Colt's skin was so pale that even a slight blush was very obvious. But he didn't look in the mirror, so he didn't realize how brightly he was blushing, or that his moist eyes looked as if they were covered in a layer of mist; even as he tried to purse his lips, keep a straight face, glare, he still looked adorable.
“What do you mean?” Colt asked Timothy to rephrase himself.
I mean.." Timothy's voice caught, it took him a moment to clear his throat. "I'm saying, you can't let your beauty go to waste just because no one is watching; I'm a person too.
Colt's ears were red enough to drip blood, but he still countered solemnly, "You can't use 'pretty' and 'beautiful' to describe a boy."
I think they're neutral terms, regardless of gender." Timothy's ears were also a bit red, but his expression returned to normal. "If you lack self-awareness regarding your appearance, you can look into my eyes. As long as your aesthetic sense is normal, you'll know what I'm saying is the truth.
Colt turned his head away.
He truly loved looking into Timothy's eyes, because he could see his own reflection in them, making him feel his own true existence. But hearing Timothy say that, the sense of shame was so intense that it made his toes curl.
"I should get to class; Tony will scold me if I'm late." Colt made an excuse to strategically shift the focus.
Timothy watched the figure disappear behind the wall, patted Birdie, who had stolen his cufflink, murmured, "He needs a watch to remind him what day it is. Stark's online class is on Friday; he only had one yesterday."
Birdie chirped. Seeing that Timothy didn't stop its theft, it picked up an even flashier diamond cufflink.
"Hey, these are expensive; I'll demand compensation from your owner." Timothy took out a velvet pouch and packed the cufflinks Birdie had picked out, making it easy for the bird to carry them.
"A morning kiss instead? No, he's too good at hide-and-seek; I shouldn't startle him. I have to take it step by step," Timothy muttered to himself.
Birdie snatched away the gemstone and sent Timothy back a red leaf.
Colt rushed into the third basement level, put on his Virtual Helmet, plunged his consciousness into the Virtual Laboratory, letting his overheated brain be soaked in knowledge.
An hour later, Colt took off his Virtual Helmet. He had memorized the complete star map of the Milky Way, his brain so stuffed full that there was no longer any room for idle thoughts.
Virtual Earth rotated quietly, appearing in Colt's mind.
The next second, the Milky Way star map automatically compressed into a data packet, becoming a star adorning his spiritual space, while the Virtual Earth transformed into icy blue eyes within his empty mind. The eyes were calm and inclusive, carrying gentleness and a smile, as he spoke, "Do you see? In my eyes, you are so beautiful."
Colt's head began to heat up again! He put on the Virtual Helmet once more and rushed into the Virtual Laboratory, using a time flow rate of 1:1000 to cool his brain.
This time, Colt did not use the method of cooling down by cramming knowledge; instead, he chose to train his spiritual power micro-manipulation. By changing molecular structures, then refining it down to changing atomic structures, he achieved matter transformation..
Another hour passed, Colt took off his Virtual Helmet.
Changing the molecular structure of matter would allow one to mold Vibranium like playdough. But changing the atomic structure of matter could turn stone into gold. Within the Virtual Laboratory, Colt had already successfully achieved the latter.
Colt believed he was terrifyingly strong now. When he looked at the Virtual Earth again, what flashed through his mind were not visual images, but rather how many total elements existed on Earth, the value of each element, how many protons, neutrons, electrons composed each different element.
As expected, the end of science is indeed divine arts.
Without even being asked by Timothy, Colt took the initiative to help dig the basement, the underground garage, the underground hangar for the fighter jets. The excavated soil changed its properties, directly turning into rock to reinforce the walls.
Spiritual Power is like a muscle; the more it is used, the more flexible and powerful it becomes.
Working for one night is worth ten years of effort.
Timothy called for a stop. Colt still felt unsatisfied; it was only 12 o'clock, it was still very early. Since there was no school tomorrow, he could stay up all night tonight.
Overexerting yourself while in a state of high excitement is a bad habit. You can only reap new surprises if you let your brain rest.
Timothy spoke as if he could be a paragon of healthy sleep habits, but in reality, after the two of them said goodnight and returned to their rooms, the progress bar for the Dream Station didn't light up until three in the morning.
Colt heard the familiar rustling sound, put down the Vibranium brake pads in his hands, shrank under the covers, fell asleep amidst the pleasant white noise.
A new day, new surprises.
Colt washed up, prayed, opened the treasure chest.
He opened one to find a wardrobe filled with clothes and accessories. In addition to exquisite three-piece formal suits, there were various ties, bowties, belts, luxurious cufflinks and brooches, as well as sets of luxury watches..
