Chapter 1: Urban Legend

At dawn, beneath the pagoda tree.

The sun was warm, a gentle breeze brushing past, green leaves swaying, dappled light and shadow.

A short-haired boy in a blue-and-white uniform leaned against the tree, gnawing on a steaming seaweed rice ball, gazing blankly at the shimmering surface of the canal ahead.

Li Cheng, third-year high school student, eighteen years old.

Like many of his peers, he had once imagined that some unknown, extraordinary trait lay hidden within him, waiting to manifest at a specific moment.

Unfortunately, it was an ordinary world, an ordinary life.

Reality’s gravity was too heavy—no owl delivered a Hogwarts acceptance letter, no Cassel Institute invitation arrived, and his unknown parents had not passed on to him any bloodline limits, superhuman genes, or similar talents.

Correct—he was an orphan, living with his aunt’s family.

According to his aunt, eighteen winters ago, as she opened her door, she found a cradle placed outside.

Inside the cradle lay a baby clutching an envelope; the envelope stated Li Cheng’s name and his father’s apology for disturbing his sister’s life, along with twenty thousand yuan in cash sewn into the cradle’s bottom.

Twenty thousand yuan might suffice to raise a child elsewhere, but Yins City was an expensive international metropolis—expenses for food, clothing, housing, and transportation quickly drained the sum within a few years.

From childhood, Li Cheng attended the same elite school as his cousins, took the same extracurricular classes, ate the same meals—only differences lay in bedroom size and phone models. He was never abused.

In contrast, his aunt’s family treated him not as family, but at best as familiar strangers under the same roof.

Their courtesy far outweighed any kinship.

Given his aunt’s reluctance to mention Li Cheng’s father, their relationship was likely deeply complicated.

Precisely because of this strange family atmosphere, Li Cheng rode his bike to school each morning by taking a detour—claiming he loved the rice balls from the snack stall east of campus—to avoid walking with his cousins from the same high school.

In another year and a half, after the college entrance exam, he would apply to a distant university—far away. As for the money he owed his aunt’s family, he would deal with it only after securing a proper job.

Unaware, he had finished the seaweed rice ball. Li Cheng crumpled the plastic bag into a ball and tossed it into the trash bin. “Uncle Chen, I’m off.”

The stall owner nodded. “Mm, be careful on your way.”

Li Cheng hesitated, pushing his bike. “Uncle Chen, will you still be out setting up your stall tonight?”

The stall owner looked puzzled. “Of course—I’ve got kids to send to school.”

“Then… be careful. The city’s been unsafe lately.”

Li Cheng said no more and rode toward campus.

In the past year, bizarre urban legends had proliferated online.

Buses that only ran at night, filled with corpses;

Death texts that killed the recipient within seven days of receipt;

Mall mannequins wearing human skin, pretending to be people;

Li Cheng had even seen a short video on a foreign site—several teenagers skateboarding in a park accidentally knocked over a trash bin, from which spilled a charred human head crawling with maggots.

He had often visited that park as a child and knew it well; the incident in the video had occurred just a week ago.

Even more bizarre: the case left no trace on domestic networks—not a single word could be found in searches. The park remained bustling, crowded with pedestrians.

Out of concern, Li Cheng had specifically bought a Swiss Army knife on Taobao and tucked it into the outer pocket of his backpack—even though he knew that such a short blade would do little against real danger.

His bicycle passed several intersections, turning onto a tree-lined avenue. Beyond the stream of luxury cars, the gilded characters of Zhuoyue High School faintly came into view.

As a top-tier private middle-high school integrated system, Zhuoyue’s student body consisted either of wealthy or powerful families, students with exceptional grades, or average students whose families paid heavily for admission.

Amid the polished, glamorous classmates, unremarkable Li Cheng entered campus, walking into Class 5 of the third year, accompanied by the murmur of students reciting lessons.

“Good morning.”

As he hung his backpack on the chairback, the girl to his left, Ye Jiaying, lowered her book, tilted her head, and smiled sweetly at him—beautiful as a painting.

“Y-you too.”

Li Cheng froze, then reacted, forcing his expression calm as he sat down slowly, regretting why he had suddenly lost the ability to speak.

He still remembered the first day he saw Ye Jiaying—right after school started, she walked through the hallway wearing a white sweater and a brown plaid skirt, stepping in light blue canvas shoes.

All the boys in class, including Li Cheng, simultaneously fell silent, staring out the window in stunned silence.

Some girls who had dressed meticulously for the first day of school gritted their teeth in envy—but for some reason, that sweater-and-plaid-skirt outfit became a trend in school for months.

“No way, Sheng-ge,”

The boy beside him, already seated, elbowed him with a mocking grin. “That reply was so low-tier.”

Han Letian—he and Li Cheng had been childhood friends for over a decade.

Li Cheng shot him a glance, lowering his voice. “What else should I say? Got any better lines?”

Han Letian replied seriously: “You should say, ‘Only mornings with you are good.’”

“Ugh, can you be any more cheesy? Even the U.S. military would come to attack you.” Li Cheng rolled his eyes, pulled out his homework from his backpack, and placed it on the desk.

“Fine, don’t believe me. By the way, lend me your math homework. I stayed up all night playing that Prometheus Corp VR horror game—man, it’s addictive.”

Han Letian smirked, expertly snatching Li Cheng’s math homework and copying from it alongside other assignments, muttering occasionally: “Is the answer B or 13? Why is everyone’s writing so messy?”

Campus life remained as calm as ever.

