protest—
"GO!!"
Turns out, the fighter jet was only Level One.
After that came Bullet train, Commercial jet, Missile, Race car, Falcon, Cheetah, Lion, Dog
Each progressively slower than the last.
But here's the thing:
This is the spiritual world.
There's no real exhaustion.
No starvation. No thirst.
I don't even know how long I've been here.
Weeks? Months?
Time doesn't exist here.
-
Master Long's voice booms across the track.
"EXCELLENT JOB, MR. BENNET!"
I exhale deeply, wiping my sweat.
I've finally done it. I can now control my speed like a normal person.
"So, the training is done, right?"
Master Long grins.
"One level left."
I blink. "What?"
A figure appears beside me.
I turn my head—
And freeze.
A SLOTH blinks slowly at me.
"You've GOTTA be kidding me."
Master Long raises his hand—
"GO!"
I barely move—
And ZZZAAAAAP!
The shock rips through me before I even fully step forward.
The sloth hasn't even moved yet.
"SHIT!!!"
How the hell am I supposed to be slower than a SLOTH?!