Chapter Sixty-Eight: The Clown

Silver City.

After riding in Xie Bo’s car for over three hours, Fan Bei finally saw, far off on the horizon, a massive silver arc gleaming in the distance.

It was like a rainbow after the rain, spanning the horizon, but instead of seven colors, it shone a pure, silvery white.

The city was true to its name.

As they drew closer, the road improved markedly, and both vehicles and pedestrians became more numerous. On either side of the highway, fields freshly harvested of wheat stretched out, where many farmers toiled, sowing corn. Their faces were expressionless, but their hands and feet moved with practiced efficiency.

The people on the road wore no armor; most rode bicycles, some rode motorcycles, and only a rare few drove cars, passing others with an air of arrogance.

When the large jeep approached, oncoming vehicles and pedestrians moved aside, making space at the center of the road. Yet Xie Bo did not take the central lane, maintaining his course and gradually reducing his speed.

They entered the city from the north, where a broad gate stood, guarded by a team on duty.

The city walls formed a hemispherical curve, riddled with numerous openings—defensive positions, Fan Bei guessed.

The gatekeepers, seeing the jeep arrive, all bowed deeply.

Fan Bei witnessed firsthand the authority and status Xie Bo wielded in this city. Perhaps that was one of the reasons Xie Bo had insisted on bringing him personally.

The car slowed to a crawl, moving at a gentle pace between twenty and forty kilometers per hour as they entered the city.

With pride swelling in his voice, Xie Bo began to introduce the city:

“This city was personally designed and overseen by our chief eight years ago. Every piece of land is used to its fullest potential. The city is divided into four concentric rings.”

“The outermost is the Commoners’ District, inside that is the Bronze District, then the Silver District, and at the very center, the Golden District. The total population exceeds one and a half million—undoubtedly the greatest city for a thousand miles around.”

“Eight main avenues divide the rings into sixteen sectors…”

As Fan Bei listened, the car proceeded along the main road. In the distance, another checkpoint and a tall, silvery wall appeared.

The road itself was a seamless expanse of silver-white, spotlessly clean—there wasn’t even a scrap of paper in sight.

Shops lined both sides, with orderly yet crowded residential quarters behind—block upon block, packed tightly together, with barely any space in between.

This must be the Commoners’ District, he thought.

Curious, he watched as people hurried through the crowded neighborhoods. Many of their faces were pale and pinched, not quite the vision one would expect of a grand city’s populace, yet on these immaculate streets, there were no beggars or vagrants to be seen.

Yet such sights were all too common in other large cities.

“We have the fairest and strictest system of management here,” Xie Bo explained. “Only those who work diligently have the chance to move up, to eat their fill and dress well. The thin and sickly ones—those are the lazy cheats.”

Fan Bei nodded and complimented, “It seems there’s not a single beggar or homeless person in your city—truly a testament to your governance…”

But Xie Bo gave him a strange look and slowly replied, “Those people are all employed as servants—the very kind you hire with a contract.”

Fan Bei’s expression changed as he realized the truth—this was not sound governance, but forced labor.

As they spoke, the car reached the checkpoint, where the guards bowed and waved them through without question.

Beyond lay the Bronze District.

Here, the people looked far healthier, their clothes clean, their movements dignified.

Small plots of green dotted the communities along the main road, with simple recreational facilities scattered about.

Another checkpoint, another silver-white wall.

After passing through, the jeep crawled along at little more than a walking pace.

This was the Silver District.

The people here carried themselves with restrained pride, walking with measured steps, as if each held a respectable job.

The neighborhoods were truly luxurious, with ample green spaces, and preschools and clinics visible among the buildings.

At last, the jeep left the main road, turning onto a secondary street, and soon stopped before a seven-story building encircled by a red fence.

Xie Bo led the group—two people, a dog, and an iron sphere—into the building, assigning them each to one of three rooms.

“Mr. Fan, this is our Guest Pavilion. Depending on your VIP level with the Silver Chamber of Commerce, you receive different floors and amenities. Since you’re here to watch tomorrow’s tournament, we’re gifting you a year’s VIP membership. You’re currently Level 1, so you’ll stay on the first floor and enjoy all its facilities. When we deliver your welcome package, there will be details on how to upgrade your status.”

After this final explanation, he handed Fan Bei a ticket bearing the image of a grand arena, marked “Settlement No. 364, All-access, Mr. Fan Bei,” and at the bottom, the familiar seal of his contract guarantor.

The room Fan Bei received was lavish, rivaling a four-star hotel from his previous life, with a private bath, a living room, and a spacious bedroom.

Shortly after Xie Bo departed, someone knocked at his door.

Fan Bei opened it to find a beautiful attendant, bearing a finely wrapped box and a delicate card, which she presented to him.

Thanking her, he opened the box to find a bottle of five-year-old “Silver” brand pure grain liquor—a truly generous welcome gift.

Glancing at the card, he saw that advancing from V1 to V2 required an annual trade volume of over 500,000 silver coins, V3 needed two million, and V4 came with further requirements.

Fan Bei wasn’t particularly interested, and soon brought Big White and the iron sphere into his room. As for He Xixi, she preferred to stay alone.

…

The next morning, August 10th, at eight o’clock, someone arrived to escort the guests of the Guest Pavilion to the duel.

The match was scheduled for ten o’clock in the grand arena, at the very heart of the Golden District.

As they set out, Fan Bei caught sight of a familiar face—Lang Sheng, who was chatting with a thin, small man.

Their eyes met; Lang Sheng nodded and smiled, then climbed into a car with the other man hurrying after him.

Fan Bei returned the greeting with a sincere smile, then turned to board his own vehicle.

He Xixi, cradling the sphere in one arm and leading Big White by a leash with the other, took a seat in the back.

This was not home, after all; others didn’t know Big White’s intelligence, so he still needed to be leashed.

…

Lang Sheng lounged in the car, reclining against the seat with a sense of ease.

Fate truly was a marvelous thing, he mused. That young man named Fan Bei had once placed the system in his very hands, yet the boy remained utterly oblivious.

From the gratitude in Fan Bei’s smile, Lang Sheng could almost feel his thanks—not only for selling him a precious cultivation manual, but also for guiding him once afterward.

The young man’s talent was indeed impressive: in just one month of training, he had reached the Bronze tier. It was a pity he was a bit old—his face suggested he was already in his twenties.

In the past, encountering such a promising talent would have filled him with jealousy and the urge to undermine him.

But now, it no longer mattered.

What was talent compared to possessing the system?

He himself was not far from ascending to the Silver tier. After the tournament, once the price of spiritual cores dropped, he would invest heavily and break through.

Such was fate: when opportunity comes, if you are unprepared, it will never, ever give you a second chance.

He had seized it; the other had lost it forever.

The duel in two hours’ time was nothing but a warm-up, a sideshow before the true performance. There was only one real protagonist—himself.