The next afternoon, the rehearsal room.
A weird silence permeated the air; only the electric current sound of the guitar amplifier was still faintly sizzling.
The joint practice that just ended was originally supposed to be a warm-up for everyone to find their hand feel, but the result turned into a public execution scene for Lin Feng alone—of course, what was being executed was everyone else's Three Views.
If the Lin Feng of the previous few days was a precise metronome, then today, he was simply a precision machine tool loaded with a turbocharger. Those syncopated notes that were originally somewhat jerky, and the chord progressions where transitions were slightly stiff, became silky smooth at this moment. His fingers danced on the fretboard, the movements so fast they even brought out afterimages; every note was full, clear, and full of granularity.
The song ended. Lin Feng, as if nothing had happened, pressed down on the strings, stopping the lingering sound.
He raised his head and met three pairs of sluggish eyes.
Even the bassist Lu Mingxuan, who was usually like a sculpture with facial paralysis, had his pair of dead fish eyes widen slightly at this moment. Especially his left eyebrow; it actually, for the first time ever, lifted up a whole millimeter—in his facial expression management system, this already belonged to a huge fluctuation at the level of "Shocking the Whole Family."
"You..."
Shen Linyin even forgot to put down the drumsticks in her hand. She jumped down from the drum stool, walked a few steps to Lin Feng, and sized him up and down, her expression actually revealing a few points of serious worry.
"Lin Feng, confess honestly."
"Confess what?" Lin Feng had a face full of innocence.
"Did you take drugs?" Shen Linyin lowered her voice, as if afraid of being heard by the police. "I know some people in the arts will touch contraband to pursue a 'state,' or those stimulants that make one's spirit highly focused... Don't do something stupid! Although you used to be very vegetable, we didn't disdain you!"
Lin Feng's mouth twitched: "...I thank you for your concern, but I didn't take drugs."
"Then how is that possible?" Shen Linyin pointed at his guitar. "Yesterday you were still a robot that could only play basics, today this... this turned into a Gundam? This isn't scientific!"
Ren Yichen at the side also scratched his head. Although he was happy his brother became strong, this speed of becoming strong was indeed a bit scary. "Yeah Ah Feng, your improvement speed simply looks like you were possessed by the God of Guitar last night."
Lin Feng felt secretly cool in his heart, but on the surface, he maintained a look of profound, unpredictable indifference.
"Epiphany, understand?" Lin Feng spouted nonsense with a straight face. "Last night I observed the celestial phenomena, and while watching, I suddenly opened my Ren and Du Meridians. The fingerings I couldn't figure out before suddenly made sense."
Actually, this was precisely Lin Feng's little calculation.
After finishing the last [Guitar Dao (Mortal Stage)] task last night, that pile of bronze techniques, he rushed to digest them all last night. He deliberately saved them until it was piled up to 'Claim' in one breath.
It was for exactly this kind of effect.
This kind of public "on-the-spot breakthrough," watching the teammates' faces looking like they hadn't seen the world, could not only greatly satisfy his vanity but also consolidate his increasingly rising status in the band.
"Alright, don't make a fuss about nothing." Lin Feng waved his hand. "Practice for another half hour, then call it a day."
In the following half hour, the band's coordination became unusually smooth because of Lin Feng's strong "carry." The short board that originally always needed everyone's care had now actually faintly considered the big thigh leading the rhythm along with Shen Linyin.
After rehearsal ended, everyone started packing up instruments.
"Ah Feng, go eat together?" Ren Yichen asked, shouldering his gig bag.
"No, you guys go first." Lin Feng remained sitting on the folding chair, with no intention of moving. "I feel my state just now was good, want to strike while the iron is hot and practice a while longer."
"Huo, tryhard." Shen Linyin clicked her tongue in wonder. "Alright then, don't practice too late, watch your health."
Lu Mingxuan silently nodded, counting as a farewell; he still treated words like gold.
Only when the footsteps of the three people completely disappeared at the end of the corridor did Lin Feng slowly stand up. He walked to the door, pressed his ear against it to listen for a while, and after confirming there was really no one outside, he cautiously locked the rehearsal room door from the inside.
"Hu..."
Lin Feng let out a long breath, turned around, and looked at the empty rehearsal room.
He wasn't going to practice guitar.
He was about to begin that damned [Vocal Path] cultivation.
Lin Feng opened the system panel, looking at the task ranked first: [Breath Control Practice (0/96h)].
"System, how exactly do I practice this breath control?" Lin Feng asked in his heart. "Is it like in Wuxia novels, sitting in meditation and regulating breath?"
[Replying to Host, that is Immortal Cultivation; we are doing music.] [Breath is the power source of singing. According to the task guidelines, the elementary training the Host needs to perform is—"Breath Holding and Long Tone Control."] [In layman's terms, it means taking a deep breath, then like a dying whale, emitting a continuous, stable, and desperate "Hiss" sound.]
