Chapter one

War destroys an era, and war creates a new world.

I don't know since when, the night is no longer completely dark. Underneath the night sky, two deep, dark red fluorescent lights illuminate, slowly drifting in the air. The area covered by the faint glow of the fluorescent lights is filled with thick, dark green sewage that constantly emits a putrid odor. Even in the darkest corners, the sewage emits a pale green glow, illuminating a small surrounding area. Although the filth is unbearable, the most dangerous aspect of this omnipresent sewage is its lethal radiation.

Within the puddles formed by the accumulated sewage, remnants of their original colors, rusty iron cans, and carrion left behind by unknown creatures float or sink. Occasionally, giant rats nearly one meter long emerge from nowhere, squeaking and scurrying through the sewage before vanishing into the darkness. Interestingly, despite the high levels of radiation that could kill a fully grown horse, these giant rats seem to be immune to its effects. However, they occasionally drop pieces of decaying flesh along with fur and skin.

The fluorescent lights float several meters up, stopping at the top of a slanted steel beam, scanning the surroundings beneath the dark night. The two red dots reflect buildings reduced to mere frames, houses with partially collapsed walls, and scattered car wrecks. In this nocturnal world, the green fluorescent light is ubiquitous. Fifty years ago, this place was known as a ruin, but now it is referred to as a city.

Suddenly, a blinding flame erupts at a corner not far away, accompanied by the sound of frantic and hysterical shouts rapidly approaching. Startled, the fluorescent lights quickly unfold four transparent wings, vibrating rapidly as they ascend to a higher position. The fire illuminates a huge beetle over a meter long, which flies away into the distance.

The man holding the torch shows no interest in the beetle. He runs with all his strength, roaring like a beast from time to time, leading the oncoming crowd. The flames quickly diminish, causing the giant beetle to disappear once again into the darkness. However, a strong gust of wind suddenly blows, and the beetle lets out a sharp scream. Its sharp legs and mandibles spark against masonry and steel bars as it desperately flaps its four wings, but it is ultimately overwhelmed and dragged into the depths of the darkness.

Following the beetle's screams, chewing sounds fill the air. Abruptly, hurried footsteps echo through the dark alley as a panicked woman rushes in. Upon entering the alley, she notices a figure sitting against the wall. Covered by a black blanket, the person's head is lowered, obscuring their face. Despite their thin frame, they appear to be a child around eight or nine years old.

The woman hastens over in a few strides, forcefully placing the swaddled baby she is carrying into the man's arms, crying, "Please, save her!" The fluorescent light emitted by the sewage puddle under the wall flickers dimly, revealing the woman's face. Even though the light is dim, one can still see that she possesses a youthful and beautiful countenance. At around twenty years old, her delicate snow-white skin contrasts sharply with the era's norm, enough to make most women envious enough to slap her.

Without waiting for the man's response, the woman suddenly stands up and runs deeper into the alley. After running for some distance, she emits a scream that pierces the night. In the midst of this slightly chaotic atmosphere, her scream resonates far and wide. The frenzied crowd not far away erupts into shouts of excitement and joy. In less than a minute, torches illuminate the alley, and more than a dozen ragged individuals with cruel and excited expressions push and shove their way into the alley, chasing after her.

A particular burly individual brandishes a wooden stick with several large iron nails, forcefully pushing others aside as he shouts, "I will catch that woman! Whoever dares to challenge me, I will smash their head!" A thin middle-aged man behind him lets out a mismatched loud laugh and jeers, "Come on, Orange Lewis! Didn't that woman marry a demon before? Do you want him?"

The alley is not long, and within an instant, a dozen thugs burst out from the other end. Once the flickering firelight passes, darkness reclaims its dominance. The mob only catches a glimpse of the woman's trembling white skin but fails to notice the shadowy figure in the corner, who happens to be a person. In truth, even if the thugs were to see him, in a world filled with sewage contaminated by radiation, people lying around waiting for death are a common sight, garnering no care or attention.

