Immortality Is No Easy Task

Chapter 11

Confusion.

The one, single word that could sum up his state of mind.

There were many things he was unsure about, that could, quite frankly be unveiled by simply opening his eyes.

It was an unspeakable itch to do so, yet he knew better to do that, leaving him in a horrible state, left hanging in-between the threads.

While he knew that opening his eyes would not have a good result, rather, he would most likely have his soul devoured by his new ‘left eye’.

Recalling the cold to touch, viscous liquid that has just been splattered onto him, he couldn't but think what it was.

What exactly is happening?

The questions of his mind could be solved with the opening of an eyelid, yet he could not do so.

He knew that he would come to know it eventually, but being unable to know it for the time being killed him.

The gnawing feeling at the edge of his soul was increasingly griping.

The unpleasant, unsettling pain that came from the very depths of his soul constantly threatened him, making the heaviness in his heart grow.

Yet there was ultimately absolutely nothing he could do.

Pain was causing him to be additionally irrational and on the edge, playing a part in his impatience, messing up his already jumpy state of mind.

As if restrained, he could only endlessly endure the torture it brought.

Coupled with the complete inability to uncover his current state, the toxic duo were driving him crazy.

A cold palm touched his face, resting two fingers, one on his upper eyelid and the other on the lower.

Qi Chen could clearly feel her fingertips around his right eye, her finger tips were as if digging into the flesh around his eyes, yet their cold sensation helped relieve some of his mental pain.

He could feel his right eye being forcefully opened, causing him to nearly lift his left eye, struggling to keep it close.

“Right, here you go.”

Her hands were freezing cold, the same temperature as the viscous liquid that has previously been splattered onto him.

The feeling of her freezing cold fingertips, intertwined with the pain of reopening a wound, was a weird feeling to behold.

The cold touch was like a winter breeze, bringing a much wanted relief from the pain in his right eye, or at least what was left of it, his socket, yet at the same time, the two mixed together to produce an even worse feeling.

Ever since he regained his senses, the pain that his empty sockets brought was drilling into his eyes, forcing his tightly lidded eye to open merely had the unwanted effect of amplifying the pain.

A spherical object about a inch in diameter was pressed against the outside of his sockets, sinking slightly into the empty socket.

It wasn't exactly able to fit into a small opening such as his eyehole, yet with a bit of force, everything is possible.

Was it the eye?

The effect of it against his eye was more than a touch, it was painful, but a pain well within his tolerance.

In other words, the pain was more than bearable, simply like forcefully pressing a open wound, the pain only came from the forceful push, not from anything else.

After all, in simply a d-

Has it been a day?

It certainly felt like a day, yet with his slumber in-between, the time could very well be much more.

In about a day, he has experienced a whole upgrade in his pain tolerance, if evolution was increasing your pain tolerance beyond normal means, he would have very well been a perfectly evoluted being.

He was confident that he could take even a knife stab without shrieking, something a previous him would not be able to perform.

Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

Right.

Of course.

After all, that him was still ‘normal’.

‘Pop!’

The spherical object entered his right eye socket, with a grand entrance.

A clean, crisp sound, much similar to that of a giant bubble popping was produced, even leaving a slight echo as it resounded in his ears, or maybe the hole in his right eye.

It fitted perfectly, the pain he felt when it was popped in was negligible, however he could still feel that it was a foreign object.

After all the difference from tightly shutting your eye and seeing absolutely nothing is different, his left eye saw the darkness from tightly shutting his eye, while his right eye clearly saw absolutely nothing, it has not yet been connected.

At that moment, it was a little more than a orb in his eye.

Seeing nothing and seeing black seemed similar, but when you truly experiencing it, you could easily tell them apart.

Yet the sphere in his eye socket was a welcome feeling.

His previous quick and unstable breathing slowed, as he felt a wave of relief wipe over his mind, a clean slate had once again overidden his worries, finally allowing him a small snippet of relaxation.

A sigh of relief briefly left his mouth, leaving him drunk on the pleasure brought by knowing he would not be devoured by remnant hatred of a Nascent Soul from god knows what era.

“Done.”

“You won't die for now.”

Her voice was still as lively, yet had a weak undertone to it, a genuinely contradicting statement.

Yet that was exactly the energy she was radiating at the moment, it was the only description that would have been accurate.

“I will connect your right eye now.”

“After this, you will gain the ability to peer into the Spirit World.”

“At least, you should, if not, half your life has been traded for a sinkhole of ornaments.”

“But don't feel too bad, I have also invested quite a bit.”

Indeed quite a bit, she silently muttered.

Moving her two fingers in front of his left eye, she pointed it directly at it, a white light escaping her finger tips, flowing into his eye.

The white light entered his right eye, a light so blinding that it even shone through effortlessly his harshly lidded right eye, ruthlessly assaulting his eye.

It was as if staring at the sun with no protection, unable to move away and fully opened. It caused him to squirm, as his face quickly crumpled into a look of agony.

His eyes desperately wanted to avoid the endless pouring of blinding radiance that it could not escape from.

