Chapter 5 – The Fifth Ray of Light

Yu Mingyang, a third-generation rich kid born with a silver spoon, grew up coddled in luxury, his every whim catered to by his doting family.

He drank the finest of liquors, dined on exotic delicacies, was chauffeured to and from school, and spent his vacations cruising the seas. From hot air ballooning in his early years, to golfing in childhood, to attending horse races in his teens. His life was nothing short of vibrant and flavorful.

With his generosity, good looks, and excellent grades, he was surrounded by a host of fair-weather friends, all charmed by his aura. A textbook definition of a life winner and a perfect romance novel protagonist—provided he didn’t mess it up, he was a chosen one indeed.

But alas, he was cursed with folly.

Folly enough to forsake the role of a pampered pet bird to live as a wild chicken. He could still recall his rebellious teenage phase, which was truly a cesspool of ideas.

“Mom, Dad, I’m sick of this life that has nothing but money!”

“I want to redefine myself, see my own worth and experience ordinary life! I want to know how capable I am without relying on my family background!”

Perhaps it was his strong conviction that even spiked the blood pressure of the heavens, for after he transferred from an international high school to a top university, he met a terrifyingly competitive classmate.

The guy’s name was “Si Nuocheng,” good at everything and top in looks.

From brains to beauty, strength to demeanor, ability to luck, Si Nuocheng outclassed him in every way. Even in trash-talking, Si Nuocheng could leave him speechless without using a single swear word.

For instance, Yu Mingyang tried to salvage some pride, “I might not have your grades, but I have more friends than you.”

Si Nuocheng swiftly solved the problems, quipped, “Loneliness is the invincible’s companion.”

Yu Mingyang: …

Or when Yu Mingyang continued, “You may be handsome, but girls confess to me more often.”

Si Nuocheng, nonchalantly, retorted, “Sure, after they hit a wall with me, they rebound to you.”

Yu Mingyang: …

Or when Yu Mingyang made a desperate attempt, “When I was twelve, my dad gave me a horse worth millions. I loved galloping it through the ‘Elisa’ racetrack—so free and stylish.”

Si Nuocheng, ever so calmly, replied, “That racetrack belongs to my family.”

Yu Mingyang: …

“Is that even something a human would say?”

“Are you human?”

From then on, under Si Nuocheng’s relentless superiority, Yu Mingyang’s days felt so meaningless that even money lost its value.

As the saying goes, “If you can’t beat them, join them.”

Yu Mingyang redefined his loser status, found his value as the top lackey under Boss Si, and truly experienced the bittersweetness of a simple life.

Honestly, without his background, he was nothing; with his background, he wasn’t even a person.

The once life-winner was now relegated from a rich young master to a “beggar sect’s third bag disciple,” sipping bubble tea, munching on pancakes, taking buses and tricycles, living a rougher but steadier life.

So steady that his adult hobbies included “cost-effective” SLR photography, and when in trouble, he didn’t call his parents but his boss.

So steady that when Si Nuocheng called him to bring an umbrella, he could detect the rare competitive tone in his voice.

Competitive spirit?

Heh, he knew this game.

Back when he wanted to compete with Si, he had the same desire to win. So, was this an encounter with a rival, or was there a hint of being outdone?

Damn it! I’m bringing an umbrella to watch the show! Wait for me!

…

In the natural world of survival of the fittest, when two equally formidable lions appear on the savannah, a natural sense of rivalry exists, leading them to fight until one yields.

In a society driven by material desires, when two top talents emerge in the same field, a strange magnetic field forms between them, either ending in struggle or a mutually beneficial alliance.

Si Nuocheng’s meeting with Ji Si was just like that.

A mere glance was enough to make the hair on his body stand up.

As if encountering a natural enemy, every cell in his body screamed discomfort. Yet, contrary to his rebellious nature, he didn’t retreat but advanced, narrowing his eyes and calmly observing the other.

A stranger dressed eccentrically, wearing a hood and holding a staff, slowly lifted his head like in a movie scene, revealing an incredibly handsome half-profile.

For a moment, the simplicity of the winter day and his white robe created an indescribable ancient charm.

However, despite the picturesque scene, the person was toxic. The white-robed man raised his hand and seriously said, “Let it rain.”

Si Nuocheng: …

Is he insane?

Si Nuocheng turned to leave.

The other man was about his height and seemed sturdy, holding a large staff. If he really started attacking bystanders, Si Nuocheng wouldn’t stand a chance.

But no sooner than three seconds later, the sky unleashed a torrential downpour, drenching him completely before he could react.

As rain streamed down his hair, Si Nuocheng withdrew under a tree, wordlessly staring at the white-robed man. To say it rains and have it rain was either a bizarre coincidence or a case of being a real jinx.

The white-robed man seemed stunned for a moment, probably not expecting his words to become reality. He looked rather “guilty” as he met Si Nuocheng’s gaze across the space before sheepishly taking shelter under another tree.

The heavy rain continued unabated, the tree was small, the man was tall.

Through the thick curtain of rain, two drenched figures were trapped in a cramped setting, phoenix eyes staring into phoenix eyes, silent and still.

Ji Si and Si Nuocheng quietly sized each other up, first genuinely remarking, “Nice skin,” then instinctively comparing height and build, and finally, by mutual unspoken agreement, they averted their gazes, indicating no interference or need for conversation.

One, a gentle and handsome High Priest with a villain’s script but seasoned cunning.

The other, bursting with vigor, still with an edge, carrying the protagonist’s aura yet weathered by the world’s vicissitudes.

Just as in a classroom, the last and second-to-last might become friends, while the top two are always rivals, Ji Si and Si Nuocheng were indeed a bit…

Incompatible in aura.