Timothy was also opening packages downstairs. He tossed the basketball he had just unpacked, bounced it against the stairs, shouted, "Colt, I made burgers and egg tarts, come down quickly and eat!"
Colt rolled his eyes: Don't think he didn't know that Timothy hadn't made the burgers at all, they were delivery, the egg tarts were too. 20 for the food, 500 for the delivery fee, the delivery guy was just the construction worker from next door working part-time!
Colt caught the basketball, aimed his angle, threw it toward the basketball hoop next to Timothy. The basketball's trajectory did not follow the path calculated in his brain, but instead veered off by several meters, nearly hitting the restaurant's coffee machine.
Timothy practically launched himself into the air to intercept the basketball, then carefully caressed the coffee machine he had nearly hit. His movements were so gentle, it was as if it weren't a coffee machine, but his dream girl.
Colt saw a look of horror on Timothy's face for the first time.
"I think that before you get used to ball sports, indoor basketball should be banned," Timothy decreed.
I am the landlord!
Colt had already completely tamed the Quantum Terminal's speech-to-text program, deleting the sentence in time and replacing it with another: "That was a mistake just now. If I wanted to, I could throw the ball into a basketball hoop 500 meters away."
"You can't use Spiritual Power to fly a kite; that's cheating." Timothy confirmed the coffee machine was intact, then used his finger to spin the basketball, showing off how strong his athletic ability was.
Colt wasn't envious at all; he was an academic, a man of intellect, a Ghost user, not someone who needed physical prowess. He stopped in front of Timothy and pulled a large six-door wardrobe from the Dream Station, setting it down in front of Timothy with a "clatter." The swinging doors knocked the basketball Timothy had been spinning into the air onto the floor.
I'm so sorry, Tim. If I had known you cared so much about your image, I should have given you the master bedroom; the second bedroom can't fit such a large wardrobe," Colt said with a hypocritical smile. "I've already ordered a new full-length mirror to place in the walk-in closet; it turns out that cracked old mirror was affecting your ability to admire your own beauty.
Timothy was not provoked by Colt in the slightest. He kicked the basketball aside, opened all the wardrobe doors, let out a rogue's whistle. "So many outfits, yet they only count as a single treasure. Thank you, Dream Treasure Chest; perhaps we could call it a wishing machine."
Colt agreed with this: "I wish for a Golden Mountain."
Timothy turned to look at him, raising an eyebrow. "You only told me last night that you can already turn iron into Vibranium by altering the nuclei one by one. By that logic, turning stone into gold shouldn't be difficult for you either."
"You think I'm God? Matter transmutation requires changing every single nucleus one by one. Do you know how many nuclei are in a single gram of gold?" Colt glared at Timothy and stomped toward the dining table in a huff.
About 3.056×10^21." Timothy grabbed Colt and pushed him toward the wardrobe. "Check it again.
“Look at what?” Colt looked around and noticed something was wrong. “Where is Red Robin? At this time, he should have finished his second round of exercise and come back to watch TV.”
It's the weekend, so elementary schoolers don't have classes. I let the Demon Brat take the Bird to go play with friends. A farm in Kansas is more suitable for a little bird to fly around, he has a flying dog to protect him." After Timothy finished answering, he cupped Colt's head with both hands, gently adjusting it so his eyes were focused on the wardrobe. "Look at the things inside and the clothing sizes. Who do you think they belong to?
If you're going to talk, just talk. Why are you getting handsy?
Colt felt as if his head were being squeezed between two hot water bottles, making it difficult to think. His intuition calculated the answer, but his reason refused to believe it.
“What do you mean?”
Timothy let go of Colt, picked up a pearl headband from the accessories, put it on Colt, whispered in his ear, "Prepared this for you."
His voice sounded like a sigh, yet it created thunder in Colt's mind. His hearing aid must definitely be broken, which was why the sound he received kept fluctuating in volume.
Colt thought.
Dream Treasure Chests can only yield treasures cherished within dreams. A photo from the past could be considered a memento of childhood friends, but what's with a whole cabinet full of clothes and accessories? What exactly are you dreaming about? Do you take me for some life-sized dress-up doll?
If it were a Golden Mountain, Colt would never be this panicked.
This wardrobe was emitting some kind of signal.
Colt took a half-step back, accidentally bumping into Timothy's chest, hurriedly moved to the side. His eyes moved stiffly, his gaze slowly focusing on Timothy's face.
"For me?" Colt's eyes asked again.
Timothy nodded.
