Chapter 1: Dead City
Xu Zhi maneuvered her wheelchair to the window, silently gazing at the overcast sky and the tide-like black mist creeping over the ground outside.
This was the seventh day since she had been abandoned, and also the seventh day since the city had been sealed off and declared a quarantine zone.
Everyone who could leave had already evacuated one after another. Now, the entire city was locked down—no one could enter or exit.
Logic told her that the disaster came suddenly, and it made sense that her parents would choose to take only her healthy younger brother. After all, bringing her—a burden—might have gotten the whole family trapped. But she was only seventeen, abandoned by her entire family in this “city of death.” How could she possibly remain rational?
This frail body of hers hadn’t earned her more love or care from her parents, only increasing impatience and resentment. They never even intended to treat her illness. Even when charitable donors had sponsored her treatment, the money was never actually used to help her.
If not for the restraints of the law, her parents probably would’ve abandoned her long ago. After all, they already had a perfectly healthy child. As long as the authorities didn’t see signs of abuse or neglect during occasional home visits, it didn’t matter how they really treated her.
Now that the world had changed drastically, this was the perfect excuse—they didn’t even hesitate. She was discarded without the slightest pretense.
Was she overwhelmed with sorrow and disbelief?
Not really. Even without the disaster, she likely wouldn’t have lived past adulthood. She could feel her body getting weaker day by day. Missing that one chance for a life-saving surgery meant she probably had less than two years left. And once she became an adult, the federal oversight would loosen. If she died of illness, so be it.
So what she felt more than anything was, “So this day has finally come.”
There is no greater sorrow than a dead heart. Numbness and hatred far outweighed grief and sadness.
The leftover food at home would last her maybe two more weeks. After that, she’d probably just starve to death in her own house.
After all, the city was no longer safe. For someone like her—with a severe heart condition, wheelchair-bound, and partially deaf—just stepping outside would likely mean death within an hour.
A year ago, supernatural abilities suddenly appeared in the world. People were ecstatic at first, unaware that it was merely the prelude to a coming catastrophe.
A month ago, everything changed. The celestial hound devoured the sun, and black mist blanketed the earth. From this mist, alien monsters were born—bizarre and deranged, immune to conventional weapons. Only supernatural powers could kill them. But humans had only been dabbling in the supernatural for a year. They were completely unprepared to fight back.
Just as humanity neared the brink of extinction, the mist suddenly began retreating—like a receding tide—all in one direction.
Toward Cloud City, where Xu Zhi lived.
For reasons unknown, the majority of the mist was predicted to flow into Cloud City within two days, making it a high-concentration mist zone. Even without monsters, such an environment would be uninhabitable for humans.
Let alone the fact that monsters were born of the mist—and thrived in it. Unless something miraculous happened, Cloud City was doomed to become a nest of monsters.
The Federation immediately issued an emergency evacuation order: within 15 hours, all residents must leave Cloud City. After that, the city would be sealed off permanently and declared a no-man’s zone.
But 15 hours wasn’t enough time to evacuate an entire city. There were surely others like her—burdens—who had been abandoned in the chaos.
Still, Xu Zhi refused to accept it. She refused to die here, silently and forgotten.
How could they bring her into the world, then neglect to treat her illness because she was inconvenient, and finally throw her away the moment they had a chance—without even bothering to pretend?
Xu Zhi figured that after years of sickness and parental neglect, she might be a little mentally unwell. But she didn’t care.
Her beautiful yet sickly eyes stared unblinkingly at the black mist outside the window, filled with an obsessive and gloomy intensity well beyond her age. Her hand, resting on the wheelchair’s arm, clenched slightly. Due to malnutrition and anemia, her fingers were thin and pale, with protruding knuckles and bluish veins clearly visible—almost unsettling.
She was clearly a child whose health was beyond saving at a glance.
Just as her defiance reached a tipping point, the black mist outside the window suddenly rippled—almost imperceptibly. Then, from the empty living room came a soft clack—the sound of something falling to the floor.
Startled out of her thoughts, her pupils contracted slightly. After a moment, she realized something must have dropped. She relaxed her clenched fist, moved her hand to the wheelchair’s control panel, and turned to look.
When she lowered her head and saw what had fallen to the ground, a look of surprise appeared on her pale, serene face.
It was a black-and-white handheld gaming console.
“When did we ever have a game console in the house?”
No, something was wrong. Xu Zhi was certain they’d never owned one.
She had been home alone for nearly a week. During the days, she’d spent most of her time in the living room doing nothing. Never once had she seen a handheld console.
This thing had simply appeared out of thin air.
Realizing this, the girl pressed her lips together, a little lost, a little afraid—but also curious and faintly excited.
She knew Cloud City had become extremely dangerous. This game console could very well be part of that danger.
But she was already dying. Barring a miracle, she wouldn’t live past the end of the month. So why should she be cautious or fearful?
With that thought, her expression calmed. She maneuvered her wheelchair to the console, bent over, and picked up the seemingly expensive device.
