The Ring That Grows Stronger by Slaying Endless Monsters

"Hey, you old geezer, stop running!"

In the sweltering heat of July, on the bustling streets of the antique market in Haitan City, a boy about sixteen or seventeen years old was cursing loudly while chasing a man in his sixties.Despite his young age, the boy was over six feet tall, with sharp eyebrows, bright eyes, and a well-defined face that hinted at striking good looks. Unfortunately, his charm was overshadowed by his delinquent attire, fiery red hair, and foul language. Armed with a brick in hand, he was furiously chasing the elderly man, drawing the judgmental stares of passersby who lamented, "The world's really gone downhill. Kids these days have no respect."Strangely, although the boy ran with astonishing speed—almost as fast as a sprinter in a hundred-meter dash—he couldn't catch up with the old man ahead, leaving everyone bewildered.The elderly man, with his silver hair, glowing complexion, and long white beard reaching his chest, looked dignified yet slightly disheveled as he fled."Kid, you've been chasing me for two blocks now. Why so persistent? It's just a ring, after all! Is it really worth all this trouble?""You old geezer, you told me this ring was an ancient relic worth at least 2,000 yuan. I bought it from you for 100 yuan, only to find out it's just a cheap trinket worth 50 cents from a roadside stall. Give me my money back, or I'll chase you to the ends of the earth!""Buyer beware, my boy. A deal is a deal. I sold you the ring, and the money's already spent. Even if you catch me, I've got nothing to return. You might as well give up!""You old geezer, this isn't over!"Half an hour later, the boy was lying flat on the ground, completely out of breath. The old man had long disappeared from sight."That… old… geezer… must… know… martial arts…" Arlo muttered in disbelief. How could someone his age, renowned for being unstoppable on the soccer field, fail to catch a man in his sixties? He had chased the old man for over half an hour, covering more than ten kilometers, yet still lost him.After catching his breath, Arlo finally stood up, leaning against the walls as he made his way home. Anyone who saw him would have thought he'd done something inappropriate for his age.In the southwest corner of Haitan City lay rows of dilapidated shanties, most over fifty years old and still untouched by redevelopment plans. This area had become a slum, home to the city's poorest residents.As Arlo entered the neighborhood, his brows furrowed. The sight of garbage-strewn streets and the stench of decay in the air made him grimace every time, yet he had no choice—this was the place where he was born and raised."Arlo, you're back!" A slightly aged woman stepped out of a rundown courtyard house as she spotted the boy. A kind smile lit up her face. "It's hot out there. There's some watermelon in the fridge; I just bought it for you."This woman was Arlo's mother, Ma Min. She was an unremarkable woman with an ordinary name and an average appearance in every sense—height, looks, figure, and even her job. Yet, she possessed the quintessential qualities of a loving wife and devoted mother. Despite living in poverty with her husband and son, she maintained an optimistic outlook on life.Looking at his mother, Arlo felt a pang of guilt. Though she wasn't yet forty, her appearance suggested someone in her fifties—a result of years of hard work and stress, much of it caused by Arlo's rebellious behavior and poor academic performance."Mom…" Arlo opened his mouth, but the words he wanted to say wouldn't come out."Arlo, what's wrong?" His mother gently brushed the dust off his clothes and scolded, "Look at you, all dirty again. Were you fighting with someone?""No," Arlo replied, patting off the dirt himself. "I'm hungry. Is there anything to eat?""As long as you weren't fighting," Ma Min sighed in relief, smiling. "There's some leftovers in the fridge. Let me heat them up for you.""Okay. I'll lie down for a bit." Arlo avoided meeting his mother's gaze and retreated to his room.His space was a tiny five-square-meter cubicle. Inside was a wooden bed with a straw mat, a pillow, and a thin blanket. A row of hooks on the wall held a few pieces of clothing. The room was as simple as it could be, but it had been Arlo's private space since he turned eight.Lying on the bed, Arlo stared at the ring on his middle finger, feeling a wave of frustration.Arlo's father, Niu Xin, had given him a unique name—Arlo.Since Arlo could remember, his family had been incredibly poor. His parents were low-wage workers barely earning a combined 3,000 a month—an amount far from sufficient in the inflation-ridden year of 2026.Perhaps out of frustration with his own inability to provide more, Arlo's father often had a bad temper. Coupled with Arlo's mischievous behavior and poor academic performance, their relationship was fraught with tension. Two years ago, Arlo had been expelled from school, which only worsened matters. His father resorted to harsh physical discipline, while his mother would silently weep and tend to his injuries afterward.