A Boring Day in the Dorm

A moment later.

Meng Chunqiu sat silently in a corner of the sofa, holding Great Xia Poetry and pretending to read it intently.

Jiang Lai sat down on the sofa too, his face covered in bruises.

Chen Shu eyed him, curiosity getting the better of him:

"Where do you fight?"

"An underground arena outside the city."

"What, your classmates can't give you enough of a challenge?"

"Not really..." Jiang Lai said, looking embarrassed. "But mainly, I do it for the money."

"Did you win or lose?"

"I won."

"You won and still got beaten up like this?"

"That's normal. The paying spectators like it that way. With a Martial Artist's constitution, these scrapes won't even show tomorrow, and they'll heal in a few days."

"Do you fight there often?"

"More or less."

"When did you start?"

"When I was fifteen."

"Fifteen? Were you that hard up for money?"

"..." Jiang Lai fell silent for a moment. "I treated it as sparring. Training in the ring works better, anyway."

"Fair enough. Martial Artists have to spar regularly regardless, so you might as well do it in the ring. It's more realistic, and you get paid." Chen Shu watched his expression, then paused. "So you've been fighting for five years? You must have built up quite a following."

"Not that much..."

"Does it pay well?"

"Very."

After answering, Jiang Lai glanced at him. Knowing Chen Shu practiced martial arts too, he added, "If you're handsome, you can fight exhibition matches. There are lots of wealthy women, and the money's good."

"Seriously?"

"Seriously."

"Are exhibition matches tough?"

"Not really, but sometimes you still have to get hurt. Getting hurt is the point." Jiang Lai was frank. "I fought exhibition matches when I first started. Some of the older women liked watching, and when they saw me get hurt, they'd throw lots of money at me."

"Do you make more now, or did you make more fighting exhibition matches?"

"More now."

"Well, that's something." Chen Shu glanced at Jiang Lai's clothes, which plainly weren't expensive. "But you really took a beating..."

"My skills weren't good enough."

"It's because you don't have any Runes engraved on you, isn't it? I've always wondered why you don't get any." Chen Shu blinked at him. "Everyone else has so many Runes. They get the extra power and protection, while you're at a huge disadvantage in a fight."

"They're really expensive."

"You have to know when to invest. You've fought in the ring for years. There's no point leaving all that money sitting around when you could spend it on Runes," Chen Shu said. "You're talented. With Runes on top of that, your strength would go up at least a whole level, wouldn't it? You'd earn more money too. Then you'd have a virtuous cycle."

"I just don't understand this stuff..."

"See? You're letting your talent go to waste."

"I was thinking I'd do it later..."

"Ah..."

Chen Shu sighed. His questions had made Jiang Lai uneasy, and his swollen baby face looked rather aggrieved, so Chen Shu stopped pressing him:

"Doesn't your department offer any help?"

"We get one free Rune engraving each in our second, third, and fourth years," Jiang Lai answered honestly. "But the school only gives us standard Runes to choose from. Our teacher said they're all pretty basic, and a few are even a little outdated. He suggested we bring our own Runes and have the department pay an engraver to do them."

"Are there restrictions?"

"Our teacher said the department has strict rules about Rune grades, but if our grades are good, they'll accept higher-grade Runes we bring ourselves."

"Sounds like they've got plenty of funding."

"Maybe."

"You could find a Rune designer to make something tailored to you. Standard Runes aren't ideal."

"That's really expensive, and the higher the grade, the more the design costs. But if I don't get high-grade ones, the old Runes might not be much use after I advance. Then I'd have to scrape them off, get new designs, and have them engraved all over again. It'd waste so much money."

"Then let me design them for you. Runes are my specialty. Give me some time to study you, and I guarantee they'll perfectly suit your abilities and fighting habits."

"Well..."

"Come on, trust my skills..."

"That's not what I meant..." Jiang Lai said hurriedly. "How much would it cost?"

"Nothing." Chen Shu waved a hand. "You've let me tag along to several classes. I've learned a lot and saved plenty on a monthly martial arts gym membership."

"Thank you! Thank you!"

"Take me to the arena sometime. I want to see what it's like." Chen Shu touched his handsome face. "Look at this face, and I've got presence too. Think I could do exhibition matches?"

"Chen, I can't tell..."

"Okay, I get it!"

