Chapter Fifteen: Joining the Festivities

Stepping outside, Yang Fan immediately spotted Zhou Yiyi and Zhou Ting approaching from the distance. Night had fully descended; since the freshmen had yet to enter the school, the illumination in the new student dormitory area was not completely activated. A few streetlights cast their faint glow across the path.

Yang Fan walked toward the two sisters.
“It’s so late—what made you think of going out for dinner?” he asked.
“We weren’t full this afternoon. We thought we’d grab a midnight snack,” Zhou Yiyi replied.

Meanwhile, Zhou Ting stared intently at Yang Fan, her expression mirroring the one she’d worn in the taxi earlier.
“I feel as though you’ve changed somehow, but I can’t quite put my finger on it,” Zhou Ting said, puzzled.

Yang Fan hurried to explain, “Oh, maybe it’s because I broke through to the First Rank Martial Apprentice. I might look a little different.”

He felt a pang of guilt—the real reason for his strengthened spiritual power was something he couldn’t explain. He certainly couldn’t reveal he had a system inside him; otherwise, he’d be carted off for research.

“First Rank? But it’s only been one afternoon! You reached First Rank already?” Zhou Yiyi’s disbelief was written all over her face.

“Yeah, First Rank. But it wasn’t just one afternoon—from last night to tonight, it took a full twenty-four hours,” Yang Fan said, modest on the surface but secretly proud.

“That’s still impressively fast. First Rank talent is truly First Rank talent,” Zhou Yiyi said, a little downcast. It stung; she’d grown up with all sorts of supplements, and though she could now sense the power in her blood, she was still some way from controlling it. Yet this guy, who’d never practiced cultivation, managed to reach First Rank in a single day.

“First Rank talent really is strong. Becoming a First Rank Martial Apprentice in a day is remarkable,” Zhou Ting agreed, though she couldn’t shake the feeling that Yang Fan’s transformation wasn’t just about breaking through a cultivation stage. Yet she had no alternative explanation.

“There’s something secretive about him,” Zhou Ting mused inwardly.

“Alright, weren’t we going for a midnight snack? Let’s go to the cafeteria,” Yang Fan shifted the topic, noticing Zhou Ting’s gaze hadn’t softened after his explanation—if anything, it had grown more intense.

He couldn’t keep dwelling on this subject, or he’d have no way to explain himself.

“The cafeteria? Are you stupid? It’s been closed for ages. We’re going off campus,” Zhou Yiyi shot him a scornful look.

“Off campus?” Yang Fan was stunned. Heading off campus for a midnight snack at this hour? This was the Modu Cultivation Academy, with nothing but wilderness for twenty kilometers around. Would they have to go all the way into Modu city for this snack? Were these two women so idle? Did they not need to cultivate?

He had thought they’d just eat at the academy cafeteria, planning to return and continue cultivating after dinner; he still had three First Rank Blood Energy Pills left unused.

“Eating is secondary. Tonight, there’s something interesting happening near Modu. Since you’ve officially stepped into the world of cultivation, we thought we’d let you see it for yourself,” Zhou Ting explained.

“Something interesting? What is it?” Yang Fan asked, puzzled.

“You’ll find out when you see it. Come on, let’s eat first, then go watch the excitement,” Zhou Yiyi said impatiently.

Her mood wasn’t great—Yang Fan’s breakthrough had caught her off guard, leaving her feeling unequal and unsettled.

With that, Zhou Yiyi dragged Zhou Ting away, Yang Fan following behind.
Well, he’d better be cautious these next few days. He couldn’t afford to provoke this girl—who knows what she might do if she’s upset? He hadn’t interacted with her many times, but even those few encounters had been enough.

The car was the same Mercedes G-class. The three left the academy—since it was the holidays, no one restricted their departure—and headed toward Modu.

...

“Let’s go. We’ve finished eating, and it’s about time to see the excitement,” Zhou Ting said, glancing at the now empty hotpot.

“Alright, let’s go,” Zhou Yiyi was feeling better—after all, in her heart, nothing could be betrayed except good food.

Yang Fan quickly went to pay the bill. Since they were taking him out to broaden his horizons, he couldn’t let them foot the bill. He paid a painful two hundred and forty yuan.

He consoled himself: bread will come, love will come; as long as he became strong, everything would come. Damn, his heart still hurt.

...

After paying, the three stepped out of the hotpot restaurant. Once in the car, Yang Fan asked again, “Senior Sister, what exactly are we going to do? Tell me—I’ve been holding back all this way.”

Zhou Ting looked back, amused at Yang Fan’s constipated expression.
“It’s nothing major—tonight, two Third Rank martial artists are meeting for a duel. We’re taking you two to watch, so you can see what combat between martial artists is like. It’s not a fight to the death, but it’s good for you to learn.”

“Duels between martial artists are rare. Under the jurisdiction of the Sky Net, martial artists are forbidden from fighting one another. However, regulated sparring matches are allowed, but even then you have to apply to the local Cultivator Management Bureau in advance. Only after approval and venue selection by the bureau can it happen,” Zhou Yiyi supplemented.