Not far from the alley, the yells of the mob grow progressively louder, intermingled with inhumanly shrill screams of women. Soon enough, the woman's cries abruptly fade, as if muffled by something. However, the mob's laughter and screams intensify, ultimately drowning out the woman's voice. Within the dark alley, the figure tightly wrapped in a black felt blanket suddenly stirs, slowly lifting their drooping head. From under the blanket, the figure retrieves the swaddled baby, exposing its tiny palm from the edge of the cloth. The silhouette of the unborn child is clearly discernible. The skin of this infant glistens and shines, icy clean and moist, in stark contrast to its surroundings. Hidden beneath the lowered blanket, a deep blue light emanates—its eyes silently watching over the baby in the swaddle.

The baby neither cried nor fussed, and a pair of big blue eyes looked back at the deep blue light. This is a girl with a straight and straight nose, and her skin is as translucent as the finest cheese. She is completely different from the babies in this era who are affected by radiation, with large patches of black, blue, gray, and green skin. The small lips also have a rare knife-like line. All in all, she is too pretty, especially for a not-weaned baby. He blinked, and the green light shining on the baby girl's face also flickered a few times. Finally, he stretched out his hand and loosened the tightly wrapped swaddle a little so that the baby girl could hear the surrounding sounds—the roaring and panting of the mob and the occasional women's screams. These hands are slender and white, and the slender fingers seem to be the shadows of the night, blooming quietly for a moment and then retracting into the blanket.

The baby girl tilted her head slightly, her ears trembled, and she took in all the surrounding sounds, listening very intently. Only then did he discover that there were two pointed points at the top of her ears, which were half as long as ordinary human ears. The feast of tyranny and violence in the distance didn't last long. With a burst of disappointment, the mob gradually became quiet. Then a flame shot up into the sky, and with the billowing thick smoke drifting away, there were also bursts of an unpleasant burnt smell. The fire was raging, and occasionally it would rush into the air for more than ten meters. At this time, the light of the fire could even dispel the darkness in the alley for a moment.

There was nothing in the middle of the alley's accumulated sewage, and the child who had always been wrapped in a deep black blanket had disappeared. The blazing sun struggled to penetrate the thick gray clouds and sprinkled on the black and yellow land. Occasionally, a strong wind blew away a small piece of the gray cloud, allowing the sunlight to pass down unhindered, and all kinds of strange animals on the ground fled in search of shelter or simply hid in underground caves to avoid this deadly force of strong sunlight. The only one that wasn't afraid of the sun was a tall plant with half-meter-long spikes growing on its pale stems. Whenever the sun shone, it twisted its branches and stems, accepting the baptism of strong light as much as possible, and grew crazily at a speed visible to the naked eye.

Bang, bang! Bursts of loud noise broke the tranquility of the morning. An old man in his fifties knocked hard on an empty iron pipe inserted into the ground and shouted in a hoarse voice, "Work! Get up, you bastards! Let Old Jack see what is happening today. There are a few lucky guys left!" Immediately, more than a hundred people around jumped up from the ground and ran towards this side. But when they were five meters away from the old man, these people stopped automatically, as if there was an invisible boundary preventing them from going any further. There were several people in the crowd who didn't know the situation and were still pushing forward desperately. Several strong men around immediately began to scold, saying, "The new guy is at the back! Why squeeze?" Before those people could react, they had already received several heavy punches in the face and fell to the ground involuntarily. The people around immediately punched and kicked without mercy. After a while, the brawny men threw the few newcomers who had been beaten unconscious out of the line and even spat out a few mouthfuls of thick phlegm bitterly.

Old Jack had long been used to these atrocities, so he just shrugged indifferently. He wore a leather jacket that had completely tarnished on his upper body and a coarse cloth shirt with fine dark red checks inside. On his lower body, he wore a pair of jeans with some motor oil stuck on them, and on his feet, a pair of high-waist military boots. Compared with the vagrants around who were dressed like beggars, Old Jack was simply a king, and he was indeed as arrogant as a king. Pinned to his chest was a silver badge. The background of the badge was a distant city with a rumbling tank in the center. In the sunlight, this badge shone and was very eye-catching. Hundreds of eyes fell on the badge from time to time, filled with fear, envy, and more greed.

