Chapter 2

  Hazelton

  In another reality, there was a city that once stood as a beacon of hope that dazzled the world.

  Dreamers flocked here, eager for a chance to turn their ambitions into reality. Souls yearned for freedom, carving out their destinies, crafting miracles, and staking claims to their own piece of legacy. This city, once a jewel and a symbol of hope, was now literally shrouded in dark storm clouds—yet not a drop of rain had fallen. All that remained was a heavy, suffocating air, like an invisible hand closing around the city’s throat, stifling any attempt to lift one’s head for a moment of respite.

  Suddenly, a roll of thunder cracked outside the tall windows of a massive skyscraper, nearly drowning out the knock at the door.

  “Come in.”

  A scarred hand pushed open the door, revealing a thin man. He wore a loose T-shirt, cheap black-rimmed glasses perched on his nose, his presence clashed with the elegant surroundings of the room.

  Needless to say, this man didn’t belong here. Yet today, he was the “guest of honor” that Yong-Feng had personally invited.

  “Ah, Jing-Xuan, there you are! Come in, have a seat!” Yong-Feng called out, waving his guest over. With his back to the floor-to-ceiling windows, Yan Yong-Feng exuded authority in his immaculate suit.

  Despite the chasm between the two men in both status and appearance, Yan Yong-Feng raised his glass with a smile and extended it to Li Jing-Xuan.

  “Relax, I didn’t invite you here to discuss anything too serious. I just wanted to have a friendly chat, that’s all.”

  Just a chat?

  And when had they ever been friends?

  Li Jing-Xuan forced a small smile and accepted the glass. In this city, where time meant power, wealth, and survival, who had the luxury to waste a second on someone deemed unworthy? No, such was not the nature of one among the city’s elite.

  Yan Yong-Feng, one of the city’s most influential angel investors, had a Midas touch that could turn ventures into gold. With pitch-black hair and penetrating eyes, he was known as the “Chevalier Licorne,” the Unicorn Knight. His words could change the course of a person’s fate. It was almost unfathomable to think that Yan Yong-Feng would reach out to a simple programmer, a complete nobody like Li Jing-Xuan.

  Unless...

  Ding––

  The sound of their crystal glasses clinking resonated, crisp and clear.

  Ever since he received the call from Yong-Feng, Jing-Xuan had speculated on the Unicorn Knight’s intentions, even though he had planned to catch Yong-Feng’s attention when proposing solutions to the top AI experts’ questions at the recent Sci-Tech Forum.

  “Would you like a game of chess?” Yong-Feng said, moving toward the marble chessboard by the window and giving the white pawn a gentle push. “They say life is much like a game of chess. True players can tell when opportunity knocks. The daring make their moves and turn dreams into reality, while others hesitate, letting their moment pass and watching as someone else claims victory.”

  Ah yes, the glory of seizing opportunities.

  But then, there was always the danger in dancing with the devil.

  Jing-Xuan downed his wine in one swift motion and placed a piece on the board, a slight smile forming. “Opportunities are like moves in chess. They can lead to a breakthrough just as easily as they can become a misstep, depending on how far ahead you can see. I’m sure you understand that well, Mr. Yan.”

  Yong-Feng’s brows lifted, a flicker of admiration crossing his expression. Most who stepped into this office were dreamers, desperate and hungry for investment. But someone who could meet “opportunity” with a steady hand and place a piece on the board without flinching? Rare indeed.

  But this game was just beginning.

  “I know you’ve been unwilling to use your AI research for speculative ventures, Jing-Xuan,” Yong-Feng went back to his desk, sliding a document across the polished mahogany surface, “so I prepared a proposal that aligns with your principles.”

  Li Jing-Xuan’s eyes widened in surprise.

  As a developer, he understood the significance of funding for R&D projects. It was the only reason he had agreed to this meeting, after all. However, he hadn’t expected Yan Yong-Feng to anticipate his hesitation and craft a proposal tailored to it.

  Flipping through the document, Li Jing-Xuan’s thoughts raced.

  Though he kept it well hidden, he was indeed desperate for funding. This decision went beyond just accepting an investment; it would impact Project Primrose and, ultimately, his entire future.

  “Mr. Yan, your offer is indeed enticing,” Jing-Xuan said, carefully closing the document, “but every opportunity comes with risks. This is especially true with the nature of Project Primrose.”

  The two men’s eyes met, and it was clear that this “chat” had turned into a battle of wits and foresight.

  In the end, Jing-Xuan promised a response in three days and left the room with the proposal in hand.

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  Once the door clicked shut, silence settled over the luxurious office. Alone at last, Yong-Feng’s composed smile faded as he paced in front of the wide windows, a glint of ambition sparkling in his eyes as Jing-Xuan’s words echoed in his mind.

  Everything in this room—from the German-crafted desk, to the Italian leather chair, to the panoramic view of the city—spoke of achievements and status, each acquired through memorable gambits. Yet, at the end of the day, none of these compared to the thrill of matching wits with an equal.

  “And it’s especially satisfying when the opponent is already ensnared in the game, still believing that they are standing on even ground.” Yong-Feng slowly sipped his wine, savoring every drop of this intriguing encounter.

  While the stakes of the “game” in Yong-Feng’s office played out with careful words and hidden motives, in another realm, a far less strategic struggle unfolded.

  Zi-Cheng stumbled forward under the harsh glare of an endless blue sky, each step a reminder of how unprepared he was for this world. The scent of the grassland, fresh and unrelenting, filled his lungs, but did little to offset the fatigue dragging down his body. For someone who had spent most of his life indoors, immersed in virtual quests and digital battles, walking for hours on rough terrain was its own kind of punishment.