"Sorry..."

"Your apology hurt me!"

"Sorry..."

"..."

Meng Chunqiu sat quietly at the other end of the sofa, uninterested in their crude, barbaric conversation. Yet he couldn't focus on the poetry book in his hands either. Only after the two finished talking did he finally find a chance to speak. The sky beyond the balcony had already grown dark:

"Jiang, have you had dinner?"

"Not yet."

"Chen made winter melon and pork rib soup and boiled pork slices tonight. There's plenty left in the fridge. Heat some up," Meng Chunqiu said. "Whatever Chen makes is bound to be much better than cafeteria food or takeout."

"Oh, okay..."

Jiang Lai struggled to get up.

Seeing that, Chen Shu stopped him and said helplessly, "Stay there. I'll heat it up for you."

"I—I can do it myself."

"I'm afraid you won't be able to hold the bowl steady and you'll break it."

"I won't, I won't."

"Just sit."

"Then thank you."

"It's nothing."

Chen Shu rolled his neck. What a bother.

He hated these troublesome little chores most of all.

When Jiang Lai finally sat at the dining table and picked up his chopsticks, he looked at the steaming dishes before him. For some reason, an odd feeling came over him, something unfamiliar.

The television lit up the living room.

Voices kept coming from it.

It was the evening news.

"With our country's military assistance, order has largely been restored within Puluo. This has also thwarted the schemes of foreign powers, and the people of Puluo are enjoying peace after a long absence...

"The Hunter 34 Fighter's maiden flight has drawn close attention from internet users. As our country's future mainstay fighter aircraft, whether it can operate from an Aerospace Carrier and exactly when mass production and delivery to the military will begin are the questions they care about most...

"The twenty-first World Environmental Conference was held in the Jade Capital. At the conference, our country's representative proposed...

"According to records in the Classic of Strange Beasts, unearthed from the Cube in Yuanzhou, the long-debated question of when Otherworldly Beasts first appeared has now been settled. A history professor at Ling'an Academy said this was quite possibly the greatest archaeological discovery in recent years...

"His Majesty the Emperor visited Yunlai and was welcomed by crowds lining the streets of its capital, Wrinkleleaf City. At the royal palace, the king led his officials in kneeling to greet him..."

Chen Shu sipped a glass of milk and watched the footage on the Jade Capital news.

The current emperor of Yi Nation was already very old.

Was he over two hundred and eighty?

He'd been on the throne for almost forty years, hadn't he?

Among Yi Nation's emperors, that counted as a long life.

That was because the imperial family had made a trade-off in the spiritual arts it cultivated—

It wasn't even the present imperial family that had developed this spiritual art. The previous dynasty's imperial family had. Chen Shu still didn't know how it worked, since it had never been made public. He only knew its advantages: cultivation was fast and simple, and advancement was relatively easy. It had helped produce many Ninth Tier cultivators in both dynasties' imperial families. In fact, if you counted Yi Nation's emperors throughout its history, you'd find that at least two-thirds of them had reached the Ninth Tier.

Those numbers were terrifying.

No matter how good the founding emperor's genes had been, they couldn't account for that.

Most of the credit had to go to this spiritual art.

But its drawback was clear: it did much less to extend one's lifespan—

Setting aside those who had died in battle, Yi Nation's emperors generally began to decline spiritually at around two hundred and eighty even if they reached the Ninth Tier. In ancient times, that would have been an ordinary lifespan for a Seventh Tier cultivator. That was speaking only of Ancient Cultivators; modern spiritual arts had improved greatly, and it would take at least a few hundred more years to know exactly how long their practitioners could live.

This spiritual art effectively sacrificed each emperor's lifespan to preserve the imperial dynasty as a whole.

For a dynasty to endure, that was necessary. In a world like this, especially in ancient times, an imperial family ruling without high-tier cultivators would have struggled to last.

Great Xia was an example.

Yi Nation's emperors faced even fiercer competition.

If your cultivation wasn't high enough, you would have trouble becoming emperor even if you were the only imperial prince.

Take one example—

Yi Nation's emperors usually didn't step down until spiritual decline set in. Otherwise, the heir could inherit the throne only if the emperor died an unnatural death or was deposed. Abdication wasn't an option.

So by the time your imperial father began to decline, you, the heir, would usually be over two hundred yourself.