Colt forced his lagging super-brain to restart, searching for a reason for Timothy: "Did you find a BUG in the Dream Treasure Chest, like using hypnosis, which is why you turned someone else's wardrobe into your favorite?"
Timothy stared into Colt's eyes. Colt didn't dare to breathe, struggling to maintain a calm expression on his face.
One second, two seconds, three seconds..
Colt felt like he was going to suffocate.
Yes," Timothy finally spoke, "one of the reasons we formed the Study Group was to use the Dream Treasure Chest more effectively; it can't be just you making progress.
Colt took a breath and smiled, "I knew it. Nothing can stump you, Duck Detective."
Timothy's eyes flickered with a smile as well. "Mr. President, go eat breakfast quickly, then come back to try on the clothes. I'll teach you how to coordinate your accessories."
Don't use that shameful title!
..
Colt's Spiritual Power is progressing at a lightning pace.
His quantum Ghost state initially had only 50 billion simulated neurons, after nearly ten years, it had only grown to 100 billion. After forming a Study Group with Timothy, it expanded to 200 billion in less than a month. This growth in Spiritual Power not only increased the speed at which he could hand-forge Vibranium, but also made his control over the Ghost field more flexible.
Colt learned how to move hundreds or even thousands of objects simultaneously, much like flying a kite, without pulling them into his Ghost field. This included Birdie, as well as the clothes on his own body.
Timothy was the exception.
As more Dream Treasure Chests were opened, the spiritual connection between the two deepened, Timothy's affinity for Spiritual Power grew higher. Previously, physical contact was required, but now, even through layers of clothing, his Spiritual Power would become active. Although Colt tried his best to maintain distance from Timothy in public, whenever they sat at the same table, there were inevitably accidental touches. Sometimes, a mere brush of shoulders would cause his Spiritual Power to rush toward Timothy impatiently, pulling him into the Ghost field.
The rumor that Timothy was being haunted by a Ghost had already become the 11th greatest supernatural phenomenon at Gotham High. Timothy didn't care; he even used Ghost to reject his classmates' party invitations.
Thanks, but if I attend a party with girls, Ghost will be furious.
We didn't invite any girls, only the male students from the Photography Club. They have those kinds of drinks. Are you really not coming?
Sorry, even same-sex isn't okay, Ghost is a guy.
Timothy waved his hand, saying goodbye to his classmate.
Colt didn't ride his skateboard; instead, he hitched a ride on Timothy's bike to go home.
"Oh, poor Tim, do you really not need a priest?" Colt announced in an operatic melody.
"No need, a Ghost friend sounds pretty cool." Timothy tugged on Colt's small braid.
"Hey, the window isn't closed yet, you can't touch me," Colt said, dodging backward.
Of course I can; it's a privilege granted to me by the Spiritual Connection." Timothy smiled at him. "Come on, I believe you can control your Spiritual Power.
Colt was the only one who lacked confidence in this; perhaps he should shut down the Dream Station and stop opening treasure chests altogether. Colt worried that as the Spiritual Connection continued to deepen, even if they were a meter apart, Timothy would be pulled into the Ghost field.
Chapter 35
Colt suspected that Timothy was practicing non-violent non-cooperation.
He sent Timothy pictures of mountains of gold, seas of money, treasure chests every day, as well as sci-fi videos of Super Particle Colliders, interstellar warp starships, stable wormholes. There wasn't even a trace of a spaceship screw in the treasure chest, let alone mountains of gold or seas of money.
Timothy said that dreams are hard to control. The next day, the Dream Treasure Chest produced another coffee machine. Timothy happily carried Coffee Machine No. 2 to the next room to install it in the kitchen.
Timothy said that money was just a number to him, even if he tried to self-hypnotize, the Dream didn't admit that gold was his favorite. The next day, the Dream Treasure Chest produced a chest full of financial budget sheets, Timothy happily took the reports to work.
Lucius praised Timothy's diligence and took the opportunity to call Bruce, claiming that if Bruce skipped another meeting, the board of directors would suspect Wayne Enterprises was about to change its name. Bruce's response was to send over a signed equity transfer agreement, stating that as long as Timothy agreed, the company could change its name to Drake at any time.
Timothy threw the agreement into the shredder.
Nothing more; playing the game of corporate warfare was simply Timothy's hobby; he didn't want to become a pure businessman. Drake was already enough to ensure he lived a life of luxury, so there was no need to carry the burden of Wayne Enterprise as well.
Colt had lost all expectation for opening treasure chests. Before, he would open them the moment he opened his eyes, but now he wished he could save up ten or eight before opening them.
He couldn't save them up at all.