Chapter 116: The Devil’s Gift

“Gratitude and trust?” Wang Shenyu was puzzled. What use could gratitude possibly have?

“Gratitude?” The same question arose in Wu You’s mind, but upon deeper reflection—

Wait a minute, gratitude and worship, followed by the desire to be granted something—doesn’t that sound like the essence of faith?

Damn it, was Salaso trying to start a cult?

What added to the drama was the fact that this world supposedly had no gods. So, does that mean faith and worship were first invented by demons?

Thought of this way, it was somewhat amusing.

Putting aside Wu You’s inner sarcastic commentary, Wang Shenyu, still full of doubt, asked directly, “Is it really just gratitude and trust? What use could they have?”

Salaso opened his eyes and fixed his gaze on Wang Shenyu once more.

“The human spirit and belief are also a form of power—a force that can be returned to me. You can understand it as a kind of faith.”

“Then, do you agree?”

Wang Shenyu had long since ceased internal struggle; the temptation was too great. Forget about something as intangible as gratitude and trust—he wouldn’t give up this chance even for a concrete price.

He stepped forward, closing the distance to Salaso by a pace.

“I agree!”

“Good.”

Salaso approached Wang Shenyu, extending his right hand above the latter’s head.

Instinctively, Wang Shenyu tilted his head sideways, but then forced himself to move back into place.

Yet the large hand never actually touched his head—it hovered just a few inches above.

Still, Wang Shenyu felt a tingling sensation on his scalp, as if a comb were gently and swiftly brushing through his hair.

The sensation lasted only a few seconds before fading.

When he regained his senses, the man was still standing where he had been, as if never having moved.

“Is it over already? Have I changed somehow?”

“That’s for you to feel. Change always begins bit by bit. Study hard and improve every day.”

Wu You and Wang Shenyu were both stunned by Salaso’s last words.

“Who exactly are you?” Wang Shenyu asked the question he most wanted answered.

Salaso picked up a domestically made smartphone from the desk and lit up the screen.

The wallpaper was an anime-style illustration: a beautiful girl wielding a sword, pointing it at a winged creature.

The creature resembled a demon, though the exaggerated style made it look more like a beast.

“Let me ask you a question: Have you ever seen gods or angels?”

Salaso didn’t answer but instead posed a question back to Wang Shenyu.

“Ah!?” What did that mean?

Wang Shenyu didn’t quite understand but replied anyway.

“No, I haven’t. I don’t believe in Catholicism either. Could it be... are you an angel?”

“Ha ha ha ha ha...” Salaso laughed.

“I haven’t seen angels either.”

“But, although you haven’t seen angels, you have definitely seen demons!”

With that, dark shadows began to envelop Salaso’s body.

Sharp, glossy black horns appeared first, then his hands, hooves, and wings—all emerged within seconds.

Before Wang Shenyu stood a demon straight out of legends and cinematic portrayals.

Wang Shenyu felt he should be afraid, but strangely, he was not.

Instead, a thrill of anticipation surged within him.

“Don’t worry, I don’t need your soul.”

With those words, the window opened and closed again; the demon vanished from the room.

He wondered if he was dreaming, yet the answer records on the math app remained intact.

He looked at his hands and murmured to himself, “Did I just gain power from a demon?”

He sat down at the desk, picked up a pen, and tried tackling some exercises.

It was a math test paper.

But the imagined instant transformation into a prodigy did not happen; most problems were still beyond him.

Only, for many questions, with a bit of thought, he could recall some classroom knowledge—just lacking a little something.

This happened more and more often. Wang Shenyu flipped open his math book and saw that what he was missing were just a few key points and formulas.

When he returned to the question, he could write out the solution process much more smoothly.

A lengthy problem was gradually worked through in over a dozen lines of calculation, ending with an answer.

Though unsure if it was correct, it gave Wang Shenyu immense satisfaction. Previously, he could only write half the standard procedure on such difficult problems to scrape partial credit.

As long as one wasn’t completely inattentive in class, during exams or critical moments, students could usually recall some knowledge, lacking only understanding and crucial formula points.

Now, his state was unusually good—was this the power he had received?

Just that his brain was working better?

He opened a drawer and took out an electronic grip strengthener. Using his left hand, he easily squeezed it seven or eight times.

He flipped through books and solved problems while repeatedly opening and closing the grip trainer with his left hand.

By the time his left hand grew sore, he had completed over one and a half pages of math holiday exercises.

The electronic counter showed a total of 437 squeezes.

This was an outrageously high number; normally, he could manage only about thirty with his right hand.

His joy bubbled up uncontrollably, and he laughed aloud.

Then he put down the grip strengthener and continued working on the exercise papers.

Mathematics, chemistry, physics—except for English and Chinese, which required extensive memorization, the science subjects were tackled question by question with the aid of the textbooks.

It gave Wang Shenyu a faux prodigy experience.

Meanwhile, his father quietly used a spare key to open his room door, intending to “educate” his son once again, only to find him studying and solving problems seriously for two or three hours straight.

Even at bedtime, the boy was still working on exercises.

This was unimaginable before. Wang Maocai almost wanted to cry, quietly closing the door halfway open and telling his wife that their son had grown up.

Indeed, great troubles bring great enlightenment.

Outside the window, Salaso spread his wings and departed after hours of observation.

He needed to seek the next high-quality target.

Though the presence was still obvious, a subtle thread of will had already begun to intertwine, and as the user’s obsession and deep application of the power grew, their own strength and faith would become increasingly intertwined.

...

Sunday evening arrived, and boarding students gradually returned from home to attend evening study sessions.

Previously, this time was the golden hour for students to copy each other’s homework.

No matter the academic standing, copying was universal; the difference lay in the “good” students being selective with whom they copied, while the “poor” students copied anything available.

It was the only time since the second half of sophomore year that Wang Shenyu sat serenely, like a fisherman waiting patiently.

Sitting at his desk, he flipped through an English vocabulary list, showing no intention to copy anyone’s work.

“Shenyu, don’t give up on yourself! Here, seven full test papers—copy them!” His deskmate, Xiao You, suddenly handed over his homework, evidently hurriedly copied.

Copying seven papers in half a class was quite a feat.

This gesture left Wang Shenyu both amused and exasperated. “Giving up on myself” seemed oddly misplaced here.

“No thanks. I’ve already finished everything.”

“Ah!?”