Facing hundreds of wild wolves, Old Jack didn't feel afraid at all. He stood behind a table made of welded angle iron, took out a few cans with unclear labels from the wooden crate behind him, threw them heavily on the desk, and shouted loudly, "Same old rules! One hundred kilograms of ore for five cents, and the price of food is the same as yesterday. It's cheaper for you bastards, and there are even a few cans today. It depends on who can take them away! Don't squeeze—come one by one!"

These people had known the rules for a long time, lined up, and walked to the iron table one by one. Old Jack was like a butcher selecting animals; he glanced at their bodies, skins, and complexions and ordered casually, "You can, go over there and get something to work!" or "You can't!" The refugees who received permission immediately trotted to the pile of tools next to them, picked up the pickaxe and a back basket, and ran towards the mine several hundred meters away, fearing that if they moved a little slower, they would be deemed unsuitable by Old Jack. Useful people were told the dreaded "You can't". Those who already had experience walked unhurriedly, with a natural and familiar expression as if they were in their own courtyard. You must know that this work took a whole day, and it was very unwise to waste energy on the road.

"Why can't I?" A thunderous roar drew everyone's attention back. A strong black man, approximately 1.9 meters tall and resembling a mountain bear, pounded the iron case forcefully and bellowed at Old Jack. Old Jack took out a clean handkerchief, slowly wiped the drool off his face, pointed to a bowl-sized ulcer on the black man's chest, and said slowly: "You are sick! If I let you go down the mine, you will infect all my strong mules. Who will work for me then?"

"I can work! I need to eat, and I have three children to support!" The black man didn't listen carefully to what Old Jack was saying and continued roaring, pounding the iron case repeatedly. Old Jack frowned and gestured behind him while smoothing his bushy beard. With a loud bang, the black man's screams abruptly ceased, and he stared in disbelief at the sudden gaping hole in his chest, unable to speak. Behind Old Jack, a bald-headed man pulled the trigger of the double-barreled shotgun in his hand once more, resulting in another loud bang. Hundreds of iron pellets blasted into the black man's chest, doubling the size of his wound and completely piercing through his broad chest. The burly man wore a wrinkled black suit with several holes, an obvious antique from some unknown era. Three similar strong men stood behind Old Jack.

After wiping his face, Old Jack addressed the air in front of the iron table: "Also, nigger, your saliva stinks!" His tone indicated that the black man was still standing there. Over a hundred refugees who had yet to enter the mine watched with less greed and more fear. Several individuals approached, dragged the black man's body away, and tossed it several hundred meters away. Soon, the putrid smell would attract scavengers like wolves and vultures, who would devour his body, leaving nothing but bones.

The line before the iron case rapidly dwindled, and by dawn, most of the refugees had descended into the mine. Those who weren't chosen headed towards the town, hoping to try their luck there. "There are more and more sick mules, and this month's quota is too much..." Old Jack muttered, standing up and straightening his achy back. As he began to stretch, his movements abruptly halted. He leaned forward, supporting the iron table with both hands, and looked at the child in front of him, barely taller than the table.

The child was wrapped in a dirty blanket, obscuring its original color. The exposed parts of the face and hands were tightly bound with cloth strips. Only one eye remained visible, calmly gazing at Old Jack. The child appeared to be around eight or nine years old, and it was difficult to determine if it was a boy or girl. Normally, Old Jack wouldn't bother with obviously unqualified refugees—he wasn't running a charity. Perhaps it was the sight of blood moments ago that softened his heart, or maybe he was concerned about labor shortages this month. It could even have been the child's eyes. Nonetheless, hesitating for a moment, he asked, "Do you want a job too?" The child nodded. "Alright! Are you a boy or girl?" Old Jack inquired. "Male," the child finally spoke, his voice slightly deep with an indescribable magnetic quality.

"That's great, boy. Go fetch the tools over there. Just like everyone else, dig out a hundred kilograms of ore, and you'll earn five cents. That's the biggest reward you can get. If you're dressing like this, you can't be sick, right? Well, at least you don't have a foul smell. I've got a keen nose." Old Jack instructed. "Now go work, finish early, fill your stomach, and when you can't move anymore, find Lame Paul. He'll tell you how much money you've earned and how much food you can exchange."

