"Creak—"
The old security door groaned under the strain as Lin Fan shoved it open. A faint smell of mildew mixed with the fresh scent of laundry detergent wafted toward him. This was the only place he had in the city, a cramped space of less than ten square meters that held all his weariness and peace.
He practically dragged and half-carried the self-proclaimed "this seat" of a man in ancient-style clothing inside, then shut and locked the door behind them. Only then did he let out a long breath, feeling as if all his strength had been drained away.
He carefully laid the man on the single bed, which doubled as a sofa and a pile of miscellaneous belongings. Then Lin Fan collapsed onto the only plastic chair nearby, gasping for breath.
"Phew... We're finally... here." He wiped his forehead, though there wasn't any sweat there. Mostly, he was just exhausted mentally.
Only a dim bedside lamp was on, casting a hazy glow over the cramped room. At last, Lin Fan had a chance to take a proper look at the unexpected guest he had "picked up."
The man was sitting against the headboard. Even in such a disheveled and weakened state, his back remained perfectly straight, as if he weren't sitting on a cheap single bed piled with laundry, but on some lofty throne in the heavens. His eyes were half closed, his long lashes lowered. The dim light made his face look even paler, yet the innate aura of one who looked down upon all living beings had not weakened in the slightest. If anything, the contrast with the cramped, suffocating room made it seem even more jarring—and oppressive.
He seemed to be silently regulating his breathing, or perhaps trying to sense an environment that was completely unfamiliar to him. His brows were faintly furrowed, as if deeply displeased by the air's energy—if it even existed—being so thin as to be almost nonexistent.
Looking at him, Lin Fan felt that same absurdity welling up inside him again. Had he really brought home some ancient-clothed guy who spoke like he was from an old book and called himself "this seat"? If the gossipy crowd at work found out, they'd laugh themselves silly.
"Um... man," Lin Fan said, clearing his throat in an attempt to break the suffocating silence. "I still don't know what to call you."
The man on the bed slowly opened his eyes. In the dim yellow light, his deep gaze seemed to conceal a whirlpool, one that could suck a person's soul inside. He glanced at Lin Fan and spoke in a calm, emotionless voice that nevertheless sounded like a declaration:
"I am Tong Tian."
"Tong Tian?" Lin Fan froze, instinctively searching his memory for any famous people, celebrities, or influencers by that name. He came up empty. It sounded pretty imposing, if a little chuunibyou. "Oh, Tong Tian... bro. I'm Lin Fan. Lin as in the two-wood character, Fan as in ordinary."
He thought for a moment, then added, "This is my place. It's... pretty shabby, so just make do. The bathroom's over there—it's where you go to the toilet and wash up. Want to clean yourself up first?"
The man calling himself "Tong Tian"—or, more accurately, the Interception Sect's Master Tongtian, a Sage who had just endured the shattering of the Primordial Era and a change in the Heavenly Dao, and been forced to cross into this world—had had more than nine-tenths of his earth-shaking cultivation suppressed and was now extremely weak and disoriented. At this, his gaze followed Lin Fan's finger to the small, closed door.
His divine sense was obstructed, but he could still perceive the basics. He could "hear" the faint sound of water flowing through pipes behind the door, and vaguely sense the water vapor and some... scents mixed with chemical fragrances that he could not understand permeating the little space.
It was completely different from the experience of summoning water from the Milky Way in the heavens or bathing in a spirit spring. It carried a rough, man-made quality.
He gave a slight nod without saying anything, then tried to stand on his own. However, the damage caused by crossing the barrier of time and space had far exceeded his expectations, and this "land devoid of spiritual energy" rejected an existence like him in every way. As soon as he rose, his vision went black. A powerful wave of dizziness washed over him, and his body swayed uncontrollably.
Lin Fan reacted quickly and hurried over to support him. "Hey, careful!"
