Chapter Ten: The Ruins

“This one, this one, this one, and this one—let’s have them all. And three glasses of freshly squeezed juice. Oh, and one of your signature set meals as well. That will do!” Zhou Yiyi ordered, holding the menu and speaking to the server.

Yang Fan let out a silent sigh of relief. Thankfully, he hadn’t been asked to order; he had no idea what was on offer here.

It wasn’t long before dish after dish was carried to their table.

As the three of them were eating, someone suddenly walked straight toward them.

“Zhou Ting, you’re here too! When did you get back?”

Hearing someone call her name, Zhou Ting looked up to see a rather effeminate young man striding toward them, speaking as he approached.

She frowned instinctively on seeing the man.

“Chen Haoran? What are you doing here? Shoo, shoo! Don’t come over here and ruin my appetite.”

Before Zhou Ting could respond, Zhou Yiyi spoke up first—and her tone was anything but friendly.

Yang Fan watched silently, completely at a loss as to what was going on. He decided to keep observing before getting involved.

“Yiyi, is that any way to speak to your brother-in-law? Apologize to him at once!” Chen Haoran, hearing Zhou Yiyi’s sharp retort, fired back just as unyieldingly, his words laced with sarcasm.

Brother-in-law? Was this guy claiming to be Zhou Yiyi’s brother-in-law? Wouldn’t that make him… Zhou Ting’s fiancé? Yang Fan felt a headache coming on, but something about the scene didn’t add up. If things were really as he imagined, Zhou Ting and Zhou Yiyi’s attitudes would hardly be so hostile. Even Yang Fan himself hadn’t experienced such obvious disdain from Zhou Yiyi.

“Pah, you pervert! Who are you calling brother-in-law? You? You’d better take a good look at yourself in the mirror. You want to be my sister’s fiancé? Not even in your next life!” Zhou Yiyi exploded with anger. This bastard actually dared to claim, right in front of her sister, that he was her brother-in-law? Was he tired of living?

The Zhou and Chen families had been close for generations, and the engagement had been arranged before Zhou Ting was even born. However, Chen Haoran—the eldest son of the current Chen family—was notorious for his vices: drinking, gambling, womanizing, and all manner of unsavory behaviors. Recently, he’d even been exposed by a small media outlet. Though the news was quickly suppressed, word had spread among the prominent families in the city. The Zhou family was now considering annulling the engagement. Zhou Ting’s cultivation talents were becoming more remarkable by the day, and the family couldn’t bear the thought of her wasting her life with someone like Chen Haoran.

As for Zhou Ting, she had nothing but contempt for him. Ever since she began her cultivation, whenever Chen Haoran dared show his face before her, he would invariably end up beaten for something he said. Without exception. Eventually, he learned his lesson: unable to best her, he simply kept his distance—at least until the day he could hold his own.

That said, for all his faults, Chen Haoran did possess considerable talent—second-rank cultivation aptitude, a rare gift. If not for his dissolute lifestyle, the Zhou family would have had no objections to the engagement.

In large families, decisions were rarely left to the whims of their children—interests always took precedence. But Zhou Ting’s potential now forced the Zhou family to reconsider.

“Hmph, you think you can decide? That’s not up to you. Our families have a formal engagement, made by our grandfathers themselves. You think such things are so easily dismissed by a little girl’s whims?” Chen Haoran shot Zhou Yiyi a mocking look, clearly relishing the way his words provoked her.

“Ha! Looks like you’re itching for another beating. Want me to loosen your bones for you?” Zhou Ting sneered coldly.

“Let it go, let it go. We can’t fight in public—there are rules. Besides, I heard you’ve reached the fourth rank of Martial Master. I’m no match for you. If I were still a third-rank Warrior, maybe I’d dare spar with you.” Chen Haoran retreated two steps, waving his hands in alarm.

“Then what are you still doing here? Get lost!” Zhou Yiyi barked, seeing him back down.

Chen Haoran looked awkward, caught between advancing and retreating. He steadied himself and said, “Fine, I admit I can’t beat you. But my cousin, Li Xianyi, will be out of the relic soon. Do you dare face him?”

“Li Xianyi is coming out?” Zhou Ting’s brow arched at the name. “Chen Haoran, if you can get Li Xianyi to stand up for you, I’ll be waiting at the Shanghai Cultivation Academy. I’d like to see if his reputation as ‘Shanghai’s One Sword’ is justified, or just hot air. Now, please make your exit.”

Chen Haoran’s face darkened and he turned to leave. He’d lost face again. It wasn’t the first time Zhou Ting had put him in his place, but doing so in public stung all the more. He’d thought she might show some restraint, but apparently, he’d been too optimistic.

