Only I Cultivate
Chapter 46: The Ball (2)

Chapter 46: The Ball (2)

Feng Fan weaved through traffic atop his motorcycle, his long black hair flowing in the wind, while a worn-out straw hat adorned his head.

Yes, he wasn’t wearing a helmet.

Any cop or traffic warden who dared to stop him would be met with a quick flash of a badge and a cocky grin.

He cut through cars like a madman, leaving a trail of angry shouts and curses in his path. Well, he was a madman, after all.

Eventually, he arrived at the Celestial Estate without killing himself or anyone else. Two guards stepped forward, blocking his way.

"Stop! Identify yourself," a burly man in a black suit and sunglasses demanded, his tone cold and unyielding.

Feng Fan remained on his motorcycle, barely sparing the man a glance. "Feng Fan from SIF."

The guard pulled out his phone and quickly checked the guest list. "Where’s your invitation?"

"Oh, it’s right here," Feng Fan replied, patting his pockets in search of the invitation. After a few seconds of rummaging, he shot the guards an awkward smile. "Uh... I think I forgot it. Can I go in anyway?"

The guard’s expression hardened. "Then show me your badge and identification card, so we can confirm it’s really you."

Feng Fan let out a frustrated sigh, having expected this to become a hassle. "I brought my badge but... forgot my ID card."

He flashed his SIF badge, but the guards remained unimpressed. Plenty of people from SIF were present tonight, but most didn’t have clearance to enter.

"Sorry, without both, you can’t go in."

Just as Feng Fan was about to argue, a calm, authoritative voice sounded from behind him.

"Don’t worry, he’s with me."

An elderly man with a kind, amicable smile approached. Feng Fan didn’t notice the instant transformation in the guards’ demeanor—their backs straightened, and tension took over their bodies.

"Yes, sir!" They replied in unison, bowing respectfully.

Feng Fan glanced at the old man, intrigued. ’Oh, this guy must be a big shot.’

Since the guards let him in, Feng Fan took advantage of the moment and rode his motorcycle through the gates, parking at the first spot he found. It wasn’t hard—most people had arrived in limousines driven by chauffeurs, who didn’t linger at the estate.

After he dismounted, he noticed the old man still standing nearby, smiling with his hands behind his back. Feng Fan frowned, his tone blunt as ever.

"Need something, old man?"

His loud words echoed across the entrance, and the guards nearly choked on their own breath at the blatant disrespect.

But the old man didn’t seem to mind, replying with calm politeness. "Nothing much. My name is Lai He. Nice to meet you, Feng Fan."

Feng Fan gave him a slight nod, unfazed. Since the old man vouched for him, it wasn’t surprising he knew his name.

As they walked toward the entrance to the ball, Lai He struck up a conversation.

"What do you think about SIF, Feng Fan?"

Feng Fan didn’t think much about the question and answered casually. "The working conditions aren’t that great, considering the lack of information about targets and the constant risk of death, but at least the pay is decent."

Lai He laughed at his response. "I was expecting an answer about its purpose—dealing with ghosts, helping people, but also tricking them."

"Oh, it’s fine, not much to say," Feng Fan shrugged.

"Have you ever thought about going to the capital? I believe it would be a great place for a man with abilities like yours."

Feng Fan glanced at the old man with a skeptical expression. "My abilities? Old man, you must be mistaken. I’m just an F-rank Hunter. There should be dozens of them everywhere."

"Haha, a humble young man—there aren’t many of those nowadays," the old man chuckled.

But Feng Fan wasn’t paying attention to him. His gaze was locked onto Luo Li, who had just stepped out of a black limousine, wearing a stunning red dress that accentuated her graceful figure. The dress hugged her curves just right. She moved with a quiet elegance, and Feng Fan couldn’t help but stare, his mouth slightly agape.

Lai He noticed his reaction and couldn’t help but chuckle to himself. ’It seems his curse is true. Who would have thought one could possess such a peculiar fate? Still, that Luo girl isn’t bad at all, they might make a good couple someday.’

He continued to watch quietly as Feng Fan moved toward Luo Li, his figure fading into the shadows of the night.

"Oh, it’s the Luo princess. I heard she’s already a C-rank Hunter. What rapid development; she might even surpass her brother soon," a lady holding a glass of wine whispered to the man beside her.

"Alas, if it weren’t for her curse, many would be lining up to ask for her hand in marriage by now," the man replied.

"Doesn’t every Hunter have curses anyway? As long as the benefits outweigh the drawbacks, what’s a little disgust in the grand scheme of things?"

As Luo Li stepped out of the limousine, she felt the weight of countless eyes on her—some filled with respect, others with curiosity. The Luo family was an influential household, after all.

Yet beneath the surface, she could sense the faint traces of disgust lingering in their gazes. It wasn’t hard to guess the reason—her curse. Knowing it didn’t make the ache any easier to bear.

’The only person who doesn’t look at me like that... is Feng Fan,’ she thought, her mind drifting to the memory of him boldly calling her his wife.

A faint blush colored her cheeks. ’Was he serious, or did he just say that to make the other guy go away?’

"Luo Li!" a familiar voice rang out beside her.

Her eyes widened in surprise. ’What’s going on? Am I even hallucinating him now?’

"Luo Li, hey!" the voice called again, and she finally snapped out of her daze.

Feng Fan stood there, grinning at her from the edge of the red carpet, his casual demeanor completely out of place among the elegance and formality.

But the one who replied to him wasn’t Luo Li, but Luo Ru.

"Who do you think you are to call my daughter like that? Know your place," he said, his brows furrowing in displeasure.