Slaughter System

At the training grounds of Anning City Third Martial Arts High School, Song Chen folded his registration form, tucked it into his pocket, and let out a long breath.

He had waited three months; he could finally leave the city.

If he didn't get out of the city soon, the Slaughter System in his head would rot away right along with him in this base city.

Three months ago, Song Chen had awakened the standard gear for a transmigrator: a Slaughter System.

The system was incredibly powerful, capable of exchanging for rewards so good they were explosive; getting his hands on just one could change his fate. However, there was a prerequisite: he had to kill ranked lifeforms to earn Slaughter Points.

Killing chickens was useless, killing ducks was useless; he had to kill the mutated beasts outside the city that had devoured spiritual energy.

But Song Chen's blood-qi value was only 0.6. He wasn't even a martial artist, and the base city wouldn't let him leave the walls at all.

It had taken three full months for him to finally wait for an opportunity to leave.

The martial arts college entrance exam was only a month away, and the practical combat assessment was the main focus, so the school was organizing students to go outside for field training.

Song Chen had signed up without hesitation.

A crisp voice came from behind him.

"Song Chen, your blood-qi value is only 0.6. You haven't even touched the threshold of a martial artist, yet you signed up for practical field training?"

"This isn't a game. Outside the city, it's full of exotic beasts. People actually die out there."

Lin Qingxue held the report card from the last school test out in front of Song Chen. The glaring "0.6" on it looked like a silent mockery.

Song Chen picked up his jacket from the ground, brushed off the dust, and remained indifferent. "I know."

"You know?"

Lin Qingxue stepped forward, blocking his path.

"Do you know how many exotic beasts are out there?"

"First-rank, second-rank, there are even third-rank existences. Do you know how many people died in the last field training class?"

Song Chen looked at her. Lin Qingxue was a well-known beauty in the class, tall with delicate, picturesque features.

At this moment, her exquisite face was full of anxiety, and her eyes were even slightly red.

Unfortunately, Song Chen was not the type of person to change his mind just because of a few words from a pretty girl.

"Qingxue, move aside."

"You..."

Lin Qingxue was so choked up by his words that she couldn't speak.

"Yo, isn't this our class's top combatant?"

A sarcastic voice drifted over from the side.

Zhao Wei walked over swaggeringly with two lackeys in tow.

"I heard you signed up for the field training outside the city?"

He walked up close, looked Song Chen up and down, and deliberately bit down hard on the words "field training." "Blood-qi value of 0.6, not even a martial artist, are you going out there to deliver takeout to the exotic beasts?"

The two lackeys behind him burst into mocking laughter.

Lin Qingxue frowned. "Zhao Wei, keep it down."

"Oh, Qingxue has spoken, so I have to give you some face."

Although Zhao Wei said that, his feet didn't move. Instead, he leaned in a step closer and lowered his voice to say to Song Chen, "Song Chen, do you think this is still playing house in the classroom?"

"Those exotic beasts outside won't be polite to you just because you've practiced your martial arts well. Your blood-qi value is what it is; even if you could make your techniques dance, what does it matter?"

"Oh, right, make sure you come back alive. I'm still waiting for the day I can spar with you again."

The words sounded snide, but Song Chen understood them perfectly.

Although his blood-qi value was low, his actual combat ability was extremely strong—something earned through countless days and nights of grueling practice.

During the practical assessment three months ago, Song Chen had beaten Zhao Wei—whose blood-qi value far exceeded his own—to the ground in front of the entire class, causing him to lose face in a big way.

Ever since then, Zhao Wei had hated him to the bone.

"Are you done?"

Song Chen finally spoke, his tone very flat.

Zhao Wei was stunned.

"If you're done, get lost."

Song Chen pushed past him and walked out without looking back.

"You!"

Zhao Wei gritted his teeth, staring at Song Chen's back, a flash of malice in his eyes.

He suddenly snapped back to reality, remembering that he couldn't seem to beat Song Chen at all.

"Fine, I'll wait."

"I want to see how a 0.6-value piece of trash manages to come back alive."

Song Chen walked out of the training grounds and headed home along the streets of the base city.

