Run Away, This Civilization Is Cheating!

December 23, 2025.

The room was brightly lit; it was already ten thirty in the morning. Shen Hao woke up suddenly from his dream.

His face was pale as he gasped for air.

*In his mind, it felt as though remnants of the apocalyptic scenes from his dream still lingered.*

Glancing at the alarm clock on the bedside table, Shen Hao rubbed his temples wearily.

It had been a month.

His gaze instinctively lowered to the bottom right corner, where a faint blue progress bar was unmistakably clear, yet oddly seemed nonexistent. It had already reached ninety-nine percent.

Since the day of drastic global upheaval a month ago, when he first saw this progress bar, he had been dreaming vividly each night—dreams that felt all too real.

In those dreams, he seemed to become a mere observer, bodiless, powerless to intervene, simply watching as grandiose apocalypses unfolded before him.

Indeed, apocalypses.

He saw miles of ice encasing the Earth as the world descended into extreme cold, countless humans freezing indefinitely in despair and fury.

He saw boundless seas of fire, living creatures one after another engulfed in flames, disintegrating into ash amidst agonizing screams.

He saw a monster larger than a planet, immune to the relentless bombardments of countless space battleships until the Mother Planet, guarded to the death, was devoured whole by the creature in a single bite.

He saw vegetation growing feverishly within a short span, ravaging and overtaking the world.

He saw monsters pouring out of unknown rifts like locusts, massacring indiscriminately.

Natural disasters, invasions, mutations...

The scenarios grew increasingly grand, the imagery progressively spectacular. Yet no matter how formidable the targeted civilizations were—no matter how they possessed sacred, otherworldly powers straight out of myth—they ultimately faced doom. No civilization could escape the apocalyptic crises.

*Each time Shen Hao entered these dreams, an indescribable sense of mourning infiltrated him, deepening with every scene.*

*It felt like the cries of countless civilizations, the hopeless rage of countless living creatures.*

*It weighed heavily on his body and soul.*

"When it hits one hundred percent, we'll see what you really are," Shen Hao muttered, exhaling deeply as he stepped out of the room.

He had quit his job a month ago and returned to his family's old coastal city home.

One perk of staying home: no matter how late he slept in, someone always made breakfast.

He glanced at his father, who seemed to be making a call on the balcony, but paid him no mind. Shen Hao brushed his teeth, washed up, and carried a bowl of porridge to sit in front of the television. The moment he switched it on, the channel was set to a news program.

The host, an attractive woman, was standing in front of the United Nations Building, reporting live.

"Today, the thirteenth global summit following 'Star Jump' Day is being held among 347 nations. It is expected that agreements could be reached on the 'Supreme Council Member' issue under the global alliance system."

"This is undoubtedly a major advancement for humanity—a moment of unparalleled unity in human history!"

"However, outside the building, we can still see masses of protesters from all over the world. Their complaints are exceptionally diverse."

"Some are shouting about the end of the world, while others are protesting against decisions already finalized by the summit."

"..."

The camera panned outward, showing swarms of people surrounding the building, shoulder to shoulder and impenetrable.

Various skin tones, countless banners, and chants in myriad languages filled the scene.

Some even set themselves on fire on the street, escalating the chaos further. Looking across the crowd, chaos reigned everywhere, and even distant gunfire occasionally pierced the air.

*Shen Hao frowned deeply.*

On the same day that the progress bar entered his field of vision a month ago, the entire world, the entire planet, underwent a monumental and incomprehensible transformation.

—The planet, along with the Moon, had jumped to another location!

Initially, no one knew what had happened. The first signs of abnormality came from space-monitoring stations worldwide.

It felt instantaneous—the starry sky that had existed eternally since ancient times had completely vanished!

Whether through ground observation or artificial satellites in space, all equipment and methods reached the same conclusion—a conclusion that sent panic rippling across humanity, akin to a nightmare.

The planet, the entire Earth, along with the Moon, had traveled to a foreign universe!

A desolate, pitch-black universe seemingly devoid of everything!

Fortunately, in this universe, there was still a Sun, emitting a soft orange-red light. It was larger, younger, and brighter than the old Sun.

But it was clear that this Sun was different—the discrepancy was visible to the naked eye.

Not to mention, it was now late December—the dead of winter should have been bone-chillingly cold. Yet the daily temperature lingered in the comfortable, warm range above twenty degrees.

This abrupt and intense transformation had shattered humanity's understanding of reality.

People had named this day "Star Jump Day."

But more extreme phenomena and magical changes were yet to come!

Shen Hao flipped through a few channels before settling on an interview program.

Appearing on the screen was an elderly man who had recently become a recurring guest on television.

He was a nationally acclaimed professor of dynamics.

Yet this professor wasn't being interviewed for his academic knowledge; he was there because of his superpower.

That's right, his superpower!

When the professor, hailed as a "Chosen One," exhibited the fireball manifesting from his hand on camera—no matter how often Shen Hao had seen this scene before—the inexplicable sense of absurdity struck him anew.

"Currently, known information reveals that most global 'Chosen Ones' emerge from world-class elites across various industries. However, there are cases where individuals attain the Chosen One status purely by chance..." The television host spoke solemnly to the camera. "We urge all Chosen Ones to promptly call the hotline to report. Please do not misuse your superpowers nor succumb to needless fear—your personal freedoms will never be restricted by any authority..."

Shen Hao listened to these statements, repeatedly emphasized for over half a month, and once again turned his gaze to the progress bar visible within his field of view.

If being an elite was the criteria, he certainly wasn't one.

But he still wondered whether this progress bar might somehow grant him the identity of a Chosen One.

Not to mention superpowers—at present, the world held the Chosen Ones in extraordinarily high regard.

Status, wealth, power, fame...

Whatever one desired could be obtained.

In a time of colossal, unpredictable shifts, having such an identity was undeniably a source of reassurance.

"It's close, already ninety-nine percent!" Shen Hao couldn't help feeling tense.

But just then, his father, who was on the balcony making a call, suddenly hurried back inside, his face visibly pale.

"Little Hao, your mom just called from school. She says your sister killed someone!"

"..." Shen Hao's eyes widened. He seemed on the verge of saying something, but after his lips quivered for a moment, not a single word came out.