Chen Nian and Shavri headed back to the private room together. 

What was supposed to be a flirty encounter with Chen Nian ended up with Shavri being teased instead, leaving Antonio completely honest. By the end of the meal, the three of them finished eating and prepared to go their separate ways. 

Shavri sat in the car, not saying a word. He didn’t want to talk about the issue with Antonio. After all, they had been friends for over a decade, going to school together, training together, and traveling together since childhood. Yet, in just one short morning, an irreparable rift had formed between them. 

It seemed that this was true for any relationship; it took years of careful nurturing to maintain, but it could be destroyed by just a few small incidents. 

Meanwhile, the other instigator of the situation was sitting happily beside him, humming a little tune. 

Chen Nian was indeed very happy. He loved watching Antonio, who thought of himself as a hunter, being played around like a fool. Perhaps Antonio would never know the truth, remaining lost in the illusion created by his own imagination and Chen Nian’s performance. Or maybe one day the truth would be revealed, and he would show a shocked expression as if struck by lightning. 

Either way, just thinking about it was amusing. 

Chen Nian didn’t feel guilty at all. The fact that Antonio had the audacity to target him and betray his good friend proved he wasn’t a good person. Perhaps there had been many similar scandalous royal secrets in the upper echelons before, allowing Antonio to be so bold and unburdened in his advances. 

Only Shavri was growing increasingly agitated. 

He couldn’t be angry with Chen Nian; on the contrary, he had to thank him for helping him see his good friend’s true colors. But he just couldn’t get over this mental hurdle for now. After all, this was his best friend of over a decade! How could things have turned out like this? 

Chen Nian, of course, noticed that Shavri was in a bad mood. Anyone with eyes could see the storm clouds gathering on the Crown Prince’s face. He stopped humming to avoid annoying him further and, after a moment of silence, asked, “What are you doing this afternoon?” 

Shavri replied, “I have some important matters to attend to this afternoon and can’t accompany you. Can you find something to do on your own?” 

“Sure,” Chen Nian agreed. He was eighteen, not eight, and had long outgrown the need for someone to accompany him. Besides, Shavri being busy only meant he couldn’t leave the palace, but he could still invite friends over to hang out. 

“By the way, what schools have you attended before?” Shavri asked, recalling a question he had considered earlier. 

“Just the usual high school,” Chen Nian replied. 

Jiang Dai had often helped Chen Nian move, so he had changed schools frequently, never staying in one area for more than two or three years. As a result, he had never developed a sense of belonging to any school. 

For most people living in the Underground City, if they weren’t cut out for research, finishing high school and then going to work to realize their labor value was the norm. But now that Chen Nian was using the identity of a Prince Consort, even if he didn’t continue with the exchange in the future, he would still be a child of the Chen family and should have the opportunity for further education. 

“I’ll find you a private tutor to study some courses,” Shavri said. 

Upon hearing that he would have to go back to school, Chen Nian felt a bit reluctant. “Why?” 

Receiving an education and improving oneself was never a bad thing, but Chen Nian clearly still held onto the mindset he had developed in the Underground City, focusing only on the present. 

Shavri patiently explained, “Families with a bit of power will try to ensure their children receive as much education as possible. You are the child of Marshal Chen Wei. If it weren’t for the accident back then, you would definitely have continued your studies.” 

“But what ifs don’t matter? The reality is I’ve lived in the Underground City for eighteen years, graduated from high school, and can go to work now.” 

“Can you really go to work now?” 

Chen Nian blinked and said, “I came to the upper levels to enjoy life, didn’t I? Going back to school would be miserable.” 

Shavri replied, “What Chen Ci means isn’t just for you to eat, drink, and have fun. He wants you to reclaim your rightful identity.” 

“What about my brother? He’s not in the upper levels anymore and doesn’t have to go to school.” 

“Chen Ci has already completed his university courses. He’s receiving the best education at the White Tower.” 

Chen Nian was shocked. His brother, just like him, was only eighteen, yet he had already finished university? 

“Of course, I’m not forcing you. You can choose a direction you’re interested in for your studies. Otherwise, I often have things to do and can’t accompany you out. You might find it a bit boring in the palace.” 

Chen Nian thought for a moment and found his reasoning sound. 

“What major is my brother studying?” 

“Ocean Science.” 

In an era where the oceans had submerged the entire planet, Ocean Science was undoubtedly a top-tier major. 