Yang Fan’s excitement soared—it was a martial artist duel, and between Third Rank cultivators! He was thrilled.

What was the purpose of cultivation? From what Yang Fan understood, it was to resist the invasion of the Dark Realm, to protect Earth and humanity.

But what would protect humanity? Naturally, martial prowess. Cultivation, in essence, was the process of continually strengthening one’s fighting power.

And how to measure fighting power? There was only one way: combat.

Yang Fan knew that, since he’d embarked on the path of cultivation, sooner or later he’d venture into the ruins and engage in battle.

What was housed in the academy’s Battle Technique Building? Though he’d never been inside, he knew it contained powerful martial arts and combat techniques. And what were they for? For battle.

Yang Fan fell silent, yearning to witness the martial artist duel that awaited him.

Soon the car had left Modu’s urban area, heading toward the outskirts.

...

Where were they now? Yang Fan wondered. Being from out of town, he wasn’t even clear on the route back to Modu Cultivation Academy. Zhou Ting’s driving had left him utterly disoriented.

When the car stopped, only one large building stood before them—a warehouse.

He followed Zhou Ting and Zhou Yiyi toward the warehouse entrance.

“Modu Cultivation Academy—Zhou Ting, Zhou Yiyi, Yang Fan—here to observe the duel.”

At the entrance, Zhou Ting addressed the guards.

The guard said nothing, glanced at the trio, then opened the door and stepped aside.

Before entering, Yang Fan imagined the interior would be extraordinary—at the very least, there would be a ring. Otherwise, how would they compete? But once inside, he was filled with self-doubt: it really was just an empty warehouse, nothing more. No ring, no seats, nothing as he’d imagined.

Inside, a dozen or so people were already gathered, both men and women, mostly young, with only one middle-aged face among them.

“Zhou Ting, you’re here too? I heard you’ve reached Fourth Rank Martial Master—why bother watching a Third Rank duel?” someone asked as soon as Zhou Ting and her group entered.

Zhou Ting glanced at the speaker, offering no response and ignoring him completely.

The man, seeing Zhou Ting’s indifference, looked a bit embarrassed but didn’t press further. After all, Zhou Ting was a Fourth Rank Martial Master; among this crowd, no one could match her. The strong ignoring the weak was normal. Though most were peers in age, in the world of cultivation, strength was respected.

Awkward as it was, it was better than getting beaten up. Only fools spouted tough words.

The three found a spot away from the others and stood.

Zhou Yiyi looked around and said, “We’re early, Sister. Shen Qinghe and Wang Moyan aren’t here yet. We came too soon—we should’ve eaten a bit longer.”

“You! The time’s about right, they’ll be here soon. Just wait,” Zhou Ting said, exasperated with her sister. Sometimes she was perfectly normal, but when she wasn’t, she was truly unpredictable—even Zhou Ting couldn’t handle her.

Like today, when she suddenly came to the academy, saying she’d pestered their father for ages until he finally agreed to let her enroll early. Zhou Ting had no words.

Yang Fan was speechless, too. Eat more? The bill was two hundred and forty yuan—Zhou Yiyi must have eaten one hundred and twenty herself, and still wanted more? Was she joking?

Just then, the main door opened again, admitting a young man, about Yang Fan’s height—around one meter eighty—holding a spear. It wasn’t a firearm, but a cold weapon, a long spear.

The shaft was silver, the tip faintly tinged red. Even Yang Fan, unfamiliar as he was, could tell the spear was valuable. After all, it belonged to a Third Rank martial artist—it couldn’t be cheap. He must be wealthier than Yang Fan himself.

The man strode to the center of the warehouse.

Once he was in place, the door opened again. Another young man entered, shorter and ordinary in appearance, carrying a long saber about one and a half meters in length, with a handle nearly twenty centimeters long.

He, too, walked to the center.

When both stood ready, the sole middle-aged man in the crowd stepped forward.

He regarded the two and said, “Gentlemen, I am Li Qing, Office Director of Modu Cultivator Management Bureau, and the person responsible for this duel, as well as your referee. During the match, if one party concedes or loses the ability to fight, the duel ends. No fighting to the death. If one loses combat ability and the other tries to take their life, the Sky Net will issue a warrant for their arrest. So please show restraint. Any objections?”

Li Qing looked to both men.

“None from me. How about you, Wang Moyan?” the man with the spear said.

“Of course not, Shen Qinghe. We’re not fighting to the death, but I want your Third Rank Yellow List ranking,” replied Wang Moyan, brandishing his saber.

“Very well. If neither of you has objections, please adhere to the rules set by the Cultivator Management Bureau. You may begin.”

Li Qing stepped away from the center, not too far—if sparks flew and things got out of hand, he had to be ready to intervene, so he couldn’t stray.

“You want my ranking? Come and take it, then. I’d like to experience your Berserker Three-Blade technique myself.”

“Alright, let’s do this.”

With that, both men lifted their weapons and began channeling their inner energy.