Chapter Twenty-Three: The Ways of the World

"I don't want to stay here for even another second!" Yang Fan wiped the cold sweat from his forehead, calmed his heart, which was pounding like a war drum, and turned to look at Zhao Rui.

"Neither do I!"

The two hurried to their bikes and rode to a hotel near the school, where they checked in immediately. They didn't want to go home just yet; who knew if that eccentric old man might do something drastic? Logically speaking, the probability of that was practically zero. If he had wanted to kill them, it would have been as easy as turning over his hand, and he wouldn't have cared about doing it in broad daylight. Even in broad daylight, no one would have been able to perceive the dark methods he used.

After settling into the hotel and calling home with a fabricated excuse, Zhao Rui sat cross-legged, circulating his energy through his meridians to check for any abnormalities. Although, well, there was a high probability he wouldn't find anything, it was for peace of mind—better than nothing.

"Dad, I'm scared. What should I do?"

On the other side, Yang Fan was already sobbing like a child in front of his phone, video-calling his father for help. At this point, he didn't care about the prospect of getting a beating; his life was what mattered. Yang Fan’s father was a businessman with wide connections, including some people in the underworld. After hearing his son's story, he broke into a cold sweat, told them not to go anywhere, and immediately drove over.

Within fifteen minutes, Yang Yutai arrived with two bodyguards.

"Dad, I was wrong! You have to save me, I don't want to die!" Yang Fan, the coward, completely broke down, clinging to his father and weeping uncontrollably, wiping snot and tears all over his father's shoulder.

"That's enough! It's not as serious as you think," Yang Yutai said, unable to laugh or cry at his son’s pathetic display. He looked over at Zhao Rui, who had been sitting calmly in meditation when they entered, and couldn't help but curse under his breath—dragons beget dragons, phoenixes beget phoenixes; he had sired this one himself, so he had no one else to blame.

"Huh? Dad, what do you mean?" Yang Fan blinked, wiping his nose with his sleeve, and asked with surprise.

"When gods fight, it has nothing to do with small fries like you two. This ends here; don't go around gossiping about it!"

"Oh? Oh! Dad, I won't, I won't! That's great, I love you, Dad!" Yang Fan excitedly pulled Yang Yutai into a bear hug. Although Yang Fan was his biological son, he took after his mother; Yang Yutai himself was a thin, slight man. Now, caught in his son's embrace, his face turned a mixture of black and red.

"Uncle Yang, I'm sorry," Zhao Rui said apologetically from the side once Yang Fan had calmed down.

Although it was Yang Fan who suggested going to the entertainment venue, Zhao Rui had participated and failed to provide the advice a friend should have. He apologized sincerely, realizing he had underestimated the prevalence of violence in this world. Having spent his time lately just drifting between school and the martial arts gym, he had truly lost his sense of awe.

"There's no need for that. You two are adults now; some things are bound to happen, and it's better to guide rather than block. As parents, we know you are more mature than Fan. Try to guide him more in the future."

"Yes, Uncle Yang, I will." Zhao Rui wanted to say more, but that was all he could manage.

"Alright, enough crying and laughing. Go home and prepare for your punishment," Yang Yutai said, throwing a look at his son, who was now grinning foolishly.

"I don't care about the punishment! Haha!" Although Yang Fan wasn't great at martial arts, he had been training for years and could handle a little discipline.

"Let's go, let's get something to eat!" Yang Yutai took the two young men to a high-end restaurant nearby for a good meal, hoping to soothe their nerves so they wouldn't suffer any lasting psychological trauma—and ruin their chances with girls in the future.

After the meal, Zhao Rui declined a ride and took a taxi home. His parents, Zhao Jincheng and his wife, were slightly surprised that their son hadn't come home earlier, but Zhao Rui brushed it off with an excuse.

"Mom, Dad, I'm tired. I'm going to rest in my room." Zhao Rui drank some water and headed straight to his room.

Today’s events had a massive impact on him, shattering the vanity and arrogance he had felt during the college entrance exam period. It turned out the world was far more dangerous than he had realized. Even with the system panel, he was still just a weakling in the eyes of others until he grew stronger. Zhao Rui couldn't help but feel a lingering fear. If this hadn't happened, who knew how arrogant he might have become?

A martial artist practices both their craft and their heart. Zhao Rui took a deep breath and began to meditate, practicing the "Ethereal Divine Art." Despite its impressive name—coined by his unreliable master—this internal cultivation technique was not actually a divine art at all. It was just a standard technique, not common, but certainly not top-tier. It had been enough for him in the past, but now that he had the system, he craved something more profound.

Unfortunately, such things were rare. Unless one had a powerful background or incredible luck, it was impossible for the average person to obtain top-tier cultivation methods. Martial moves might be a dime a dozen, but internal cultivation techniques never were.

He couldn't afford to be overly ambitious. Zhao Rui calmed his mind and practiced meticulously.

By 11:00 PM, after finishing his session and scrolling through short videos on his phone, he received a call from Yang Fan.

"The news is out! It's explosive! Look at the Lin City Daily."

Zhao Rui opened his browser and searched. Sure enough, there was a striking headline: "In order to effectively combat criminal activity, our city's police department has recently launched a special summer storm operation... It is reported that the Xiaoyao Pavilion and several other entertainment venues have received notices to suspend operations for rectification..."

Zhao Rui shook his head as he read. The struggle between the light and dark was everywhere, though he wondered what role the "Fire Cloud Evil God" had played in this.

"I saw it. Since it has nothing to do with us, just get some sleep."

"Sigh, nothing more to say. I'll take you again once the heat dies down."

"You really don't know when to quit, do you?"

"Haha, of course! My dad doesn't even object."

They chatted for a bit longer before hanging up.

...

The next day, Zhao Rui went to Wende Martial Arts as usual. After yesterday's events, he felt an even more urgent need to improve his strength. He didn't just spar with the paying students; he even practiced with the instructors during his free time, determined not to waste a second.

One could accumulate more progress through sparring than by practicing alone for a year. The instructor's technique was nothing special—just the standard "Chaotic Cloak Saber." He only held his position because he had specialized, trained for a long time, and possessed a deep internal energy. Compared to some of the genius students, he was lacking, but Zhao Rui didn't care. A black cat or a white cat, if it catches mice, it's a good cat.