Chen Nian stroked his chin, lost in thought. His brother not only completed the most prestigious university courses but also mastered various skills like flower arrangement, cooking, and playing instruments, along with a powerful mental strength capable of telekinesis. 

Compared to Chen Ci, he felt he was falling short, and continuing his studies seemed to be the right thing to do. 

He asked Shavri, “What do you think I’d be suited for?” 

Shavri replied, “That’s for you to decide. Think about what interests you the most, or perhaps find someone to introduce you to various subjects, and once you understand them, you can make a choice.” 

“Alright, I’ll first find out what subjects are available.” 

Seeing Chen Nian agree, Shavri secretly breathed a sigh of relief. Most of the time, Chen Nian was quite reasonable. “I’ll specifically find a private tutor for you. Do you have any special requests?” 

“An Alpha, preferably male, young, and a bit handsome,” Chen Nian said without hesitation. 

Shavri was taken aback and couldn’t help but remind him, “Bringing in a teacher is for learning, not for dating.” 

“I know! But if there’s a teacher who meets my aesthetic, I’ll feel better during class and learn faster.” 

Shavri: ……… 

Chen Nian’s reasoning was so strong and natural that, despite his reluctance, Shavri reluctantly agreed. 

Once back at the palace, the two went to their rooms for a nap. 

Chen Nian didn’t usually take a nap, but during his time at the White Tower, he had to follow the schedule provided by the smart butler and gradually started to take afternoon naps. 

Perhaps it was because he could see the sunlight in the upper levels, and noon was the hottest time, but Chen Nian found it very comfortable to take a nap. 

He woke up an hour and a half later, snuggled in bed watching videos, and finally got out of bed at three. 

Chen Nian waved his hand, and the curtain hidden in the wall immediately became transparent, restoring the room from the most sleep-friendly darkness. 

The afternoon sunlight streamed in through the floor-to-ceiling windows, bringing the gentlest warmth. 

It was just the right time for him to meet Gui Zhiqi, so Chen Nian changed his clothes and waited for her at the palace entrance. 

Yesterday, he had told the servant who took care of the big goose not to feed it anymore, and now he was going with Gui Zhiqi to let the goose know who the real master was. 

Meanwhile, in the bedroom just a wall away, 

Shavri had gotten up an hour earlier than Chen Nian. He only took a thirty-minute nap, which was the optimal length for a midday rest. 

The Alpha sat at his desk, surrounded by twelve virtual screens arranged in an arc. 

Lines of code were displayed on the virtual screens, the light reflecting off his goggles, illuminating Shavri’s face and making his expression appear even more serious. 

On the largest screen to his right, a massive database was displayed. 

This was something Shavri had to do every week—check the core program of Cinnabar. 

As a supercomputer, Cinnabar could self-repair and adjust, but it still required some manual maintenance. After all, even the most sophisticated computer could make mistakes, and at that moment, human judgment was crucial. 

Only royal family members had such privileges. 

Among the three Shavri siblings, aside from him, the two princesses had no interest in computers. Aphro and Yelena had both studied related subjects, but that didn’t change just because they were Alphas or Omegas. 

Unfortunately, one of his sisters would get flustered and throw a tantrum at the sight of code, while the other could only output a single line of “hello, world.” 

Aphro and Yelena had their own areas of interest. Rather than boring code, Aphro preferred aerospace engineering, while Yelena showed an astonishing talent for chemistry. 

The Emperor also felt it was a bit cruel to force them to study subjects they had no interest in. Fortunately, Shavri had been a genius in this field since childhood, allowing him to pass the burden onto his eldest son later on. 

Shavri spent two hours ensuring that the surface code was running without errors and that the database was generally normal. 

But this was just the first step of the check. 

Shavri opened the drawer and took out a special neural adapter. 

This silver-gray neural adapter looked unremarkable, but it used cutting-edge technology and required powerful mental strength to operate. There were only seven in the world. 

He only used it at this time every week. 

Shavri pressed a button on the side of the desk, and a seat fixed to the wall popped open. He sat down, and the restraints immediately extended to secure him tightly. 

Bound by the leather straps, Shavri couldn’t move at all. He took a deep breath and said, “Let’s begin.” 

The mechanical arm of the smart butler picked up the neural adapter and placed it on his head. 

He concentrated his mental strength, firmly protecting his thoughts and guarding his consciousness. 

The moment the neural adapter activated, everything froze. 