She tightly pressed against his face, forcing it to sit still, while serving the function of flattening his face, it lacked the previous gentleness she had.

“Don't move.”

He quickly adhered to her command, pausing his involuntary squirming with much will, yet it would all prove futile.

The white light continued to pour into his eye, yet her hand did not move one bit, rightly clasping onto his face, promoting a suffocating feeling.

The light was blinding, making his resistance almost futile as he instinctively tried to avoid it, yet with her hand tightly holding him in place. he could only squirm like an ant in front of a cultivator.

Her hand only clasped harder the more he resisted, at some point, his body went limp, receiving the ‘rebirth’ with no resistance.

Futility.

While it was a effect he wanted, to not move, it had him in a chokehold.

It felt horrible, for even your body to give up resisting, even when it was fighting a losing battle, but it left a bitter, crushing taste of hopelessness.

Alas, one is but man.

He prepared his soul and self for the ‘cleansing’ pain that was about to befall him, yet his fears were not answered.

Rather, it wasn't painful in the least.

More so, it felt even comfortable as the gnawing at his soul dissipated.

Between the feeling of his light slowly dimming and the absolute torture of his soul being eaten alive finally fading, it brought a profound sense of relief, tinged with even a bit of happiness knowing he has been spared.

However, he could clearly sense that this feeling was neither of them.

It wasn't even in-between or even any of them to begin with.

It was a harmonising, somewhat fetal-like sensation, it felt as if he was a unborn baby again, swimming in the warm pool of life in his mother’s womb, giving him a extreme sense of closeness and warmth.

After all, a mother’s love is often the best feeling that could befall on any being.

This feeling…

Right.

It feels like home.

Human in the end, am I not?

A laughable feeling.

The warm sensation hooked up all his memories that he forcefully buried.

For survival he said, but in a blaze of glory they said.

Like a fisherman, catching dozens of fish in a single net, it was undoubtedly a huge catch that brought him joy.

The sheer volume overwhelmed him in the purest sense of happiness.

He could clearly see his parents wearing a smile as he proudly told them he had passed yet another imperial examination.

Despite their heavy complains of him being a scholar instead of a farmer like them, any bit of money they saved up went to buying him new books.

His siblings, who supported him without a single complain, for his foolish, unrealistic dream of becoming an imperial official, they often skimmed anywhere they could to simply get him but a few more lectures and books in the city.

Every single one of these…

The sweetest bit of his memories.

Love.

A quiet smile, in the drawling noon glow of the setting sun, in the lovely embrace of what is called ‘family’, whilst having a quick, lazy, snuggly nap.

It felt like that.

It felt heavenly.

It felt…

The feeling was different, it wasn't the cruel pain that has stabbed him repeatedly the whole time.

It was the only thing that has given him peace.

Intoxicating.

Addictive.

A unsettling forbade churned deep within.

Something.

There is definitely something.

Something wrong.

Good memories.

Indeed.

Yet the nature of human, is to live in the present.

To reminisce a past, no matter how beautiful, is a undoubtedly foolish act.

The past stays in the past, the extinct past, the past that would never, never have a trace of reappearing again.

Impossible.

They have long gone extinct.

The past is…

Never going to come back.

By endlessly and aimlessly dwelling on it is futility, by only gazing upon the past, the present and future will eat you alive, as you inevitably settle onto your death.

He tightly bit on his lip, preventing even a trace of sound to escape.

A box of memories is like a demon’s temptation, offering everything you seeked for, the solace you wanted, the sweet taste in your mouth, and the love you longed.

However like most dealings with demons, it is better left unopened, no matter how tempting it may seem.

He could see a haze, a distant bay, and a soft gaze.

What…

Is that?

Yet he could no longer think, drowsiness has overwhelmed him.

Sleep has claimed another victim, a victim for her sweet kiss.

———

The birth of self.

The death of one.

Self is always more important.

Humanity precedes this code

———

A groggy feeling hit him, as his eyes slowly parted.

Everything seemed normal, with not an inch of change.

The room was still the same, with the candles still lit, and he was still tucked in the bed.

The world was as before, the sight had not even a bit of change.

Everything was as before.

The promised Spirit World had failed to appear in his sight.

It all looked the exact same.

Is this the ‘sinkhole of ornaments’ scenario?

That was until he realised a weight between his eyes, his eyelids rubbing against the texture of cloth covering his eyes.

Moving his hands to his face yes he touched the fabric.

It was there, covering his eyes.

Despite so, he could still see everything beyond clearly.

He bewilderedly touched around the piece of fabric that covered his eyes.

Indeed, there was something covering it.

He wasn't dreaming.

He was seeing through the cloth, flawlessly so.

His first instinct was to remove the fabric, but a feeling prevented him from doing so.

The

re must be a reason it is there.

Breathing a sigh of relief, he rested his plans on the bed.

His hands brushed across something.

Hmm?

The object was…

An unbelievably beautiful lady, with dark violet hair, and a beautiful flower motif on her cheek…

He rubbed his eyes.

Come again?