The morning sun spilled like molten gold across the sprawling city of Pekking, painting the skyscrapers with warmth and light. Students from Pekking High swarmed around the buses with their chatter filling the air as teachers yelled for order.
Huan Chen stood at the back of the crowd with hands in his pockets, trying to look as inconspicuous as possible. Inside him, however, Fang Chen was already complaining after agreeing to let him have his four hours of control earlier than usual.
> "You mortals and your noisy wagons. I once rode a phoenix chariot pulled by dragons, and now I am trapped in this… metal coffin with wheels."
Huan Chen sighed mentally.
"It's called a bus, old man. And you're not helping."
> "Bah, nonsense. The seats are too close together. No leg room. And that girl three seats ahead—why is she looking this way? Did my charm leak out again?"
"She's looking because you keep talking out loud!"
Half the bus had already turned to stare as Huan Chen sat by the window, muttering to himself with an annoyingly confident grin. Mei Lin, seated in front, turned slightly, cheeks flushed as she caught his smirk.
"Class monitor," Fang Chen's smooth voice slipped out, "you shouldn't stare so boldly. It might make your boyfriend jealous again."
Mei Lin's ears went red, and she snapped her head away while her friend giggled beside her.
Liu Tao clenched his fists from across the aisle, glaring daggers. "This bastard…"
The trip took nearly two hours before the bus pulled into a remote district of Pekking City. The view shifted from skyscrapers and highways to cobblestone streets, rustic houses with curved tiled roofs, and the faint scent of incense and roasted chestnuts drifting in the air.
And there it stood... The Pekking Ancient Museum.
The massive structure cast a giant shadow over the quiet district like an ancient fortress. Its walls were carved in traditional style, each etching depicting mythical beasts and heroes. Massive red pillars held up a jade-tiled roof that gleamed in the sunlight. The air itself seemed heavier here, filled with the whispers of history.
"Whoa…" a student breathed out.
Even Fang Chen went quiet for a moment, staring through Huan Chen's eyes.
> "Pathetic… but admirable. To think humans still try to preserve the echoes of a forgotten age."
Inside, the museum's halls stretched vast and silent, lined with glass displays.
Ancient weapons could be spotted behind them ranging from halberds to swords to bows... each said to have belonged to heroes of old. Sculptures of cultivators mid-battle filled the corridors.
Ms. Rong Xinyi led the way in a tight white blouse and long black skirt that hugged her figure, speaking with her usual graceful authority about the significance of each artifact.
"…this spear is said to have been used by General Longxu during the first demon incursion—"
"That's wrong," Fang Chen's voice slipped out suddenly through Huan Chen. "Longxu never used a spear. He preferred a three-pointed blade forged from northern star steel. This one's a fake — you can tell from the unbalanced weight near the hilt."
The entire group turned to stare.
Ms. Rong blinked with her brow twitching in irritation. "Excuse me, Mr. Huan Chen, are you suggesting that the museum's official historians are mistaken?"
Fang Chen smiled faintly, tilting his head. "Not suggesting, Miss Rong. I'm telling you."
A few students gasped. Mei Lin covered her mouth as her eyes widened. Even Liu Tao looked stunned.
Ms. Rong narrowed her eyes. "And how would you possibly know that?"
"Let's just say…" Fang Chen's tone dropped low with a playful smirk appearing on his face "…I was there."
The class erupted in laughter, assuming it was one of his usual absurd jokes. But Ms. Rong couldn't shake the strange chill that crept up her spine when he said it.
> "Hey old man! What's the point of letting me take control now if you're gonna keep snatching it away!" Huan Chen complained internally.
"I could not stand by and let history be edited."
As they moved deeper into the museum, Fang Chen continued pointing out minor flaws, noting which relics were real and which were fabricated restorations.
By the time they reached the center hall, even the tour guide avoided eye contact with him.
Then Fang Chen froze.
Behind a glass case rested a small ornamental shard. It looked like a half moon jade medallion. Unlike the others, this one emitted a faint spiritual energy.
"That's mine," Fang Chen murmured. "… How did it end up here?"
He moved toward it instinctively.
"Hey—hey! Don't touch that!" the curator called as Fang Chen's hand neared the glass.
This wasn't just a relic.
It was the Fragment of the Heavenly Seal, one of the medallions he had crafted himself nearly thirty thousand years ago to seal away his own vaults across the realms.
He stepped closer, ignoring the murmuring students. His reflection stared back at him through the glass.
Fang Chen lifted a hand, fingers brushing against the glass. The lights above flickered for a moment as the shard responded by glowing faintly gold, as if recognizing its master.
"Hey!" the curator snapped while hurrying over with two museum guards.
Fang Chen didn't move. His expression didn't even twitch.
"Boy," one of the guards barked, "step away from the display!"
Fang Chen turned his head slightly with a calm look that made every hair on their bodies rise. "Step away?" he repeated softly. "From my possession?"
The curator frowned. "Your possession? Young man, that artifact is thousands of years old—"
"Twenty-three thousand, six hundred and twenty years," Fang Chen corrected smoothly. "And forged by my own hands."
They all stared blankly at him.
Ms. Rong, standing nearby with the other students, pinched the bridge of her nose. "Huan Chen, for the last time, stop making jokes in the middle of—"
But then the jade shard flared again, glowing with faint golden lines as if responding to his presence. The curator froze mid-sentence as his eyes widened like saucers.
Fang Chen smiled faintly. "You see? It still remembers its master."
He leaned slightly closer to the case and murmured. "When the excursion ends, I'll be taking this with me. No one will stop me."
Gasps rippled through the students.
"Is he insane?" one whispered.
"Probably," another muttered.
The curator turned pale. "S-security! Get this boy out—"
But before anyone could move, Fang Chen's eyes emitted an ancient light and for a heartbeat, everyone around him felt a suffocating, primordial presence.
They all paused in place unable to move briefly...
Then it vanished.
He straightened, smiling like nothing had happened. "Relax," he said casually with his hands slipping into his pockets. "I'll collect it later. I always retrieve what's mine."
The curator swallowed, unable to explain why his legs felt weak.
---
After hours of walking through the grand halls, the students were allowed to explore the nearby traditional market during their break.
It was like stepping back in time.
There were narrow lanes filled with paper lanterns, merchants calling out prices, and rows of wooden stalls selling antiques, charms, and snacks.
Fang Chen wandered lazily through the market, ignoring the attention he drew from local girls whispering and giggling nearby.
Then he noticed a small crowd. Apparently, a few of his female classmates arguing with an old merchant.
"Please, we already paid you! You said the charm would cost fifty yuan!" one of them cried.
The man sneered. "I said fifty per blessing. You bought five!"
Before they could argue further, Fang Chen stepped forward. "You're a bold one, old man. Daring to scam ladies right in front of me."
The merchant scoffed. "Who the hell are you?"