Fang Chen sat on a cracked pavement bench with his school uniform wrinkled and his messy hair tied carelessly into a low knot.
He held a half-eaten burger in one hand as sauce dripped down his fingers while he chewed with a thoughtful look of divine revelation.
"Marvelous…" he muttered, licking his thumb with exaggerated reverence. "Truly marvelous! What spiritual beast's flesh is this? Tender yet rich in essence. The seasoning—divine! Mortals have surpassed cultivators in culinary arts!"
From within his mind, Huan Chen groaned. "That's a burger, old man. Just beef."
"Beef?" Fang Chen's brows furrowed. "You mean cow flesh?"
"Yeah. Cow flesh."
"…I was sealed for twenty thousand years… and the first thing that makes me question humanity's limits is cow flesh?" he said in mock despair. Then, his expression brightened. "Ha! Huan Chen, I have decided. When I reclaim my vaults, I shall summon every cow in existence and establish the Holy Order of Burgers!"
Huan Chen sighed deeply. "You're insane."
Fang Chen ignored him and reached into his pocket for another burger. Unfortunately, all he pulled out were a few coins and a receipt. His eyes twitched. "What?! That was the last one?"
"You spent all my money on those burgers," Huan Chen's voice replied dryly. "You're literally broke."
"Poverty-stricken rat!" Fang Chen barked. "How can you live in such destitution? Even beggars in the lower realms had better luck than you!"
"Well, sorry for not being a mythical immortal with a harem of maidens and enough wealth to buy kingdoms!"
At that, Fang Chen chuckled darkly with a grin that was both smug and faintly nostalgic. "Harem, you say? Ah… those were simpler times indeed."
Before Huan Chen could argue, a sharp vibration startled Fang Chen. He glanced down at his pocket as his expression shifted to mild alarm. "Something's moving in my robes!"
"That's my phone, idiot."
"Phone…?" Fang Chen muttered suspiciously while holding the rectangular object at arm's length as if it might explode. "Ah that thing every mortal carries around... It buzzes with spiritual energy…"
"That's electricity!"
Ignoring Huan Chen's commentary, Fang Chen pressed the glowing screen and squinted. A strange rectangular projection appeared, showing symbols he barely understood. But one thing he could read clearly was a message:
> Guardian: "Huan Chen, where are you? You should've been home an hour ago."
Fang Chen blinked. "Guardian? What sort of sect title is that?"
"That's my caretaker. You know what, just let me take control before you get us killed or kidnapped."
Fang Chen scowled, folding his arms. "Hmph. I am Fang Chen, Immortal Doctor of the Nine Heavens! You dare command me—"
"You have no idea where I live, do you?"
"…Proceed," Fang Chen said flatly.
A faint ripple of will passed through their shared consciousness, and suddenly the ancient immortal's confident posture softened.
Huan Chen gasped for air, blinking rapidly as he regained control. His knees nearly buckled under the sudden shift of presence.
He adjusted his tie, wiped his hands on his pants, and sighed. "Finally I'm back..."
> "Don't celebrate too quickly."
"I'm never giving up control again."
He started walking toward the nearest bus stop.
---
Far from the neon lights and bustling chaos of Pekking City, across the vast lands of the Eastern Continent, the Celestial Palace of Raoshen stood as a mountain of gold and crimson marble.
The moon hung low above the imperial dome, spreading its glow over the white jade tiles that stretched endlessly into the horizon.
Unlike Pekking City and other modern places, this location was more rooted in traditionalism.
Inside the grand throne hall, twelve masked cultivators knelt before a throne.
Threads of spiritual qi circled around them as they emitted a strange ancient aura.
Each bore an insignia of an ancient order: the Keepers of Celestial Balance, guardians of forgotten prophecies.
Atop the throne sat Emperor Zhao Kang, ruler of the Raoshen Empire. His jet-black hair cascaded down his back like liquid silk, crowned by a golden diadem etched with dragon scales.
His cold eyes gleamed beneath the glow of hovering spirit lanterns. The scent of sandalwood filled the air.