The rain poured fiercely, the wind blustered strongly. Water accumulated on the leaves poured down, drenching them simultaneously.

Ji Si tugged his hood to block the rain, his handsome face clean and fresh. He glanced at Si, who was dripping wet, wondering when the man would give in and rush into the rain to leave.

Unbeknownst to him, due to their clashing auras, his casual glance was interpreted by Si Nuocheng as “I have a hood, and you don’t.”

Si Nuocheng: …

Strategic retreat.

Leaning against the tree trunk, legs crossed, Si Nuocheng exuded a suave demeanor. He reached into his jacket, pulled out his wallet, and fanned out a stack of crisp green dollars over his head as if to sigh, “I don’t have a hood, I can only use money to block the rain.”

Ji Si: …

Meeting an inexplicable person in an inexplicable world, was this even humanly possible?

The fire outside was still fierce, probably burning something that couldn’t be extinguished with water. The invisible malevolent spirits were still desperately struggling. Ji Si looked up at the murky sky, feeling that if they waited any longer, there might be wrongful deaths.

Not caring whether there was someone across from him, Ji Si raised his hand again, “Let it rain.”

Si Nuocheng: …

Once isn’t enough, twice then—do you think you’re the Dragon King? If it works again, I’ll call you—

Miraculously, the rain indeed intensified.

Large raindrops pattered on Si Nuocheng’s face, even as he retreated to the densest part of the tree, he couldn’t escape becoming a drowned rat. In contrast, Ji Si, whose robe seemed waterproof, remained much cleaner.

Si Nuocheng: … I’ll just call you a jinx.

Perhaps it was his youth, influenced by Ji Si’s aura or his own mood, that suddenly ignited a youthful desire to win.

Never had he been outdone in any setting. Without thinking, he mimicked Ji Si’s words and retorted, “Umbrella, come.”

Silence, the silence of you and me taking shelter from the rain.

Si Nuocheng wasn’t the slightest bit embarrassed, merely calmly took out his phone and dialed for help, “Bring me an umbrella.”

If it’s about chasing thrills, then let’s go all out. In terms of competition, he was second to none.

Ji Si: …

The High Priest said nothing, quietly standing under the tree until the fire began to die down. Then he looked towards the park path where a young man was running with an umbrella, his face aglow, eager to watch a drama unfold.

Ha, the rain stopped!

With a light tap of his staff on the ground, the clouds dispersed, and the rain ceased.

At that moment, a penniless, carless, umbrellaless High Priest turned and walked away, not even glancing back.

What does it matter if you have someone to bring you an umbrella? I, who commands the weather, am the real man.

“Huff, huff, huff… the umbrella! The umbrella is here!” Yu Mingyang ran up to Si Nuocheng, looking around.

“Hey, I brought two umbrellas, where’s that guy you were comparing with? Introduce me, let’s be friends!”

“Friends?” Si Nuocheng came to his senses and wrung out a handful of water. “Having you as a frustrating teammate is enough; another one?”

Yu Mingyang: Frustrating?

Whoa, so you have your days too!

I’m definitely making this person my friend!”

…

Ji Si walked across half the city and found an internet cafe still open at midnight named “Stopping by.”

Two yuan an hour, a bottle of cola included for an overnight stay, and an extra ten yuan for a private booth. Ji Si took out his wet, crumpled banknotes, the rain having added insult to injury in his already modest life.

Luckily, the owner didn’t mind. He took the money and offered Ji Si his first dose of human kindness on Earth, “You’re so handsome, yet you still have to fend for yourself?”

“It seems finding a wife is really tough, not being a mother’s boy for so long isn’t a failure.” The owner handed him a pack of napkins. “Here, take these, on the house, we clicked.”

Ji Si: …

The High Priest exhaled a breath of stale air and stepped into the small booth, about three square meters, considerably devoid of any cameras, just a computer, a trash can, and a hook.

He sat down, fiddled with the computer, and first confirmed the date of his arrival.

December 12, 2221… Half a month until the frequently mentioned cataclysmic year of 2222.

He might witness the destruction of a planet or the emergence of a new world. Whether fate can be changed depends on whether people are willing.

Human collective karma…

He would offer his hand; whether they grasped it was up to them.

For a moment, the High Priest’s eyes shimmered as he pulled out a divination turtle shell from his sleeve and casually tossed it. The shell spun in the air, weaving the tracks of fate, revealing a glimpse of destiny.

It landed in Ji Si’s hand, dark with a hint of crimson.

Black for water, red for blood disaster, in the South…

Ji Si carefully sensed, then pulled up a world map for confirmation. Soon, he pinpointed the time, place, and event.

Five seconds for divination, three hours for surfing the net. Ji Si spent the whole night understanding this century’s popular websites, choosing the most frequented and easily spread platform, Weibo.

He opened a hot celebrity news article, pondered his words, and typed like a marketer in the comment section, “On December 20th, the earth’s depths will open, monsters will awaken seeking food, fishing boats south of Zhongzhou please do not set sail.”

And he must make a trip to the incident site. He believed that once he strangled the monster and tossed its corpse onto the beach, some astute individuals would sense the premonition of a storm.

Click to post.

[Sorry, you are not a Weibo user, please enter your phone number to register.]

Ji Si: …

The impoverished High Priest had neither a phone nor a number. This smartphone-dominated world was so cold, only the napkins on the desk still held some warmth.

So, the question was, could he make it on foot to the southern coast in eight days using his bitter experience as a guide from western Sichuan…

Not by flying, as flying there might bring other troubles.

Author’s Note:

PS: Si Nuocheng, lowering the window of his million-dollar car, “What, no car?”

Ji Si, smiling, “Only those who can’t fly drive.”

Si Nuocheng, in his ten-million suit boarding his private jet, “You think I can’t fly?”

Ji Si: …