Chapter 8: The Wind Blows and Training Begins

Feng Xue hurried through his lunch, not because he was rushed by anyone, but noticing the other privileged single-cell inmates also eating quickly, he subconsciously picked up his pace. Soon, he learned why—the time for "airing out," a period when prisoners are allowed to move freely in an open area, presumably to prevent the psychological issues associated with prolonged confinement indoors.

The outdoor area of the prison was much larger than Feng Xue had anticipated, akin to a large sports complex with lush grass, corners filled with various fitness equipment, and sports facilities like basketball and football fields. Most inmates, however, sat in corners or wandered aimlessly, a testament to the subdued spirit of confinement.

Observing from his position, Feng Xue noticed guard towers strategically placed around the area, each manned with officers equipped with rifles, their fingers ever-ready on the triggers, prepared to act at the first sign of trouble.

Despite the underlying tension, Feng Xue felt oddly detached, the surrealism of his situation compounded by the privileges he had experienced since his arrival. Looking past the manufacturing buildings and cell blocks, he saw dense forests stretching beyond the high perimeter walls, suggesting the prison was surrounded by extensive wilderness.

While absorbing the scenery, Feng Xue was approached by a fellow inmate, whose slick voice and cautious distance hinted at a respectful familiarity. The man, adorned with flashy tattoos and a robust build, stopped a few meters away, signaling non-aggression.

"Mr. Feng, can I assist you with anything?" he asked, his tone carefully neutral yet slightly ingratiating.

Feng Xue was wary, not due to any overt threat but because of the unusual deference he'd encountered from everyone within the prison. Perhaps they were all too aware of his unfamiliarity with prison life, assuming his first "airing out" was underway.

"Thanks, but I'm fine for now," Feng Xue responded, keeping his voice even and face unreadable. He didn't want to reveal his ignorance about the prison's customs or his predecessor's dealings.

Seemingly accepting the refusal, the tattooed man offered his services a bit more forcefully, "If you need anything—cigarettes, alcohol, some small 'crafts,' magazines, newspapers, or bestsellers—just let me know. Of course, there's not much else available here in 'The Hive'; it's pretty isolated."

Feng Xue was momentarily taken aback by the nickname 'The Hive,' suggesting a complex and self-contained prison environment, and he carefully filed away the information. Choosing not to inquire about prices or payment methods, he merely shook his head and watched the man depart.

Once alone, Feng Xue leaned against a post and closed his eyes, focusing inwardly. He decided to practice the beginner's method of 'architecting' as outlined in his dream training—starting with the simplest of constructs: a drop of water.

He pictured the water droplet in his mind's eye, shaping it with thought alone—pointed at the top, round at the bottom, and shimmering with reflected light. He hoped to connect with the ambient G·I particles described in his acquired knowledge, but the drop remained confined to his imagination, its descent through mental space undetected by any real-world sensory feedback.

"Patience," Feng Xue reminded himself. "I'm still learning, and mastery won't come overnight."

As he meditated on the water droplet, refining its image and trying to feel the elusive G·I field, he realized this practice was as much about understanding his new abilities as it was about adapting to his new environment. Whether his predecessor had been a notorious figure or not, Feng Xue knew mastering these skills would be crucial to navigating and possibly transforming his strange new world.