Amidst Old Jack's chatter, the boy picked up an iron pick faster than him, lifted the nearly-ground-touching basket, and slowly disappeared into the depths of the mine. As his figure vanished, Old Jack shook his head. He turned to the sturdy man in the black suit who closely followed him and asked, "Am I particularly talkative today?"

In front of this somewhat eccentric old man, the robust figure in the black suit involuntarily took a step back and quickly, forcefully, and resolutely shook his head. Old Jack chuckled twice and said, "You're very clever, which is why I've made you the head of the guards. But always remember, in this area, I am the sole authorized representative of the company. I can let you kill those stray dogs as you wish, but I can also turn you into a dog tomorrow. Old folks are always a bit peculiar. Just do your job well, do you understand?"

Old Jack hummed a tune he had learned from somewhere and walked into an iron nail-made hut. Even in a town a few kilometers away, this iron shack, which was not very breathable and prone to rain, could be considered a luxurious mansion. Dusk soon arrived, and the hungry wolves, who had slept for a day, emitted long howls and began to wander like ghosts, searching for opportunities to fill their stomachs. With a creaking sound, Old Jack pushed open the iron door of the hut and walked out, squinting at the sinking sunset. After taking a nap, he felt much refreshed. The nearby mining cave was already empty, and the workers had already come out and received their rations, returning to their homes. When the sun set on the horizon, the intricate tunnels were filled with ferocious ground squirrels over a meter long. Their powerful upper and lower jaws, sharp and sturdy front teeth, could easily bite through iron bars two centimeters thick, and sturdy rocks were insignificant in front of them. Fortunately, as long as the sun rose, the ferocious hamsters would burrow deep underground and fall into a deep sleep, so the miners had at least half a day to dig for minerals. Just as the sun completely sank, a small figure appeared at the entrance of the mine. The boy stumbled out, carrying a basket of ore almost as tall as himself.

Old Jack's eyelids twitched a few times, and he remained silent as he watched the thin child drag the ore on his back over the scale, pour it onto a small mountain-like pile of ore, and slowly walk over with a note written by the foreman. The cloth wrapped around the boy's body had been stained with large pieces of red, yellow, and mixed blue mineral powder.

As he watched the boy approach, Old Jack walked around to the back of the house. There, leaning against the tin house, stood a big shed. Paul, who had a limp, struggled to move his body, weighing over a hundred kilograms, and exclaimed, "Kid, come here!" The boy walked under the shed and handed over a note of paper. Lame Paul glanced at him and couldn't help but whistle, saying, "You've done as much as many adults. Here's the list, let's see what you want to change. Can you read? Oh, it's amazing! I only recognize half of the words on this list. Hey, don't look over there, you can't afford to change those things now! Look down from here."

Paul used his thick fingers to stroke the middle of the long list, and the boy looked up at it. His gaze remained on the "drinking water" column and continued to rise until his gaze was blocked by Paul's thick fingers. "That's it," the boy pointed at the list with his fingers wrapped in cloth strips. Paul immediately exclaimed, "Aha! Third-level drinking water! Boy, you must be a nobleman. I heard that noblemen's bodies are so delicate that they can only drink pure water, the kind without impurities or radiation."

"That's it," the boy pointed to the list, his voice so flat that it didn't fluctuate at all, making people wonder if it could be an artificially synthesized sound. Paul shrugged and pulled out a can of beverage from a pile of wooden boxes behind him, which seemed out of place in that era, and threw it to the boy. "Here! Third-level drinking water, for the luxurious boy!" The boy carefully tucked the beverage can into the blanket and turned to leave. The lame Paul scratched his head, took the moldy bread that was the size of his fist and as hard as a mineral, and threw it to the boy. "Boy, mining is hard work, not eating. Take this, remember, you owe the lame Paul five cents, and you'll deduct it from your wages tomorrow." The boy took the bread, carefully tucked it into the blanket, and then made a deep bow to the lame Paul before walking into the darkness.