Tong Tian's arm stiffened again, but this time he did not immediately push Lin Fan away. The weakness deep in his soul left him no choice but to rely on this mortal, who seemed as feeble as an ant to him. The realization stirred a trace of humiliation in his heart, but more than that, it made him wary of the unknown predicament he faced.
He let Lin Fan support him as they walked toward the tiny cubicle called the "bathroom."
Lin Fan opened the bathroom door and switched on the energy-saving light. Its stark white glow instantly illuminated an even smaller space: a toilet, a sink, a showerhead, and various cheap plastic toiletries.
Standing in the doorway, Tong Tian surveyed every item inside with the air of a scholar conducting an academic study.
His gaze first landed on the white porcelain toilet, and his brow twitched almost imperceptibly. This object had an odd shape, and there was water inside. It was neither quite a vessel nor quite not. What was it for?
Then his gaze was drawn to the silver showerhead hanging on the wall. Its metallic texture and the hose attached to it were equally beyond his understanding.
Finally, his eyes settled on the toothbrush Lin Fan had left in a battered rinsing cup beside the sink. Its bristles were crooked, and it looked... rather shabby.
Watching him stand there with his deep, expressionless gaze, as if comprehending some supreme Dao, Lin Fan began to feel uneasy. He tentatively pointed at the toilet. "This is a toilet. You use it to relieve yourself." Then he pointed at the showerhead. "That's a shower. Turn on the tap and water comes out. You can use it to bathe." Finally, he picked up the toothbrush. "This is a toothbrush. You use it to brush your teeth and keep your mouth clean."
He tried to explain in the simplest, most straightforward terms possible, feeling like a kindergarten teacher.
Tong Tian gave no indication that he had heard him. He simply stepped inside. His movements were still unsteady, but his bearing was as composed as if he were inspecting his own Biyou Palace.
He stood in front of the toilet and stared at it silently for a few seconds. Then he reached out, seeming to want to touch its smooth porcelain surface, but stopped just before his fingertips made contact. Instead, he looked at the roll of toilet paper beside it, and a hint of confusion crossed his eyes again.
Lin Fan watched from the side, on tenterhooks, afraid the man would ask something like, "What is this silk cloth for?"—a question he wouldn't know how to answer.
Fortunately, Tong Tian didn't ask. Using his powerful powers of deduction—or something else—he seemed to have roughly figured out what these things were for, though his understanding might have differed somewhat from that of modern people. He turned his attention to the sink instead.
He imitated the way Lin Fan had turned on the tap earlier and twisted the silver knob.
"Whoosh—"
A stream of clear water instantly gushed from the faucet, splashing against the white porcelain basin with a crisp sound.
Tong Tian was clearly startled by the water's "sudden" appearance. His face remained expressionless, but Lin Fan caught a fleeting glimmer of surprise in his eyes. Tong Tian held out his hand and cupped some water.
It was cold, with a faint smell of disinfectant.
For Master Tongtian, who was accustomed to drinking fine nectar and bathing in spirit springs, this was no different from... wastewater.
He frowned, shook the water from his hand, and turned off the tap. His movements were a little awkward, but he learned remarkably quickly.
"This water... is filthy and inferior." He gave his verdict with undisguised disdain.
Lin Fan: "...It's tap water. You have to boil it before you drink it. You can heat bathwater with the water heater over there." He pointed to the little box on the wall.
Tong Tian glanced where Lin Fan had pointed, but said nothing. He seemed to have lost interest in bathing for the time being, perhaps thinking that washing in such "filthy water" would sully his holy body. He turned around and surveyed the tiny space again, finally fixing his gaze on the mirror.
The mirror reflected a pale, tired, yet impossibly handsome face, along with a pair of deep eyes that seemed bottomless and now held an indescribable confusion.
He stared silently at his reflection, as if looking at a stranger. For countless ages in the Primordial Era, he had been a supreme Sage. Never had he imagined he would fall into such a predicament: stripped of his magic power, stranded in another world, and lodged in the... hovel of a mere mortal.
