Chapter 1: Gray Dome

Outside the window is a dark gray sky, and not far away is a floating island resembling a spinning top.

The high-rise buildings above are basking in the sun, with snow-capped mountains and vast green fields creating a refreshing sight at a glance.

Beneath the floating island's shadow, densely concealed buildings evoke a chilling and gloomy atmosphere, akin to a stranger silently standing outside frosted glass windows. A mere glance leaves one with the sensation of the icy depths of a winter lake.

"It's a truly sunny day today."

However, the man sitting across from Russell sips freshly squeezed orange juice and casually comments, "I'm glad it didn't rain."

"Yes," Russell softly responds and turns his head.

By common standards, it is indeed a sunny day, devoid of storms, typhoons, blizzards, or the heavy, dark clouds that obscure the sky like a barrier. However, it may be nothing but an illusion.

Russell has a feeling that the sky should not appear this way. It's as though he's seen it elsewhere, brighter and not gray-white or dim yellow, but with a cloudless blue sky.

But that must be a mirage. Everyone knows the sky has always been gray from ancient times to the present.

"Although this is my first time flying first class," Russell says, his nervous golden cat ears twitching, and his raised tail swaying gently from side to side, "Tianen Group generally doesn't sell first-class tickets to two unrelated individuals, does it?"

On the man's head, there are a pair of white, furry canine ears, and his hair is lush to the point of being intimidating. His long white hair is sufficient to hide his tail. Etched lines resembling scars run across his face, from his left eye's eyebrows to his chin, with the left eye now replaced by a cold prosthetic eye resembling a delicate diamond.

Merely being stared at by that single prosthetic eye sends shivers down one's spine.

The man doesn't directly address Russell's question but instead inquires with a smile, "Are you traveling alone, kid?"

This is quite impolite, Your Excellency. Although it might be hard to believe, it's been two years since I graduated from graduate school," Russell retorts indignantly. "It's just that my appearance makes me look young due to my spiritual lineage. Much like... you appear much older. Not long after people start speaking, the 'spiritual lineage transformation' commences. Some people exhibit minor changes, while others undergo significant transformations, all varying."

Russell has seen individuals with extreme spiritual lineages who become entirely covered in hair, resembling upright brown bears, except for their ability to speak and wear clothing. Others possess only a pair of cat ears, or some have no noticeable spiritual lineage traits at all.

As for Russell himself, he embodies the distinctive reflex nerves and soft body of the sand dune cat species. He's lighter than average, possessing enhanced jumping ability, balance, and explosive power. His ears are larger and his hearing is superior to that of other feline relatives.

He's one of the rare "completely positive individuals," meaning he didn't inherit any negative traits from his spiritual lineage, excluding, perhaps, his height.

If you consider the height of his ears, the man sitting across from Russell must be close to 1.9 meters, while Russell himself, disregarding his ears, is merely 1.65 meters tall. Even when just sitting across from Russell, the man's imposing presence is palpable.

"Spiritual lineage doesn't necessarily impact height; that's a classic pseudoscience. For example, my spiritual relative is a Samoyed dog. In terms of breed, it's a medium-sized dog," Mr. Samoyed remarks casually while sipping from his straw. "I also know a moose. He's quite tall, but only about 1.8 meters. The moose is the largest deer species, but as for being a spiritual relative... well, he has beautiful light blond hair. What cat species is your spiritual relative?"

"My mother and I both belong to the sand dune cat species. It's considered quite a small cat, although I've never actually seen one," Russell responds listlessly. "It might also be a genetic issue, as my mother was a bit shorter than me."

"Just by looking at you, I can tell your mother must have been a beauty," the young man praises sincerely.

Russell realizes he's inadvertently shared some personal information, but there's no helping it. Despite the Samoyed's continuous smile, Russell's spiritual intuition tells him the person in front of him is perilous.

Russell's heart races, his ears stand on end, and he experiences an uncomfortable tension, even suffering from a stomachache. He's never encountered someone so menacing. It's akin to a scene from movies and TV shows when a debtor confronts an underground gang leader – it's almost impossible to sit still.

Russell instinctively starts divulging less crucial information, much like a child who's made a mistake and fears exposure, becoming talkative, admitting to minor errors to distract the other party's attention. According to spiritual lineage science, this is a common instinct among humans who consider small animals as their spiritual kin – much like a small animal rolling over to expose its belly in front of a more dominant figure to prove its harmlessness and tameness.

"Is it normal for your mother to accompany you on this trip?" the man with a dangerous aura asks, clearly probing.

"She's deceased," Russell replies softly while absentmindedly touching the hexagonal pendant hanging from his neck. "Her funeral just concluded."