In the darkness-shrouded wilderness, dozens of pairs of wolf-like eyes were fixed on the boy, whispering incessantly. "That kid seems to have done quite a bit today. Why don't we go over and see what he's got? Maybe it's half a loaf of bread." "I bet he must have a big piece of grilled ferocious rat meat in his arms." A lazy but fierce voice next to them joined the conversation and said, "Hey! There are a few new rookies over there. Don't you know Old Jack's rules? In his territory, no one can snatch what he buys." The previous voice clearly didn't agree: "Old Jack? What can he do? I can beat ten old men like him." The lazy person laughed and cursed, "Just you? You're not even worth licking Old Jack's buttocks." The person who was called a rookie was still unconvinced and was about to argue. Little did they know, the other party suddenly lost patience, whistled, and shouted, "Boys, cut up this troublemaker and feed him to the hungry wolves!" More than ten black shadows rose and gathered around.

After a brief scream, tranquility returned to the wilderness. It is important for people to take time to rest so that they can have enough energy to carry an extra basket of ore out tomorrow. Inside the barn, lame Paul could no longer see the boy's figure. He grabbed his nearly bald head and muttered, "Where is this boy going? If he gets eaten by a rotten wolf, my five cents will be gone. Hey, Old Jack, do you think I'll lose my money?" Old Jack, who had been leaning against the shed pillar, spread out his hand and replied, "God knows." Lame Paul struggled to stand up and started organizing the food and record list on the console. Although his legs were disabled, he was still strong enough to support his body, weighing over a hundred kilograms, and jump around in the barn without crutches. He picked up the last piece of paper given to him by the boy and was about to throw it away when suddenly he remembered something and looked at it again. He said to himself, "I don't know why he wants third-grade drinking water. The radiation in the mine is much stronger than the sewage outside the town, and drinking clean water won't solve that problem."

Old Jack took the note from Paul's hand, glanced at the numbers on it, then crumpled it into a ball and casually threw it into the fire pit outside the barn. Old Jack coughed a few times, spat out some thick phlegm, and said, "Paul, go and tell Mad Dog Mad that starting from tomorrow, the child's portion will be reduced by ten kilograms per basket. If he can work here for a full month, then he can have the full portion." Paul responded, "That seems a bit unfair." Old Jack replied, "He's raising a child." Old Jack lit a cigarette, which was only half left, and his voice sounded somewhat dull.

Paul looked up in surprise and exclaimed, "What? How old is he? How can he be raising a child? Oh my goodness! I thought everyone had to go through mutations. How did you find out?" Old Jack calmly said, "Because I've also raised children." Paul was taken aback and said, "You've never mentioned this before. How old is he? He must be twenty years old. God bless him. He shouldn't be as unfortunate-looking as you." Old Jack smiled and replied, "I was very poor at that time and couldn't find enough clean water and food. When he was five years old, he didn't survive the mutation." Paul didn't know what to say for a moment before apologizing, "Old man, I'm sorry for what I said. You know... I've never met a woman in my life who could bear children, so I never had the chance to have a child."

Old Jack took a deep drag of his cigarette and gazed at the light green night sky outside the barn. He said, "Dude, you didn't have to tell me those things. If it weren't for you, I would have become food for a rotten wolf long ago, and I wouldn't have had the chance to serve as the company agent." Paul picked up a supply box weighing nearly fifty kilograms, supported it on one leg, jumped more than a meter high, and gently placed it on the highest shelf. He scratched his head and said, "I didn't mean to save you. You know I'm a master in the fighting realm, and my defense enhancement ability was already at level two back then. That Wolf King couldn't have bitten me to death anyway. But you're different. You're like a soft egg in the magical realm. A rotten wolf could bite off half your butt with just one bite!"

Old Jack handed Paul a small piece of cigarette and patted his shoulder, "Dude, go to bed earlier. It's late, and no women will be coming here." Paul took a deep puff of smoke and held it in his lungs until he couldn't bear it any longer before exhaling. Old Jack had already returned to the iron house, and the sound of a heavy object falling on the ground indicated that he had thrown himself onto the bed. Lame Paul took out a green lacquered iron box from under the console and carefully extracted a magazine that was so deteriorated that it could fall apart at any moment. With the light of the campfire, he flipped through the pages, and his breathing gradually became heavy. Suddenly, the cover of the magazine fell off and landed on the ground.