For the first time, he quietly tasted something called "misfortune." The feeling was faint, but it was real.
Watching him stare into the mirror, Lin Fan felt a little uneasy, too. The man was strange and haughty, but at that moment, he really did look like a lost wanderer with nowhere to go.
"Um... Brother Tong Tian, take a look around and get used to the place. I... I'll go make us something to eat." Lin Fan figured that sorting out food came first. He was so hungry his stomach was practically touching his back.
Tong Tian drew his gaze away from the mirror and gave a quiet "Mm" in reply.
Lin Fan left the bathroom and gently closed the door behind him. Only then did he feel like he could breathe freely again. Being around this "old ancestor" put way too much pressure on him.
He went over to the little induction cooker in the corner of the room and pulled a plastic box from under the table. Inside was his emergency stash of food: several packs of instant noodles in different flavors, a few sausages, and a couple of eggs.
"Sigh. Looks like it's just you tonight, old pal." Lin Fan picked up a pack of braised beef noodles and sighed. He'd been thinking of splurging on takeout, but after glancing at the man on the bed—who hadn't said anything outright, but clearly looked like he'd be expensive to keep—he decided he'd better save his money.
He deftly opened the packaging and took out the noodles and seasoning packets, then set water to boil. While he waited, he couldn't help glancing at the closed bathroom door again. It was silent inside; not a sound came from it.
"Did he faint in there?" Lin Fan started to worry. He went over and listened, but still heard nothing. He hesitated, wondering whether he should knock.
Just then, the water boiled, and the induction cooker beeped.
Lin Fan had no choice but to go back and make the noodles first. He put the noodles in a large bowl, sprinkled in the seasoning, poured in boiling water, then covered the bowl with another plate.
The rich aroma of braised beef noodles, heavy with food additives, instantly filled the cramped room.
To Lin Fan, who was used to the office cafeteria and takeout, it was a familiar, tempting smell. But to certain beings...
Click.
The bathroom door opened gently.
Tong Tian came out. He seemed to have simply splashed some water on his face. A few tiny droplets clung to his hair and slid down the sharp line of his jaw. His complexion looked a little better, but he was still pale.
As soon as he came out, he stopped in his tracks.
His deep eyes locked onto the source of the smell like the most precise radar: the bowl on the table, filled with food steeping under a lid and giving off a "strange" aroma?
His brow furrowed more tightly than ever. His gaze was full of scrutiny, suspicion, and the wary look of someone who had just seen some strange medicinal concoction brewed by evil heretics.
"What is this? Why does it smell so... muddled and impure?" he asked, his voice clearly rejecting it. This smell was billions of miles from the spiritual delicacies and heavenly treasures he knew. To his keen senses, the various chemical seasonings in it were practically poison.
Lin Fan was peeling a sausage. At this, he looked up and saw Tong Tian's expression, as if to say, "Are you trying to poison me?" He couldn't help laughing.
"Instant noodles. Braised beef flavor. They're not very nutritious, but they're filling, and they taste pretty good." He waved the sausage in his hand. "Add a sausage and it's perfect."
As he spoke, he lifted the plate covering the bowl.
An even richer, more overpowering aroma spread out like an explosion. White steam rose, blurring Tong Tian's face, which was full of resistance.
Inside the bowl, the curled noodles gradually softened and unfurled in the boiling water. The sauce dissolved, turning the broth an appetizing reddish-brown, with little droplets of oil floating on top.
To Lin Fan, this was comfort for the soul after working late.
To Tong Tian, it was an incomprehensible, suspiciously colored, strange-smelling, impurity-ridden... mush.
"Are mortal things really this low-quality?" His disdain was practically overflowing, and he instinctively took half a step back, as if the noodles were a source of filth. "Those of us who cultivate feed on wind and dew and absorb the essence of heaven and earth. How could we let ourselves be tainted by such... foulness?"