Normal classes, breaks, lunch, nap, dismissal. As the sun set, Li Cheng deliberately stayed behind to clean the blackboard, hoping to spend more time with Ye Jiaying.

Classroom seating changed monthly—meaning he had only one month left to sit beside her.

Only after she left with her friends and headed home did he put down the eraser, grab his bag, and bike over to Zhao’s Dessert Shop for his shift.

Boss Zhao was kind, paying a decent hourly wage. When the shop was quiet, Li Cheng delivered cakes as a courier; when busy, he helped bake. After a year of practice, he was now qualified to work independently.

Compared to the brilliant geniuses at school, his grades were only average—he’d likely attend an ordinary university and land an ordinary job.

Learning a practical skill early—like baking cakes or desserts—wasn’t a bad idea.

In fact, Li Cheng suspected his aunt and uncle already knew he didn’t go to the library after school. They didn’t stop him because they hoped a trade would help him become independent sooner.

After hours at the dessert shop, he checked the time—it was nearly eleven at night.

Li Cheng called out: “Uncle Zhao, I’m off.”

“Oh, okay.” The boss’s voice came from behind the plastic roller shutter. “Take the milk tea on the table—it was a canceled order, don’t waste it.”

“Thanks, Uncle.”

Li Cheng slung his backpack over his shoulder, grabbed the milk tea, and rode away from the shop.

Deep night. Narrow, dark alleys of the old district. The boy sipped his milk tea, pedaling slowly.

Boom—

A muffled sound came from far away—not thunder.

Li Cheng turned his head toward the noise and saw distant city lights suddenly extinguish—from the neon signs of skyscrapers to street lamps—all plunged into darkness.

Boom!

Another muffled boom—another district’s lights went out.

Boom! Boom! Boom! Boom!

The sounds grew faster—entire city seemed to suffer a massive blackout, sinking into blackness.

Only the streetlights in Li Cheng’s immediate neighborhood still glowed faintly.

The sudden, eerie situation made his heart pound uncontrollably. He instinctively pulled out his phone—the top-right corner showed no signal.

What’s happening?

As he stood bewildered, a powerful force struck his back, hurling him and his bike violently against a brick wall of a residential compound.

“Cough, cough.”

Li Cheng’s vision swam with stars. He coughed, rose, and saw the creature that had slammed into him—a deformed monster.

It resembled a hybrid of spider and killer bee, standing as tall as a human, with four pairs of compound eyes, each pair centered with three droplets of congealed blood like red amber. Two pairs of membranous wings sprouted from its back, its body covered in brownish-yellow fur, and a long, needle-like tube extended from its tail.

Puff! Puff!

The monster spat dense strands of silk, precisely coating Li Cheng’s mouth, nose, and hands, gluing him firmly to the stone wall—unable to break free.

Only now did Li Cheng notice the street held more victims—two others were stuck to the opposite wall.

One wore a business suit, likely a white-collar worker just off shift; the other wore a cycling helmet and a standard blue vest—apparently a ride-hailing driver.

All three victims were pinned to the wall. The wasp-like monster floated slowly closer, approached the first victim, ignored his struggles and screams, and plunged its needle into his chest, beginning to slowly suck.

With a gurgling “glug-glug,” the monster’s bloated tail pulsed like a pump, drawing blood and bile.

The victim’s chest and abdomen visibly withered—loose skin hung limply over his bones.

The feeding process was neither fast nor slow.

The ride-hailing driver beside him was nearly driven mad—he kicked desperately at the wall, trying to free himself. But with his hands stuck, it was futile.

Li Cheng could do nothing. His mouth and nose were sealed by silk—he couldn’t breathe. The suffocating pressure surged into his brain; his vision was darkening. He was barely holding on.

He faintly saw the monster, having drained the first victim, now thrust its stinger into the second’s chest.

The driver’s desperate whimpers faded swiftly—like a candle snuffed out.

At the brink of death, Li Cheng’s mind was unnaturally clear, coldly analyzing his situation, searching for a way to survive.

First: escape. His left wrist was glued fast; his right wrist was stuck only by the sleeve—his right hand still had limited mobility.

Li Cheng strained every muscle, twisting his body to pull his right arm back, threading it out through his collar.

One arm freed, he tried to peel the silk from his face—but it had hardened, incredibly tough, impossible to tear.

The suffocation intensified. He reached behind, unzipped the outermost pocket of his backpack—the Swiss Army knife lay hidden in the inner lining.

He pulled it out, opened the blade, and slashed desperately at the silk on his face. Twenty seconds passed—he had only cut through the outermost layer.

His lungs burned as if about to explode; his heart pounded as if trying to burst from his chest; his vision grew darker.

To save himself, only one option remained.

A sudden, icy realization formed in his mind.

Li Cheng’s agonized expression stilled. He placed the knife blade horizontally against his throat, pressed firmly against the spot 2.5 centimeters below his Adam’s apple.

Then, he slashed down with all his strength.

His throat was slashed, blood flowing; Li Cheng held his chest upright, clamping the military knife between his chin, then hooked his feet around the nearby bubble tea and kicked it toward him like a ball.

He wasn’t drinking it—he wanted the straw.

Snap!

His right hand snatched the thick, long straw midair and, angling it along the cut in his throat, shoved the tip into his trachea.

Inhale—exhale—

Oxygen was greedily pumped into his lungs; the dimming of his vision from oxygen deprivation vanished instantly, and Li Cheng came back to life.

Only for now.

(End of Chapter)