No matter how many new refugees arrived in the wilderness or how mysteriously the original ones disappeared, the sun always rose as usual. Just like yesterday, the boy arrived when everyone emerged from the mining tunnel. As the sun set completely, he dug out as much ore as before and exchanged it for the same items. The only difference was that his debt to lame Paul increased from five cents to ten cents. Perhaps after a month, there would be enough food to eat, or maybe the boy's strength would improve, allowing him to earn more money each day, thus reducing his debt to lame Paul. Life in the wilderness was monotonous and repetitive, and a year passed by in this manner. In this era, being able to live a monotonous and repetitive life was already considered a rare happiness. What more could one hope for without having to compete with rotten wolves for food or drink water contaminated with intense radiation? As for boredom, it was too luxurious a topic, only occasionally pondered upon by madmen.

At first, a newcomer among the refugees wanted to suggest an idea to the boy, but his cloak, wrapped all over his body, scared them. In this era, there are at least ten highly contagious and incurable diseases, all of which have a common characteristic: decay. Many people secretly speculate about what has already rotted under those strips of cloth and bet on how many more days he can live. However, after the deadline set by the boldest gambler had passed, four brave yet ignorant rookies followed the boy away into the darkness. Three people never reappeared, and the one who returned lost track of the boy's whereabouts. The next morning, the refugees discovered that the man was hanging high from a wooden pole outside Old Jack's house. The bodyguard in a black suit fired ten rounds at him with a double-barreled shotgun but still couldn't silence him. When it comes to torturing people, black suits clearly have a talent.

From then on, the old veterans among the refugees knew never to follow the boy's advice. Three years have passed, and the amount of ore that the boy dug up has already quadrupled, but the amount of food needed in exchange has also increased, so he has never been able to save up. In the fifth year, the amount of ore that could be excavated from the mine decreased, and the simple happiness in the wilderness came to an end. One evening, as he received food and water from lame Paul once again, Old Jack stopped him. The boy from the beginning, the boy of the present, followed Old Jack into the iron house. The room was filled with debris, but there was a bed inside, a real bed with bedding and pillows. Such a bed was enough to distinguish Old Jack from everyone else. The boy didn't take a second look at the bed but kept staring at a hand-drawn map hanging on the wall. The map was roughly sketched, with large gaps still present, and some places were marked with prominent danger words in red ink.

"We're here," Old Jack pointed to the map, then pointed west until he stopped at the circle marked with a scarlet warning. "Continuing: This place is the nest of fire ants. These one-meter-long creatures are very difficult to deal with. They don't actually breathe fire, but you also need to be extra careful of the acid they emit, which is even more dangerous than fire. The most annoying thing is that these guys always come out in groups. However, they also have valuable things on their bodies. Their front claws are harder than steel, but they weigh only half as much, so they can be sold for a good price in many places. Not many people dare to hunt the Spitfire Ant. There is a small piece of meat in the middle of their hind legs that is free from radiation or toxins, but unfortunately, the portion size is really too small."

The young man looked at the map silently, as if he wanted to engrave every stroke on it into his heart. The only exposed eye had a deep blue color, with faint gray lines around the pupils, crystal clear like the finest jade. In all these years, Old Jack realized that it was the first time he had clearly seen a young man's eyes. Old Jack cleared his throat and pointed to the southern end of the Spitfire Ant Nest, where there was only a W, not knowing what it represented. "There is a cave here with a pool of dirty water where a mutated giant leech resides. If you feed it with your own blood, it will expel excess water from its body. This water only contains slight radiation, not much, barely enough for a five-year-old child. The nest of the fire ant is about a hundred kilometers away from here, and you may have to walk for a few days. The mine will close tomorrow, and you don't need to come over." Old Jack waved his hand, and the young man quietly left the iron house. Before leaving, the young man looked at Old Jack and gently said, "Thank you." The young man's voice was as gentle as the wind and carried a mysterious magnetism. In previous eras, there may have been the potential for him to become a superstar.