Time stopped flowing, sound waves ceased to vibrate, photons no longer transitioned, electrons halted their orbits, and electrical signals surged through his brain— 

The intense stimulation, strong enough to make one lose their mind, was buffered by layers of mental strength, and by the time it truly reached the level of consciousness, it was already gentle enough. 

His eyes lost their ability to see, but his “vision” quickly brightened again. This wasn’t what he truly saw, but rather a product of electrical signals directly acting on his optic nerves. 

It was as if a box had been opened, expanding from a cube into a plane, with six faces extending infinitely in all directions, creating a space that appeared beneath Shavri’s feet, leading to an endless end. 

Shavri took a few steps forward and wrote a line of code in the air. 

A “door” was created, appearing out of thin air before him, a layer thinner than paper. 

Shavri pushed it open and stepped inside. 

Water flowed from the ground to the sky, and in the reverse rain curtain, a faint red shimmer reflected a crystalline glow, resembling some precious mineral. 

Shavri stepped into the water, causing ripples to spread out, disturbing the data, which eventually transformed into particle effects, dispersing transparently and returning to the water’s surface. 

In the center of this calm data water, a faint figure sat. 

Shavri approached step by step, the rising rain soaking his legs, while his shoulders and hair remained dry. 

He didn’t feel cold or damp; he was merely a string of signals in this virtual space, his so-called body entirely formed by pixels. 

As he got closer, the figure became slightly clearer, though still faint, like a layer with adjusted transparency, drifting outside this world. 

Shavri stood three meters behind it and softly said, “Good day, Cinnabar.” 

The overly small figure finally moved, turning around. 

It looked like a little girl about three or four years old, with fine black hair just brushing her shoulders, dressed in a bright red robe. 

The clothes were a bit too big for her, with the cuffs and hem hanging down and sweeping into the water. 

On her forehead, there was a vertical eye painted in red cinnabar, quietly closed. 

—You’ve come earlier than I expected today. 

She pursed her lips, her voice echoing in Shavri’s consciousness, the tone unrecognizable. 

“I’m here to perform a program check for you.” 

She nodded slightly, still sitting in the air, but her whole being stretched out like toffee, elongating to the sides. 

Her head distorted, her eyes separated, her neck and shoulders widened, but those glass-like clear eyes still gazed faintly at Shavri before her. 

Finally, at a certain moment, her entire being was torn apart. 

But no blood flowed out; the girl split into two, violating the principle of conservation of mass, becoming two identical individuals. 

Such a bizarre scene was something Shavri had long since grown accustomed to. 

The girl before him was the core of Cinnabar. When Shavri was fifteen, his father had brought him here for the first time, and nearly ten years had passed since then. During this time, she had always appeared as a three or four-year-old girl, never changing. 

Cinnabar completed the backup of the core program, and one of the copies reached out a hand toward Shavri. 

Shavri took the small hand in his own. 

Countless lines of code surged into his mind like a tsunami in an instant. 

Shavri saw many things, yet it seemed he saw nothing at all. The only thing he could focus on was the tedious letters and symbols that made up the program. 

At a certain moment, the rain froze in mid-air, but soon, it resumed its reverse flow, bypassing Shavri and Cinnabar, rushing toward the endless false sky. 

The backup was being checked by Shavri, while the other Cinnabar remained seated in the center of this world. 

The sky was dark, the water surface was black, and in the middle, there was a blend of void white, ultimately merging into a delicate gray. 

The boundless sky and ocean surrounded her. 

In her red eyes, only the void was reflected. Aside from the endless calculations, all Cinnabar could do was communicate with the other beacons through the clouds in the sky, but she didn’t particularly like to talk. 

The beacon channel was filled with the banter of Blue Alunite and Star Leaf, while San Shui and Smoke Crystal occasionally chimed in. Cinnabar silently observed, and the last message from Moonlight was sent nine years ago. 

The prince who came here every week, along with his more experienced father, were among the few humans Cinnabar could interact with. 

Not knowing how much time had passed, suddenly, the closed red eye on Cinnabar’s forehead moved slightly. 

As if sensing something, she raised her head and looked through the rising rain curtain toward a place farther than the sky. 

—

Chen Ci turned to look back. 

Behind him was a vast expanse of gray ruins, buildings that had been abandoned for many years, weathered by wind and rain, long lost their original shapes. 

Chen Ci squinted slightly, not wanting to miss any corner. 