As he walked away, Chen Haoran fumed inwardly, “Just you wait! When my cousin returns, let’s see how arrogant you can be. So you’ve made it to fourth rank? My cousin has always claimed to fear no one at his level, much less a newcomer like you.”

“At last, he’s gone! Sis, you should have beaten him up again just now—he’s insufferable!” Zhou Yiyi said fiercely as she watched him go.

“You can’t just hit people whenever you feel like it. The Chen family is a well-known house in Shanghai, and our elders have longstanding ties with them. Unless he really crosses the line, I can’t just thrash him in a public place,” Zhou Ting replied, but her mood seemed to lighten, the corners of her mouth lifting as she spoke to Zhou Yiyi.

“Who was that guy? And who’s this Li Xianyi he mentioned? He sounded pretty formidable,” Yang Fan finally spoke up, hoping to salvage a bit of presence for himself. After all, how could the future protagonist be so thoroughly ignored at his own table?

“Hmph. That guy was Chen Haoran, direct heir of the Chen family—one of Shanghai’s old clans. Other than his pedigree, he’s utterly worthless and rotten to the core. Our families arranged an engagement ages ago, but it’s basically null and void at this point; nobody wants to lose face by announcing it. As for Li Xianyi, he’s a maternal cousin in the Chen family—Chen Haoran’s elder cousin—also a student at the Shanghai Cultivation Academy, one year ahead of my sister. He’s already at the peak of fourth rank and has been through the relics, earning the nickname ‘Shanghai’s One Sword.’ He’s rather famous among cultivators, but he’s unbelievably arrogant—once boasted of being undefeated among his peers, only to get knocked flat the very next day!” As Zhou Yiyi complained to Yang Fan, the frustration Chen Haoran had caused her seemed to have dissipated.

“Oh, so Li Xianyi is quite impressive. But what exactly are these ‘relics’ Chen Haoran mentioned?” Yang Fan quickly followed up, eager to seize the opportunity while Zhou Yiyi was willing to talk.

He knew next to nothing about the cultivation world. Zhou Ting was too aloof for him to question, but if Zhou Yiyi was willing, he wasn’t about to let it pass.

“Heavens, you don’t even know about the relics? Fine, since you’re so clueless, I’ll graciously enlighten you,” Zhou Yiyi replied, her mood clearly improving. This guy had squeezed her hand red as soon as he got off the plane—she hadn’t forgotten. But now he actually needed her help, so she was determined to make the most of it.

“Alright, go ahead and explain,” Yang Fan said eagerly, glad to finally have someone answer his questions.

Zhou Ting, listening to their conversation, could only shake her head. They were both eighteen—adults, technically—but their banter was almost childishly naïve. Never mind, she thought, might as well eat while they chattered; she was hungry after a long journey.

“With the recovery of spiritual energy in the world, the ancient body-strengthening techniques passed down by our ancestors have begun to work once more. At the same time, as the world revived, relics started appearing everywhere—they’re not like the ancient ruins you imagine. Think of them as spatial passages, but not quite the same. Relics connect two worlds: our Earth, and what we call the Dark Realm. That world has no sun—just three blue moons hanging in the sky. Once the two realms became linked, war broke out. Our world’s spiritual energy had only just revived, so we were weak at first. But in the end, we managed to hold them off with our technology and weapons. Imagine our Earth and their Dark Realm as two bulbs on a gourd, with the relics as the connecting stem. Both sides built cities within the relics and began to fight ceaselessly. The people of the Dark Realm long to invade our world—our sunlight and oceans are irresistible to them. Of course, we can’t let them through. Over time, the casualties mounted, and the conflict became a war of extermination. That’s why cultivators are now so privileged—they’re needed to hold back the Dark Realm.”

Zhou Yiyi’s eyes sparkled with enthusiasm as she spoke.

“If technology and weapons work, why bother developing so many cultivators? Why not just improve our arsenal?” Yang Fan asked, still puzzled.

“Actually, the relics are split into two sections. Picture a straight line for the passage, divided in half. On our side, technology works. But on their side, it doesn’t—experts say it’s due to different laws of nature. So our weapons can only be used defensively within the relics, not offensively. And regular weapons—like firearms—are useless against cultivators of the fourth rank and above. Even things like rocket launchers hardly faze fifth-rank cultivators. The only reason we held the line at first was the deterrent of nuclear weapons. Otherwise, they’d have already invaded us.”

A vivid image formed in Yang Fan’s mind: two worlds joined like a gourd, the relic as the stem in between, both sides locked in a battle for survival—kill or be killed.