What did you do before taking the throne?

Cultivate like mad!

Otherwise, you wouldn't even outlive your father.

Had any direct descendant of the imperial family ever been so confident in his extraordinary talent that he had abandoned this spiritual art for an ordinary one to gain a longer lifespan?

It hadn't happened yet.

It probably wasn't allowed, either.

It would throw the whole order into chaos.

After all, the gods watched from three feet above your head.

The news began showing footage of the current emperor's visit to Yunlai. Yunlai was still a small absolute monarchy. Supposedly, its prime minister had to kneel whenever he reported state affairs to the king. Now that same king had led his officials in kneeling before Yi Nation's emperor.

The sight was surreal.

At least, Chen Shu thought so.

Yi Nation had abolished the ritual of kneeling long ago, and the emperor hardly involved himself in government anymore. His Majesty didn't receive treatment like that even at home.

Still, Yi Nation's emperor remained formidable.

Fourteen countries in Central Continent still recognized Yi Nation as their suzerain. They considered themselves vassal states and, in name, honored its emperor as their sovereign while calling themselves his subjects. Even leaving that aside, the current emperor was a genuine Ninth Tier cultivator. His personal combat power alone rivaled that of a major power's fleet carrying strategic weapons. Destroying a small country would be easy for him.

Only a superpower had the military strength to hunt down a Ninth Tier cultivator using modern weapons alone, without deploying another Ninth Tier cultivator.

The imperial family also had at least several other Ninth Tier cultivators, along with Ninth Tier cultivators outside the family who had sworn loyalty to the emperor. Most Ninth Tier cultivators alive today were several hundred years old. A century ago, the imperial family still held unquestioned authority in this country, and most of them had once bowed their heads before it.

Everyone had to show Yi Nation's imperial family proper respect.

And because national policies differed, the emperor sometimes received better treatment on foreign visits than he did at home.

But Chen Shu guessed the emperor didn't have much time left—

A few years at most?

Then his spiritual decline would begin.

The public wouldn't see it, though. To preserve the imperial family's dignity, an emperor who began to decline usually never appeared before the public again.

Chen Shu drained his milk in one gulp and licked his lips. It tasted rich and fragrant.

He set the glass on the coffee table and looked beside him. Meng Chunqiu wasn't looking at his book anymore; he was watching the news footage.

"Meng."

"Hmm? What is it, Chen?"

"You're so impressive. Don't tell me you're part of the imperial family?"

"Huh?"

Meng Chunqiu froze for a moment before saying, "Is that so strange? The Jade Capital is full of imperial family members. There's even one active in show business right now. A few days ago, she wore a short skirt and did a sexy dance to encourage a lecherous exam candidate. Then her grandfather called her home and gave her a thorough scolding."

"I thought that candidate seemed pretty respectable. You could tell from his eyes he was an upright man."

"Really?" Meng Chunqiu didn't care much about that. "Actually, most people surnamed Meng in the Jade Capital have some connection to the imperial family, however distant. Honestly, it's nothing special."

"Fair enough..." Chen Shu paused. "You're not from the direct line, are you?"

"You guessed that because of my distinguished bearing and overflowing talent, didn't you?" Meng Chunqiu suddenly brightened. "Still, you have a good eye."

"Okay, so you're not."

"Tch..."

The news moved on to another story, and Meng Chunqiu looked away from the television.

He tipped his head back against the top of the sofa and stared at the ceiling, speaking with an air of ease. "Really, what does the imperial family matter? What does the emperor matter? Power, wealth, beauty—what are they worth to me? What do they have to do with me? I won't become emperor anyway, so that heavy burden will never fall on my shoulders. All I want in this life is poetry, wine, song, and tea, to drift like an idle cloud or a wild crane. Ideally, I'd be a wandering poet. All that messy business, every last bit of it, has nothing to do with me, Meng Chunqiu."

He paused, then sighed. "It's a pity there are so few people like me left in this world..."

"So, an unemployed drifter?"

"Chen."

"Hmm?"

"Talk less."

"All right."

Chen Shu rose from the sofa and glanced at Jiang Lai, who was still eating. He told him to leave the dishes where they were when he finished; Chen Shu would wash them in the morning. Then he went back to his room.

Time for his daily cultivation.