  Behind him, Chris’s wooden cart creaked as it rolled along, the man pushing it at an annoyingly steady pace.

  “Young master, you look terrible,” Chris smiled, with a teasing lilt in his voice matched by a glimmer of sympathy.

  Zi-Cheng glanced at Chris with frustration, who, despite dragging a loaded cart, was moving faster than him. Panting, Zi-Cheng found himself too drained to reply, the complaints on the tip of his tongue swallowed by exhaustion.

  (Since when did walking become a boss-level challenge?)

  The beautiful scenery stretched out around him, vibrant and unyielding. Yet, even the brightest landscape felt like an enemy when each step was a battle against his failing stamina.

  In any typical isekai story, the protagonist would show up with unrivaled power, saving damsels in distress and recruiting beautiful women as loyal companions by the second chapter. So why was he, the supposed hero, trudging behind a rugged, muscular man, drenched in sweat and barely holding on?

  “Damn it… I got thrown into another world already… couldn’t I at least… get some sort of perks…?” Zi-Cheng muttered between labored breaths.

  “What was that?” Chris glanced back, raising an eyebrow.

  “Nothing… Just talking to myself…. I’m not used to walking… this far,” Zi-Cheng admitted, the weight of exhaustion pressing down on him.

  Chris let out a hearty laugh, the sound carrying over the open plains. From the start, he could tell Zi-Cheng wasn’t exactly the picture of physical strength.

  “Alright, young master! Climb onboard and take a breather.”

  Zi-Cheng stopped in his tracks, staring at Chris's broad back. The offer was so casual, so effortless, yet it stirred a whirlwind of hesitation in his mind.

  Could this man be trusted?

  Chris had been nothing but helpful so far, but wasn't that exactly how betrayal worked? Ming-Wei had seemed trustworthy once too, a partner who shared his dreams, only to rip everything away when the moment was right.

  And yet... Chris wasn't Ming-Wei.

  (This is a different world, and he could have left me back there but he didn't....)

  Realizing he was spared from a fate of wandering aimlessly until exhaustion or hunger claimed him, Zi-Cheng let out a soft sigh, "I'm not some pampered noble!"

  Rejecting the man outright wouldn't do him any favors, and honestly, he wasn't in a position to be picky. Besides, there was a genuine warmth in Chris's voice, even behind the bluntness, that stirred an almost forgotten sense of comfort.

  "This world, Arina, is an unforgiving place," Chris explained, "there are demons and wild beasts everywhere. Ordinary folk won't go far from the city gates unless they have a death wish. And for someone like you, young master, survival out here is a long shot at best."

  “But lucky for you, the only thing you ran into was a harmless mushroom monster!” Chris burst into laughter again, pausing only when he noticed Zi-Cheng’s legs shaking like a newborn fawn.

  With cheeks flushed red from embarrassment, Zi-Cheng reluctantly climbed into the wooden cart, sinking into the pile of mushrooms, resting his aching body.

  (So much for being a brave hero destined to save the world. What kind of hero needs to hitch a ride just to keep moving?)

  As he compared himself to the isekai novels he had read as a teenager, the cart gave a small jolt as it started to move forward.

  “I’ll tell you this, young master,” Chris said, a knowing gleam in his eyes. “Even if you’re from a noble house, you can’t survive in the arena just by relying on your family’s battle techniques.”

  (Battle techniques? What is that supposed to mean?)

  Zi-Cheng’s curiosity flared, but decided to play along instead of asking outright.

  “I don’t get it. Why would nobles risk their necks competing in the arena?”

  “To sharpen their bloodline inheritance, of course!” Chris replied, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world, “Families with rare combat skills are destined to become the kingdom’s pillars. Or did you think the title ‘noble’ was just for show?”

  Chris’s explanation deepened Zi-Cheng’s confusion, but there was something familiar about it. The connection between rare combat skills and social status reminded him of online games, where top-ranked players were often members of guilds decked out with rare abilities and best gear. Yet, as he mulled it over, the idea of power and social status being concentrated in the hands of a select few felt different in reality. Was such a system really something to admire and uphold with pride?

  “In the Kingdom of Izanish, we won glory and received blessings through prowess in the arena.” Chris said, lifting his chin with pride.

  Zi-Cheng had heard words like “glory” and “blessings” countless times in games, but they never sat well with him. Seeing Chris’s earnest expression made him realize that, here, those words were more than just phrases – they were a deeply held beliefs. For Chris and the people of this kingdom, they were ideals to live by, strive for, and hold with pride.

  (So this the difference in values?)

  Zi-Cheng pondered, a pang of uncertainty tugging at him. As an outsider, should he blend in and adapt their ways, or should he hold onto his own beliefs?

  (Perhaps it’s best to keep my real thoughts to myself... at least until I understand more about this Kingdom of Izanish.)

  While Zi-Cheng was lost in thought, Chris continued, “You know, noble children from well-off families started training at the Academy of Valor from a young age. They sharpened their skills and learned strategy until they were arena-ready. We don’t see many nobles like you, young master.”

  Zi-Cheng sensed a hint of unease at Chris’s words, and sighed before deciding to clear the air once and for all.

  “Look, please stop calling me ‘young master’. Like I said, I’m not from a noble family. Just call me Zi-Cheng”.

  “Zi-Cheng?” Chris repeated, scratching his head. "Well, I might have only been to a city or two beyond Hazelton, but your name, young master, is something I've never come across in my life."

  Chris's tone was light, but the flicker of curiosity in his gaze was impossible to miss. His eyes lingered a beat longer than Zi-Cheng was comfortable with, and while Zi-Cheng had been careful with keeping his thoughts to himself, one slip-up might be all it took to undo everything had built so far.