Watching him refuse so solemnly, Lin Fan remembered him practically drooling over the little bread roll downstairs. He couldn't help snickering to himself. Rather than argue, he pulled the bowl of noodles closer, picked up a fork, stirred them a few times, then lifted a big mouthful and blew on it. With a satisfied slurp, he began to eat.
"Mmm! Pretty good!" He made a show of chewing with satisfaction and took a bite of sausage. "Delicious!"
Tong Tian: "..."
He stood still, watching Lin Fan eat with gusto. His Adam's apple rolled, ever so slightly and quite uncontrollably.
The hunger in his stomach, momentarily suppressed by a small piece of bread, surged back at the rich aroma, even fiercer than before. Crossing worlds had consumed too much of his energy, and his body's self-preservation instinct was screaming for nourishment.
Reason and a Sage's dignity told him: this food was inferior, steeped in foulness, useless to eat, and might even harm his Dao foundation—though his Dao foundation was already nearly impossible to sense.
But his physical instincts were roaring: Hungry! So hungry! He needed energy! That thing called "instant noodles" smelled... maybe... perhaps... not that bad?
His mind was caught in a struggle between heaven and humanity. His face still held its cold disdain, but his gaze kept drifting toward the steaming bowl of "evil-smelling" instant noodles.
Lin Fan ate while watching him from the corner of his eye. Seeing him clearly wanting to eat but too proud to admit it, he could hardly keep from laughing. Still, he put on an unconcerned expression.
He ate slowly, making sure his slurping was especially loud.
At last, when Lin Fan had eaten half the bowl and was about to have a sip of broth, Tong Tian seemed to have finally made a difficult decision.
He stepped forward and walked over to the table, seemingly at ease, though a little faster than usual. He didn't sit down. He simply looked down at the bowl of noodles and Lin Fan, whose forehead was damp with sweat.
"This..." he began. His voice was still calm, but on closer listening, it seemed a little tense. "Can it... truly be eaten?"
Lin Fan was delighted inside, but kept a straight face. "Of course. Look at me—I'm eating it just fine. It doesn't have any spiritual energy or essence or anything, but it'll fill you up." He pointed at the induction cooker. "There's still hot water in the pot. Want me to make you a bowl?"
Tong Tian fell silent for a moment. His gaze lingered on the appetizing-looking noodles—which seemed suspicious to him—for a few seconds, then shifted to Lin Fan's perfectly normal face. Finally, as if making a momentous decision, he forced one word from his throat:
"...Very well."
Lin Fan fought back a grin, quickly got up, and took out another pack of noodles. He deftly opened it and put the noodles in another large bowl. This time, he deliberately chose spicy beef flavor.
"Let's change up the flavor for you. Spicy beef—it might have more kick," he said as he prepared it.
Tong Tian stood beside him, silently watching his movements, from opening the package to putting in the noodles and sprinkling in the colorful powder and sauce packets. His gaze was intent, as if he were studying the runes of some complex formation.
When Lin Fan poured boiling water into the bowl, a different scent from the braised beef noodles spread through the room—more pungent and intense. Tong Tian's nostrils flared almost imperceptibly.
They covered the bowl and waited.
This time, the three minutes seemed especially long.
Lin Fan could sense that the "Sage" beside him was growing restless, even though he still seemed calm on the surface.
When time was up, Lin Fan lifted the lid.
Red oil swirled in the bowl. Steam billowed, and the spicy aroma rushed straight into the nose.
Lin Fan handed Tong Tian the fork. "Here, it's ready. Careful, it's hot."
Tong Tian took the plastic fork. It felt feather-light and cheap. He imitated Lin Fan, awkwardly lifting a few strands of noodles.
