Pressure Control

“Energy control means sensing every part of your body and trying to influence it—to control it. To learn energy control, you must first sense it. The process of resisting electric shocks earlier was, in fact, a process of sensing and controlling energy.”

As they walked, Zhang Heng explained to Su Xuan what “energy control” really was. In truth, after the morning’s training, Su Xuan had already more or less understood what he would have to go through to master it.

“Extremely intense pressure will naturally trigger your body’s resistance. When that pressure reaches a certain point, your cells will begin to decompose energy particles on their own. In the process of resisting this pressure, you have to sense the feeling of those decomposing particles—learn how to control your ability, how to command the particles themselves. You already got a taste of this in the morning, so I expect you can follow what I’m saying.”

“Mm, I understand.”

“This afternoon’s session, though, is nothing like this morning’s.”

The two continued upward until they reached the top floor.

They turned into an inner hallway where a massive metal door loomed before them—the kind Su Xuan had only ever seen in movies, like a bank vault door.

Zhang Heng took a black magnetic card from his pocket and swiped it over a sensor.

When the green light came on, he turned the heavy wheel on the door.

“Click… rrr–rrr…”

The door opened into utter darkness. Zhang Heng stepped inside, and moments later, the lights flicked on to reveal a room full of futuristic technology.

In the center stood a massive machine, something like a giant washing machine with a transparent glass cover.

Inside was a two-meter by two-meter square space, surrounded by intricate metal components.

Below the machine was what appeared to be a control panel—complete with levers, buttons, and several slots.

The sight reminded Su Xuan of machines he’d seen in old sci-fi movies.

“What… is this?”

Su Xuan stared, stunned and a little uneasy.

“A Pressure Regulator! It’s a machine that uses energy particles to generate extreme pressure—a powerful device to help you quickly master the art of energy control.”

Zhang Heng grinned, teeth flashing like a hungry wolf eyeing a helpless little rabbit.

“For the next few days, you’ll be spending all your time with this… until you’ve mastered energy control. Then—and only then—will you part ways.”

The Pressure Regulator was one of the few pieces of modern technology powered directly by energy particles.

It had been jointly developed by Huaya scientists seventy years ago and was hailed as the “modern weapons factory.”

Its invention reduced the training cycle from a year and a half to just six months—cutting a whole year off the process, saving vast resources, and accelerating trainee development.

On the market, a single unit was valued at about eight million yuan—and it wasn’t even for sale to the public.

One could only obtain it through special channels: the military, gifts, or the black market.

The unit at Jun Cheng was a gifted model: silver metal casing, heavy industrial texture, exuding mechanical beauty and undeniable value.

But this was no luxury appliance.

It was more like a giant hand forcing your head underwater again and again until you learned the “Water Breathing Method.”

Before you mastered it, you’d be shoved under countless times, feeling water rush into your nose, the agony of suffocation.

Su Xuan wasn’t afraid, though.

What he feared was his dream becoming reality—if he couldn’t advance to the initial form quickly enough, and couldn’t join the summer camp a month later, then the dream would no longer be just a dream.

Pain? That was nothing. Was there anything more painful than a man losing his “second brother”?

Was there anything worse than going from spellcaster to… the one being cast upon?

Compared to the double torment of body and soul from that transformation, this was nothing.

“Not bad—you’re calm enough to keep a straight face,” Zhang Heng remarked.

From the control console’s drawer, he pulled out a special suit with colorful signal cables attached—clearly meant for Su Xuan to wear.

Once Su Xuan had put on the tight-fitting suit, Zhang Heng motioned for him to step into the square chamber.

Without a word, Su Xuan jumped into the confined space.

“Plug in the cables,” Zhang Heng said casually, lounging in his chair with one leg over the other.

The suit’s cables ended in plugs, and the machine had matching color-coded sockets.

After about a minute of fiddling, Su Xuan got them all connected.

“Done.”

“Good. Just stand there—I’m going to close the glass cover.”

“Uh… does this thing have ventilation?”

Su Xuan felt uneasy.

The space wasn’t very large—jumping might make him hit his head.

It was already claustrophobic enough, and closing the glass would only make it worse.

He wasn’t exactly claustrophobic, but he still didn’t like it.

“Relax, it won’t suffocate you.”

With that, Zhang Heng pressed a button.

The glass cover closed slowly.

From his pocket, Zhang Heng took out two energy stones and placed them into the console slots before flipping the main power switch.

“Clunk—”

The machine came alive—lights flickering on, faint vibrations rumbling through the floor.

Zhang Heng pointed to his own eyes, then opened his mouth as if giving a silent instruction.

“Close your eyes!”

Whether he heard or simply understood, Su Xuan shut his eyes.

The rumbling grew louder, vibrations stronger.

Darkness behind closed lids, the cramped space, and the subtle yet unshakable pressure in the air pulled Su Xuan into a strange realm—lonely, hypersensitive.

It felt like being abandoned on some remote planet, never to return to the blue waters of home.

The solitude didn’t last long.

A massive pressure slammed into him—like climbing stairs with a 100-kilo man on his back.

It bent him forward slightly.

His legs spread into a bracing stance as the pressure mounted—not just on his back, but enveloping his entire body, like sinking deep underwater.

“Hooo— This isn’t the time to panic. Calm down! Control your breathing!”

Su Xuan felt his body trembling, lungs compressed under the weight.

He fought to steady himself.

He focused on his breath.

Each inhale felt like a full-body effort.

Without the help of energy particles, he doubted he could last two minutes under this ever-mounting pressure.

“Hmm… Stabilized this quickly? Not bad at all,” Zhang Heng murmured, watching the figure inside the glass while monitoring the console’s readouts.

His earlier laziness was gone—his expression was now solemn.

Operating this machine allowed for zero distraction.

He had to watch Su Xuan’s state constantly.

If danger arose, he needed to react instantly.

Even a half-second delay could mean serious injury—maybe even the end of Su Xuan’s days on the battlefield.

If Zhang Heng were negligent, it would, in some sense, be murder.