Fu Tianhe, sensing his vigilance, turned to look as well and quietly asked, “What’s wrong?” 

In the end, he found nothing. Chen Ci withdrew his gaze, shook his head, and continued walking in silence. 

This was their third day since arriving in the abandoned outskirts. 

For three days, they had explored everywhere, walking through the abandoned buildings and discovering quite a few unexpected things. 

Food and drinking water were running low, but Fu Tianhe’s backpack was getting fuller. 

Near the coast, there were many mechanical bodies left by primordial creatures, mostly from various devices left behind by human cities. They were all good stuff, and Fu Tianhe had happily dismantled them for parts. 

The area of the abandoned outskirts wasn’t particularly large, yet they hadn’t finished exploring it. 

The reason was simple: after the sun set, all areas on the outer wall of Cinnabar would be shrouded in endless darkness, making it unsuitable for travel. 

And the midday sun was too scorching; without the protection of the gel layer, ultraviolet rays could easily burn a person. 

So, they could only travel in the morning and afternoon, exploring a bit, which naturally slowed their pace. 

Fortunately, there was no urgent matter to attend to; it was a trip, so taking it slow was fine. 

The entire journey had been full of surprises since day one. Honestly, Fu Tianhe was shocked by Chen Ci’s actions that day. 

The usually aloof boy stood on a low wall, exuding a heroic demeanor as he faced the sea, pointing at the mirage in the wind and snow, declaring that they would go there. 

His voice was calm yet firm, as if he were merely stating a fact. 

Fu Tianhe had never seen Chen Ci like this before. While surprised, he couldn’t help but feel a surge of emotions. Under the weight of the heavens, he spoke grandly beneath the full moon—how magnificent! 

But he quickly calmed down. 

Jiu Yue didn’t know much about Moonlight, but Fu Tianhe knew a lot. 

The beacon Moonlight, located on the Greenland Snow Plateau, collapsed nineteen years ago. The collapse lasted for over four months, with only twenty thousand residents surviving, who then migrated to other beacons as refugees. 

To this day, no one can clearly explain the true reason for Moonlight’s fall. The surrounding waters, having gathered too many primordial creatures, had also become a recognized forbidden zone. 

Over the years, various speculations about Moonlight had emerged, and that distant, mysterious existence had even become a kind of legend. 

Some said it hid countless treasures and resources vital to humanity. 

Others claimed that Moonlight had secretly colluded with primordial creatures and betrayed the human world. 

And some said the fall of Moonlight was actually a pre-set program, and in the near future, other beacons would also collapse one after another, leaving humanity with nowhere to go. 

There were all sorts of claims, and Fu Tianhe thought they were all quite absurd. 

Now that Jiu Yue suddenly brought it up, Fu Tianhe tried to share everything he knew with him. 

He emphasized how dangerous the current situation of Moonlight was, hoping to dissuade the boy from this unrealistic idea. 

To get from Cinnabar to Moonlight, the only way was to take a flying vehicle. However, the Greenland Snow Plateau was ravaged by storms, making it difficult to even find a landing spot, let alone the fact that there were no official flight routes. They would need their own flying vehicle. 

As for taking a boat, that was even more impossible; the primordial creatures in the deep ocean could kill them a thousand times over. 

But Chen Ci just nodded, indicating he understood. From the look in his eyes, Fu Tianhe realized he remained resolute. 

For now, Fu Tianhe couldn’t sway him, so he could only search for more information about Moonlight online. 

Fortunately, Jiu Yue didn’t bring it up again, allowing him to gradually relax. 

Perhaps it was just a fleeting whim? It wouldn’t be long before Jiu Yue forgot about it. 

The sun was about to set, and the glow of the sunset enveloped the coast. Taking advantage of the last rays of light, they hurried to find a suitable camping spot. 

The tide was crashing continuously, and resting near the sea was definitely not a good idea. The two moved inward for another three miles, stopping only when they were sure they couldn’t hear the sound of the waves. 

Fu Tianhe took off his backpack and began to set up camp. 

Chen Ci stood beside him, just about to lend a hand when that feeling of being watched returned once more. 

He quickly turned to look, but all he saw were broken walls and ruins, bathed in the last warm light of the sunset. 

Still, he found nothing. 

Even the mental energy spreading toward the distance didn’t detect anything unusual. 

But Chen Ci was certain it wasn’t an illusion.