Now that it was in her hands, Xu Zhi was a little unsure. How does this even work?
She had never used a game console before. Her only form of entertainment was the household TV—when others weren’t using it. Besides that, she had her textbooks. She couldn’t attend school like a normal child and had to self-study with discarded materials. Her parents never taught her anything, nor would they hire tutors.
If she hadn’t fallen ill in fifth grade and learned the basics, Xu Zhi believed her parents might’ve let her grow up illiterate.
Only her younger brother treated her somewhat kindly, occasionally helping her with homework. But their parents disliked them interacting, thinking she was bad luck. So their relationship wasn’t very close either. She mostly worked through leftover problem sets on her own. Her scores weren’t great—hovering around 30 to 40 out of 150.
Still, for Xu Zhi, learning was fun.
A girl from such a barren life had no idea how to use a handheld console.
Fortunately, she didn’t need to press anything. The console screen lit up on its own.
A pixelated loading bar appeared in the center.
Within five seconds, it reached 100%.
The pixelated game screen showed a gloomy sky. In the sky, a black sun hung like a source of pollution, continuously dripping black liquid onto the world below. This scene formed the game’s opening background. Then, a line of text appeared in the center of the screen:
[In the beginning of origin, all things were born from the sun and all are extinguished in darkness.]
[All things cycle through time. The old order and ancient gods have been buried by time. Now, a new order has been born. Do you long to become the god of this new order?
Do you have the courage to offer your life and step into this unrestrained conflict? If you are ready, then please choose your kin.]
Naturally, Xu Zhi wasn’t scared off by these lines. For some reason, although it was just a pixel background and a few short lines of text, they gave her a strong sense of reality, as if by pressing “confirm,” she would truly embark on this journey.
“…Interesting.”
Xu Zhi muttered softly, then decisively clicked “confirm,” entering the kin selection screen.
[Since you have not unlocked any kin tiers, your initial choices are limited to low-level creatures with weak vitality.]
[Available choices:]
[1. Frog (Lv0)]
[2. Snake (Lv1)]
[3. Sparrow (Lv0)]
Xu Zhi fell silent for a moment. Is this it?
Still, judging by the locked options, she guessed that after leveling up, higher-tier choices might appear.
For now, there was no need to hesitate—at least the snake was Lv1.
After selecting, the pixelated black snake enlarged slightly, and its attribute list appeared in the center of the screen:
[Mind: 1 Body: 3 Element: None Trait: None]
“Looks a bit weak…”
As the girl muttered, the screen dimmed and the game officially loaded.
When it lit up again, a small pixelated snake appeared in the center of the screen. The game visuals remained pixel-style, but the perspective was strange—it seemed to be a thermal view from the snake’s point of view, very low to the ground and with limited range, making it difficult for Xu Zhi to see the surroundings clearly.
In the bottom-left corner of the screen was a line of instruction:
[Avoid danger, find food, and evolve. Survive on this perilous land.]
[Current Evolution Points: 0/10]
Then, a black prompt appeared in the center:
[You are in a park’s greenbelt. There doesn’t seem to be any immediate danger nearby.]
[Choose your direction: Forward / Backward / Left / Right]
Since there was no danger, Xu Zhi casually chose to go forward.
In the screen, the little black snake slithered forward, and soon enough, the first living creature appeared.
Due to the thermal view, Xu Zhi could only see the general shape—but it wasn’t hard to guess: it was a frog.
[You’ve discovered a frog. Hunt it?]
No reason to hesitate—Xu Zhi decisively chose “yes.”
On the screen, the black snake silently slithered behind it and then swiftly attacked, swallowing the small frog in one bite.
[Hunt successful.]
[Current Evolution Points: 1/10]
The black snake flicked its tongue, seemingly unimpressed with the small prey.
[Choose a direction to continue.]
Xu Zhi continued controlling the snake to wander through the safe greenbelt for a while. She encountered five prey in total and gained six evolution points. Then, a prompt appeared:
[Your kin’s stamina is depleted. It can no longer hunt. Please rest for two hours before continuing.]
Seeing this, the girl frowned slightly. She was just getting into the game—now it stopped because of stamina? Who could tolerate that?
“…Fine. Just two hours. I’ll eat first and continue later.”
It would take her a fair bit of time to cook something for herself anyway.
After setting the console down, Xu Zhi glanced at the clock and showed a confused expression—unconsciously, nearly two hours had passed. And she had been completely focused the whole time.
But with her condition, her energy shouldn’t have allowed her to play a game for this long. Normally, even reading a book required a break after half an hour.
“Was I just too absorbed?”
Even more strange—although it was well past dinnertime, she didn’t feel hungry at all.
Given her illness, missing a meal or her medication usually made her feel unbearably weak, like the weakness seeped through her bones, leaving her restless and unable to concentrate.
But now, she felt no discomfort at all.
Xu Zhi sharply sensed—something was wrong.