The noodles were slippery, and it took him several tries to pick up a small bundle. He looked at the food, coated in red oil and radiating heat and a strong aroma, then at Lin Fan's encouraging(?) gaze. At last, with the solemnity of someone "tasting poison," he put a small bite of instant noodles into his mouth.
The next second—
Lin Fan clearly saw Master Tongtian's eyes widen!
It wasn't because of the spice. Even in his weakened state, a Sage's constitution wouldn't be troubled by a little mortal heat. It was the unprecedented, intense, direct assault on his sense of taste!
Salty, savory, fragrant, spicy... All the complex flavors carefully formulated by modern food manufacturing burst across his taste buds! This was completely unlike the fresh, delicate sweetness of spiritual treasures from the Primordial Era, or the plain, coarse taste of mortal food. It was a crude, direct sensory assault, brimming with the "flavor of everyday life"!
He stopped chewing, frozen as if someone had pressed a pause button. Only the deep eyes beneath his brows churned with shock, confusion, and a hint of... approval, carefully hidden away, called "delicious."
Lin Fan watched him nervously. "How is it? Can you handle it? Is it too spicy?"
Tong Tian didn't answer right away. He slowly and carefully chewed the food in his mouth, as if savoring the meaning of the Great Dao. After a long while, he swallowed. Then he looked at the bowl of noodles with an extremely complicated expression, and then at Lin Fan.
"...Acceptable." He still used the same word, but his tone sounded less reluctant than when he had judged the bread.
After saying this, he didn't hesitate. He raised his fork again, moved much more smoothly this time, and lifted a bigger mouthful of noodles. He blew on them—as he'd picked up that gesture quickly—then put them in his mouth.
"Slurp—"
A soft but distinct slurping sound rang out.
Tong Tian: "..."
Lin Fan: "..."
The two of them froze at the same time.
Tong Tian's expression stiffened for a moment, as if he felt awkward about making such an "uncouth" sound. But he quickly ignored the minor incident and kept eating.
At first, his movements still had a trace of elegance and restraint, but soon, driven by both his hunger and the novelty of the taste, he sped up. His fork made a faint clink against the bowl. He ate with focused intensity, and fine beads of sweat even appeared on his forehead, adding a hint of color to his pale face.
The bowl of noodles he had called "acceptable," "inferior," and "steeped in foulness" was rapidly disappearing before their eyes.
Watching him, Lin Fan finally felt completely relieved. A strange sense of accomplishment welled up inside him. Getting this picky "old ancestor" to accept instant noodles counted as an impressive achievement, didn't it?
He finished what was left in his own bowl, then watched Tong Tian drink every last drop of broth, leaving not even a trace of red oil.
Tong Tian set down his bowl and used the tissue Lin Fan handed him—after examining it for a moment, he had figured out what it was for—to wipe his mouth. His movements had returned to their usual composure. Still, the faint blush on his cheeks and the brighter glint in his eyes gave away how satisfied he was.
"Although this food contains impurities, it is of some help in restoring my vitality." He offered a very "objective" assessment, trying to recover the dignity he had just lost.
Lin Fan stifled a laugh and nodded along. "Right, right. As long as it fills you up." He thought to himself: "Some help"? I wonder who just ate every last drop of broth.
With their stomachs full, the atmosphere in the room seemed to ease. At least Lin Fan no longer felt quite so oppressed.
But that brought an even more practical problem.
Sleeping.
Lin Fan's single room had only one bed.
He looked at the bed, then at Tong Tian, who was tall, long-legged, and radiated enough presence to seem two meters eighty tall, and fell into thought.
Could he make this man sleep on the floor? He glanced at Tong Tian's still somewhat weak complexion, even after eating, and at his ancient-style clothes, which looked expensive. If they got wet or dirty, he probably couldn't afford to replace them. It didn't seem practical.
Should he sleep on the floor himself? He wasn't thrilled about that, either. He had to get up early for work tomorrow.
As he hesitated, Tong Tian spoke first.
