Departure

Song Chen looked at the savage scar on his father's arm, a complex, indescribable feeling welling up inside him.

"I understand."

Li Xiuying wiped away tears for a long while, then finally let out a sigh.

"Eat. The food's getting cold."

Her voice was hoarse with exhaustion.

The family of three picked up their chopsticks.

The braised pork had been stewed until it was tender enough to melt in the mouth.

The shredded potatoes were cooked just right—crisp, tender, and refreshing.

Song Chen kept his head lowered, eating slowly, bite by bite.

Li Xiuying chattered on beside him, talking about how he had hated vegetables as a child and she had always had to chase after him to feed him;

about how, when he was six, he had come down with a burning fever, and she and Old Song had held him while waiting in line at the hospital all night;

about how his Blood Qi had only measured 0.12 the first time, and she had cried for an entire night while Old Song comforted her, telling her that it would improve if they raised him carefully.

As Song Chen listened, his throat tightened in waves.

"It's because we're useless."

"If we'd had the money to buy you supplements, your Vitality Value wouldn't have..."

Li Xiuying's voice was so low it was nearly inaudible.

"Mom."

Song Chen cut her off.

Li Xiuying closed her mouth and said no more.

Song Zhengye opened another bottle of Erguotou and filled his own cup.

"Enough."

"It's a good thing our son wants to take a gamble. Weren't we the same when we were young? If I hadn't taken that gamble back then, I wouldn't have married you."

Song Zhengye's words drew a soft laugh from Li Xiuying. But as she laughed, her eyes reddened again. "Stop talking nonsense."

"I'm telling the truth."

Song Zhengye raised his cup. "Come on, son. Have a drink with your dad."

Song Chen looked at the enamel cup held out to him, half-filled with clear liquor.

He had never drunk alcohol before, but he still reached out and took it.

"Thanks, Dad."

He took a small sip.

The fiery liquor rushed straight down his throat, so hot that tears nearly sprang to his eyes.

Song Zhengye burst into laughter and patted his shoulder. "That's my boy! A true Song!"

Li Xiuying scolded Old Song from the side for being improper and leading their child astray.

Outside the window, Psionic Particles still flowed through the night sky, draping the dilapidated buildings of the Poor District in a hazy glow.

Inside, the family of three sat around the small dining table, eating their simple meal and talking about everyday things.

Song Chen looked at his parents' faces and swallowed the burning taste in his mouth.

He knew full well how dangerous it was beyond the city walls, but he had to go—not to get into university, but simply to survive.

So that he could keep sitting with the loved ones before him and share an ordinary dinner.

He picked up his bowl. "Mom, give me another bowl of rice."

Li Xiuying froze for a moment, then smiled. The wrinkles at the corners of her eyes crinkled together, yet she had never looked gentler or more beautiful.

"Alright."

"Mom will get you some."

Late at night, when all was still.

Song Chen lay in bed, tossing and turning without the slightest hint of sleep.

He simply got up and walked to the window.

The night sky outside was like an overturned palette, countless Psionic Particles floating within it and drifting slowly.

Red blazed like fire, blue gleamed like ice, purple carried a mysterious ghostly radiance, white resembled shattered diamonds scattered over black velvet, and golden strands wove them all together.

They gathered into ribbons of light, intertwining and coiling before vanishing at the far end of the horizon.

It was dreamlike and fantastical, beautiful to the point of unreality.

As Song Chen gazed at the night sky, an absurd feeling rose in his heart.

When the meteorite had fallen fifty years ago, humanity had believed the end of the world was upon them.

Scientists had predicted that impact dust would block out the sun, global temperatures would plummet, ecosystems would collapse, Blue Star would face another great extinction, and humanity would follow in the dinosaurs' footsteps.

But what had happened in the end?

The meteorite had indeed brought disasters such as tsunamis, earthquakes, and volcanic eruptions.

Yet after the disasters passed, the world had not been destroyed. Instead, it had gained a substance known as psionic energy.

Animals mutated, humans awakened, and the Martial Arts Era descended.

A meteorite that should have been capable of wiping out civilization had instead opened the road to civilization's evolution.

"How interesting."

Song Chen murmured softly.

He lifted his gaze, looking through the drifting points of light toward the deeper universe.

Where exactly had that meteorite come from?

Was it an asteroid from within the Solar System, or a visitor from distant interstellar space?

Was it a known celestial body, or an unknown existence?

He recalled the various theories from the records.

Some said it was a special celestial body born from cosmic rays. Some said it was the product of an experiment by an advanced civilization. Others said it was not a meteorite at all, but a passage to a higher dimension.

Still others claimed that this had been humanity's destined beginning of the Martial Arts Era.

No one knew the truth.

Humanity had sent out countless exploration teams to search the depths of the Pacific Ocean for meteorite fragments, yet found nothing.

It was as though it had melted away, leaving behind only endless Psionic Particles drifting through the air day and night.

Song Chen watched for a while before withdrawing his gaze.

He lowered his head and looked at his hands.

With a Vitality Value of 0.6, he was not even a Martial Artist. What was the point of thinking about such things?

Tomorrow, he would leave the city.

When faced with real mutant beasts, whether he could return alive and whether he could save up enough Killing Value were both unknown.

"Sleep."

He said it to himself.

Song Chen lay back down and closed his eyes.

Outside the window, Psionic Particles continued to flow, decorating the Poor District's night in a dreamlike splendor, like a fairy-tale world.

But this world's cruelty contained not the faintest trace of fairy-tale color.

The next morning, Song Chen arrived at the gate of Anning City Third Martial Arts High School.

Though it was called a school gate, it looked more like the entrance to a military base.

A towering alloy gate stood there, armed guards stationed on both sides, while drones patrolled back and forth overhead.

A huge school emblem hung above the gate: a sword paired with an open book, with the words "Anning City Third Martial Arts High School" engraved beneath it.

Today was the assembly day for practical training, and quite a few people had already gathered outside the school gate.

They were all third-year students, dressed in various combat uniforms and carrying weapons, their faces filled with either nervousness or excitement.

Song Chen passed through the crowd and headed toward the assembly point.

"Song Chen!"

A familiar voice called out to him.

He turned and saw Lin Qingxue jogging over.

Today, she wore a fitted white combat uniform that outlined her slender waist. Her long hair was tied into a high ponytail, revealing her smooth forehead.

In the sunlight, her skin was so fair it seemed almost translucent.

Lin Qingxue ran up to him. "Why did you come so early?"

"Why are you here? I remember you didn't sign up."

Song Chen replied.

Lin Qingxue looked at him, hesitating as though she wanted to say something.

She took a saber from behind her back.

It was a standard combat saber, with a black alloy scabbard and a grip wrapped in anti-slip cloth, roughly one meter long.

Song Chen recognized the model. It was made of C-grade alloy and was of excellent quality.

Lin Qingxue held the saber out to him. "This is for you."

"My family has an extra one. The sabers the school gives out for free are too poor. You'll easily be at a disadvantage against mutant beasts."

Song Chen looked at her.

Under the sunlight, her eyes were clear and bright, his reflection captured within them.

"Thank you."

He did not stand on ceremony and directly accepted the saber.

The blade was heavier than he had expected, but it felt excellent in his hand.

He drew the blade. Its edge gleamed with cold light; it had been sharpened and was incomparably keen.

Song Chen and Lin Qingxue had a simple connection.

His practical combat and academic grades had long held steady at the top of the class. Lin Qingxue often came to ask him questions, and over time, they had grown closer.