"I can still vividly recall the feeling," he continues, "even if I clenched my fists, I'd feel empty and powerless. Following that, I'd dream of her every night. Although I forget the dream's content shortly after waking, my pillowcase would always be slightly damp. The pendant contains her personal chip, although the data was wiped during the funeral process. It's a keepsake, nonetheless."

"Sorry... and what about your father?" the man opposite inquires patiently.

Russell feels increasingly uneasy as the conversation delves into personal territory. According to typical emotional intelligence, he should refrain from discussing his father since he'd only mentioned his mother. However, Russell remains composed, as he's skilled in dealing with dangerous individuals.

The crisis he's facing right now mirrors those he confronted as a child when he had to stay calm rather than succumb to fear. Russell knows that maintaining his composure and innocence, like a harmless pet in front of an intimidating figure, is essential. It's similar to how a small animal would expose its belly to a larger animal, striving to demonstrate harmlessness and tameness.

"That man left long ago," Russell scoffs, feigning disdain and veiled resentment, although he genuinely has no emotional connection to his father.

Russell neither loves nor hates his father – he's like a stranger who has no bearing on his life. "He left when I was too young to remember, taking everything with him, including my family's possessions. Unlike my mother and me, he's said to have an eagle as his spiritual relative. He was destined to fly away."

"We used to live on Sogo Island, not like Happy Island with upper and lower urban areas. AI handles most work, and it's

 challenging to find decent employment. My mother worked hard to support me and put me through school. In the past twenty years, that man never sent a penny, not even replying to our messages. Even when my mother died from an illness, and I informed him of her funeral, he ignored me."

"Let me tell you something, sir," Russell continues. "For the first time, I realized that people become surprisingly heavy after they die, and then they become light again. The crematorium doesn't give you all the ashes, just a symbolic handful. The urn is about this big."

Russell gestures, demonstrating the size, with a tone filled with a mix of sadness and self-deprecation. "I was the only one who came to say goodbye, and they gave me only a minute for the farewell ceremony. I couldn't even afford a priest from the Cyber Church to perform the service. Fortunately, I had some odd jobs while in school; otherwise, we wouldn't even afford a mass grave for such a small, light box. If you can't pay immediately, you're left with the 'environmental option' – scattering the ashes directly into the sea."

This isn't all performance; it's genuine sadness based on real experiences. Russell is indeed stronger than he portrays, having managed to finish college in the challenging environment of Sogo Island.

He's learned to reveal his scars and flaws to an appropriate extent while appearing confident, hoping to disarm hostility. It's akin to a stray cat pretending to be well-behaved to persuade passersby to share their food.

It's strange – perhaps due to the focus on performing or the other person's malicious intent, the tension in the air dissipates.

Russell reflects that maybe he's not solely trying to gain the other person's trust, but rather he feels better after sharing these experiences. "Listen to me," the young man's voice deepens, "when you find that man, give him a piece of your mind for abandoning his wife and son."

Russell shakes his head, "I don't want to find him. He's a scoundrel, but I won't become one like him. My mother always said I'd become a great person."

This is the truth. Russell's mother indeed said those words, and he genuinely believes them. "What constitutes a 'great person'?"

"One who garners admiration from the depths of others' hearts, right?" Russell hesitates and then adds, "At the very least, someone who doesn't make people hate them."

The white-haired young man falls silent for a moment, then comments, "That's a very tall order. It's even harder than becoming the director of the 'head office'."

He lets go of the subject, returning to his unsettling, unprofessional demeanor, and offers a faint smile. "So, how can you afford a first-class airship ticket?"

"My mother told me before she passed that I have an uncle on Happy Island." Russell's voice holds a calm tone. "An uncle I've never heard of or met. She wanted me to move to Happy Island, and my uncle even purchased this first-class ticket for me. These tickets are quite valuable. If converted into living expenses, they could provide me with three square meals a day for five or six years. It's just a shame I can't afford luggage. Fortunately, I don't have much to carry, and my school bag is spacious enough. This has actually saved me some money on shipping."

"Is your uncle from...?" the man inquires.

"He works for the Tianen Group, the 'head office,' so he must be in a high-ranking position," Russell reveals intentionally. "Tianen Group is a major corporation."

The tall, white-haired young man sighs softly. "That sounds like quite a company."

After some contemplation, he hands a small box to Russell as if it's no big deal, saying, "You're a good kid. But good kids need to be extra cautious on Happy Island."

"It sounds like Happy Island isn't that different from Sogo Island," Russell mutters as he casually opens the box. However, upon touching what's inside, he senses his ear tips prickling and his heart nearly stopping.

The moment his fingertips make contact, he recognizes it – it's a gun.