He pointed to the empty space against the wall, where Lin Fan kept an old mat for doing yoga—though he rarely did it.
"I can meditate here." His tone was calm, as if he were stating the obvious. "This world's spiritual energy is almost nonexistent, but... it's better than nothing."
Lin Fan froze. "Huh? You're sleeping on the floor? That doesn't seem right..." He'd been thinking the same thing, but now that Tong Tian had suggested it himself, Lin Fan felt a little bad.
"It's fine." Tong Tian had already walked over, lifted the hem of his robe, and sat cross-legged. His posture was perfect, his back straight, like a statue about to enter meditation. "Those who cultivate need no bed."
His tone left no room for argument. Now that he had recovered some of his awareness and dignity, there was no way he would accept sleeping in a mere mortal's bed.
Watching him settle into position, with what seemed to be an extremely faint, almost imperceptible current of air flowing around him—though it might have been Lin Fan's imagination—Lin Fan could only leave him to it.
"Alright, then. If you get cold or feel uncomfortable, let me know. I've got a blanket." Lin Fan dug an extra thin blanket out of the cabinet and held it out to him.
Tong Tian glanced at it but didn't take it. With his eyes closed, he said calmly, "There is no need."
Lin Fan awkwardly put the blanket away. Great. Another case of offering kindness only to have it rejected.
He tidied up the bowls and chopsticks, quickly washed up, then turned off the main light, leaving only the dim bedside lamp on before climbing into bed.
Yet Lin Fan couldn't fall asleep.
Everything that had happened that day was too fantastical, like some strange, colorful dream. There was now a weird ancient-clothed man calling himself Tong Tian in his room, eating instant noodles and meditating to cultivate immortality.
He turned his head and looked at Tong Tian, who was sitting on the mat against the wall, as if in the deep meditation of an old monk. The dim light outlined his clear profile. His long lashes were lowered, and his breathing was deep and steady, as if he had truly cut himself off from the world and entered some mysterious state.
Who exactly was he? Where had he come from? What should Lin Fan do tomorrow? Countless questions circled through Lin Fan's mind.
Should he call the police? Send him away? Or just keep him here?
Keep him here? With what? His meager salary?
Lin Fan felt a headache coming on. He rolled over, forcing himself to stop thinking. Things would work themselves out. He'd sleep first and figure it out tomorrow.
Just as he was growing drowsy and about to fall asleep, an extremely faint rustling sound, tinged with malice, and hushed laughter drifted in from outside the window.
"...This is the place, right? The lights are out..."
"Damn it, that pretty boy looked broke as hell. I wasted half the night staking the place out for nothing."
"That guy in the period costume is the one he brought back. He looks like a sucker, and he might have something good on him..."
"We'll sneak in later tonight..."
Lin Fan's drowsiness vanished in an instant!
He jerked his eyes open, and his heart clenched.
It was those thugs from downstairs! They'd actually followed him here! And they were planning to sneak in later tonight?
He held his breath, listening tensely to the sounds outside the window as his palms began to sweat. He lived alone, and trouble like this was what he feared most.
What should he do? Call the police? Would they get here in time? Would that provoke the thugs?
His gaze instinctively shifted to Tong Tian, seated by the wall.
Tong Tian remained seated cross-legged with his eyes closed, as if completely unaware of everything around him. In the dim light, his expression was calm, untouched by joy or sorrow.
Yet just as the malicious whispers outside the window sounded again, Lin Fan clearly saw—
Tong Tian's sharply angled brows, sweeping up toward his temples, furrowed almost imperceptibly.
Though he still hadn't opened his eyes, the faint current of air around him, which had seemed almost nonexistent, appeared to still in that instant.
A chill, faint yet razor-sharp, spread silently through the room, like an inch of a sword slipping from its sheath in the depths of winter. The temperature in the cramped space seemed to drop by several degrees.
Lin Fan's heart skipped a beat.
Before you continue