The sky had already darkened, yet the streets remained brightly lit.

The signs for various martial arts gyms, genetic enhancement shops, and ability awakening centers were dazzling enough to make one's eyes swim.

People dressed in combat suits passed him from time to time, their chests adorned with martial artist badges, their strides hurried.

Song Chen looked up at the sky.

Countless tiny specks of light flowed slowly through the air; those were spiritual energy particles.

Fifty years ago, a meteorite crashed into the depths of the Pacific Ocean, releasing an endless stream of spiritual energy particles.

Since then, the era of martial arts had begun.

To become a First-Rank martial artist, the most basic requirement was a blood-qi value of 1.0.

Song Chen's 0.6 was far too low.

It took an hour to walk from the training grounds to his home.

For the first half hour, the streets were lined with clean asphalt roads and neat streetlights.

Several genetic potion specialty shops were open along the way, with various test tubes displayed in glass windows; the smallest bottle had a price tag ending in four zeros.

During the second half hour, the road surface began to grow uneven and potholed, with a third of the streetlights broken.

Unknown weeds sprouted from the cracks in the ground.

The buildings on both sides became increasingly low and dilapidated, their walls plastered with all sorts of advertisements.

"High prices paid for beast life cores, honest dealings guaranteed."

"First-Rank blood-qi potion, original price 88,888, now 8,888, first come, first served."

"Martial arts gym enrollment, guaranteed pass for the martial arts college entrance exam, or your money back."

Song Chen wove through these advertisements, finally turning into an alley and stopping in front of a small six-story building at the end.

The hallway lights had long since broken and remained unrepaired; he climbed to the fifth floor and took out his keys to open the door.

The moment the door opened, Song Chen sensed that something was wrong.

The lights in the house were off, but a figure sat by the dining table.

The hum of the range hood and the sizzling of stir-frying came from the kitchen, and a familiar aroma drifted out—it was his mother's braised pork.

Song Chen stood at the doorway, his hand still resting on the doorknob.

"Come in and close the door."

A voice came from the darkness; it was his father, Song Zhengye.

Song Chen closed the door and flipped on the light.

The light illuminated the cramped living room.

In a space of just over ten square meters, the dining table, sofa, and TV stand were squeezed together.

Hanging on the wall were photos of him as a child, along with a picture of his parents in their youth.

Back then, they were dressed in standard combat suits, full of spirit, with martial artist badges pinned to their chests.

Now, those badges had long been tucked away in some forgotten corner.

His father, Song Zhengye, sat by the dining table with a bottle of Erguotou and an enamel cup in front of him; half the liquor in the cup was already gone.

His mother, Li Xiuying, poked her head out from the kitchen, still holding a spatula.

She glanced at Song Chen, said nothing, and retreated back into the kitchen to continue cooking.

Song Chen hung his coat on the hook by the door and walked over to sit at the dining table: "Dad."

Song Zhengye grunted, picked up the enamel cup, and took a sip, his gaze not once falling upon him.

The atmosphere was wrong—extremely wrong—and completely different from usual.

Just as Song Chen was about to ask what was happening, his mother walked out carrying two plates of food.

A plate of braised pork and a plate of stir-fried shredded potatoes—all his favorite dishes.

She placed the dishes on the table, served the rice, and then sat down opposite him.

Three people, one table, three bowls of rice.

No one touched their chopsticks, and no one spoke.

After a long while, Li Xiuying broke the silence.

Her voice was kept extremely low, as if she were discussing a secret: "Your homeroom teacher called. He said you signed up for the field combat training outside the city."

Song Chen's chopsticks paused.

"When did that happen?"

"Just now."

Li Xiuying looked at Song Chen, her eyes already rimmed with red. "Your homeroom teacher called specifically to warn me, saying this training is extremely dangerous and that accidents have happened in previous years."

"Xiao Chen, tell Mom the truth. What are you actually thinking?"

Song Chen remained silent.

Li Xiuying's voice trembled slightly. "Your Vitality value is only 0.6, you aren't even a martial artist yet. Outside the city, even a first-rank exotic beast could swat you dead with a single blow. Isn't this just..."

She couldn't bring herself to say the word "death."