The lead robed figure rose, bowing low. "Your Majesty… the stars have shifted. The seals tremble. The Scourge of the Realms—he who defied the Jade Emperor himself—walks again."
A murmur rippled through the hall.
Another spoke in a raspy tone. "The same immortal whose debauchery shook heavens, who impregnated the daughter of the Jade Emperor and brought the wrath of the celestial clans upon the mortal plane—Fang Chen, the Immortal Pervert."
The guards flinched at the name. Even the lanterns flickered.
But Emperor Zhao Kang merely sighed while resting his chin on one hand. "So, the same tale again…" He leaned back lazily with his eyes half-lidded. "Every generation, some old men crawl from the mountains screaming about myths. My great great-grandfather, the one who supposedly sealed this 'Fang Chen,' has been dead for centuries."
The lead prophet's voice trembled with urgency. "My Emperor, the signs are true. The Void Seal has fractured. His essence—"
Zhao Kang waved dismissively. "Essence? Spirit? Nonsense. There are no true immortals. The era of cultivation ended long ago."
His words hung cold in the hall.
"Even if this Fang Chen existed," Zhao Kang added, "he would be nothing more than dust now. So, take your fairy tales and go."
The twelve masked cultivators exchanged grave looks but bowed low once more. "We have done our duty by warning you. Should calamity descend, remember this night, Emperor of Raoshen."
As they vanished in trails of mist, the Emperor's expression hardened just briefly. He stared at the darkened ceiling and muttered to himself:
"Immortal or not… no one cheats the heavens forever."
After the robed figures left, the courtiers whispered among themselves, casting wary glances at the departing cultivators. The guards, although still on edge, relaxed slightly as the powerful presences withdrew.
Emperor Zhao Kang turned to his chief advisor, a shrewd man named Li Wei.
"What do you make of this, Li Wei?" the emperor questioned with a casual tone.
Li Wei stepped forward with a respectful demeanor. "Your Majesty, while the tales of Fang Chen are indeed ancient, there is often a kernel of truth in such legends. It may be prudent to keep a discreet watch for any unusual occurrences."
The emperor nodded thoughtfully. "Very well. Have our most trusted agents keep an ear to the ground. Should there be any news of such, inform me immediately."
Li Wei bowed. "As you command, Your Majesty."
As the throne room returned to its usual state of order, Emperor Zhao Kang's thoughts lingered on the warning.
He dismissed it outwardly, but the seed of doubt had been planted. The world had changed greatly since the days of his ancestors, but the shadows of the past often had a way of creeping into the present.
Outside the palace, the robed cultivators regrouped in the courtyard. The leader's tiger mask gleamed in the moonlight as he turned to his companions. "The emperor does not heed our warning. We must prepare for the worst."
The phoenix-masked cultivator nodded. "Agreed. If Fang Chen has truly been freed, we must be ready to act... Once there is any news, we will take matters into our own hands and deal with him."
...
...
The moonlight filtered gently through the half-open blinds, casting striped shadows across the dimly lit room.
Fang Chen sat cross-legged on the floor of Huan Chen's cramped apartment which was cluttered with textbooks, clothes, and a single blinking router light that flickered like a restless spirit.
The immortal exhaled slowly, clad in loose T-shirt and shorts that read Pekking High Athletics, yet the aura surrounding him still carried a weight that made the very air tremble.
He placed his fingers together, forming an ancient mudra. His long lashes lowered.
A soft whir filled the room as the wind began to move.
The curtains fluttered, the dust on the shelves trembled, and faint motes of light began to converge toward him.
This was true qi and it shocked Huan Chen greatly that Fang Chen was able to manipulate it without any system.
Within moments, the ancient rhythm of cultivation returned to his veins.
A smirk appeared on his face.
"Yes… at this pace, I should reclaim my former strength in one or two months. The heavens will once again tremble beneath my—"
"You're doing that again, aren't you?" Huan Chen's voice cut through his meditation like a buzzing mosquito.
Fang Chen's eyes twitched open. "Doing what?"
"That weird breathing thing! You've been sitting there for an hour! When are you going to give me my body back?"