Lin Feng: "..."
What kind of ghost metaphor is "like a dying whale"?
[Please prepare, Host. Detected surrounding environment is safe. Open Auxiliary Training Mode?]
"Open it." Lin Feng helplessly put down the guitar, found a comfortable posture to stand well, and sank his Qi to his Dantian.
Luckily he locked the door, otherwise the sound emitted later would probably be mistaken by people for the rehearsal room being haunted, or that a leaking pressure cooker was hidden here.
Actually, Lin Feng felt that he was not entirely unprepared.
In the past few weeks, inside the System's [Daily Task] pool, tasks like "Practice Vocals for 30 Minutes" would occasionally spawn. At those times, he usually hid in the dormitory when no one was around, or roared a couple of tunes while showering. As long as he scraped together enough time, even if he sang like a duck quacking, the System would judge it as complete, then award him a chance at the turntable lottery.
But now, Lin Feng deeply realized the massive chasm between "Daily Tasks" and the "Vocal Path."
The former was like a post-meal stroll; even if you limped through the 30 minutes, it still counted. The latter, however, was a Special Forces field drill: if the movements weren't standard, it wouldn't do; if the intensity wasn't enough, it wouldn't do; and it had to be sustained for a long time.
"Sssss—"
Inside the rehearsal room echoed the sound Lin Feng squeezed out from between the gaps of his teeth.
According to the System's guidance, he was doing the most basic breath training—"Si Sound Practice". Deeply inhaling, sinking Qi to the Dantian, maintaining diaphragm expansion, and then letting the breath pass evenly and thinly through the gaps of the teeth with friction, emitting a "Hiss" sound.
One minute... two minutes... ten minutes...
At first it was fine, but as time passed, the sense of boredom and physiological discomfort began a pincer attack.
This kind of prolonged breath control, for a diaphragm that hadn't undergone professional training, was simply torture. The abdominal muscles began to ache and spasm, while the throat, due to the continuous friction of airflow, rapidly became dry and scorching hot.
When he persisted to the 50th minute, Lin Feng finally broke his technique.
"Cough cough cough! Cough cough!"
A fit of violent coughing made him bend at the waist; his throat felt like he had swallowed a handful of sand, stinging with a burning pain. That "Hiss" sound, which was originally considered stable, had long since turned into the sound of a broken bellows leaking air.
[Today's Effective Practice Duration: 50 Minutes.] [Distance to unlocking [Long Breath (Bronze)]: 95 Hours 10 Minutes.]
Looking at the progress bar on the system panel that had barely moved, Lin Feng sat paralyzed on the ground in despair.
"Wasted after just fifty minutes? If I have to practice the full 96 hours, won't my throat be directly scrapped?"
Whether it was his vocal cords or diaphragm, both had reached their limit. Lin Feng felt that even speaking was strenuous now, his voice as hoarse as an eighty-year-old chain smoker.
He tremblingly extended his hand and took out that can of [Coca-Cola (Bronze)] from the system backpack that he hadn't been willing to drink.
"Pop."
The tab was pulled open, and the crisp sound of bubbles seemed exceptionally pleasing in the quiet rehearsal room.
Lin Feng tilted his head back and fiercely gulped down a large mouthful.
The icy liquid slid down his esophagus; it was a mouthfeel that ordinary Cola could not compare to. Immediately after, a strange refreshing sensation rose from his stomach, rapidly wrapping around his vocal cords, which felt like they had been burned by fire, and his utterly exhausted diaphragm.
That feeling was just like dry, cracked earth meeting sweet rain after a long drought, or like having a bucket of ice water poured over one's head in a scorching desert.
The burning stinging sensation receded rapidly within a few seconds, replaced by a comfortable, moist sensation. Even his aching abdominal muscles seemed to have recovered quite a bit of vitality.
"Is this the effect of a Bronze Rank item? It's simply Immortal Water!" Lin Feng exclaimed, his voice surprisingly having already recovered its clarity.
It was a pity that this can of Cola was single-use; once drunk, it was gone.
Relying on this can of "Immortal Water" to extend his life, Lin Feng stood up again and continued to play the role of that "dying whale" in this enclosed space.
"Sssss————"
Another 30 minutes passed. When the repair effect brought by the Cola was completely exhausted, and that tearing dry pain struck again, Lin Feng had no choice but to completely stop today's cultivation.
Total: 80 minutes.
The distance to the 96-hour goal was still far away with no end in sight.
Lin Feng looked at the empty aluminum can in his hand, his heart filled with mixed joy and sorrow: joy that this item was indeed effective, sorrow that... if there was no Cola in the future, how would he endure these days?