Everyone living in the Safe Zone knew that the lower an area's number, the more prosperous it was.
In the low-numbered areas, powerful factions were deeply intertwined, talented people emerged one after another, and Sequence Ability Users even outnumbered ordinary people.
Areas numbered ten or below bustled with traffic and glittered with nightlife, like sleepless cities untouched by the apocalypse.
Area No. 4 was the sole exception.
Compared with the other low-numbered areas, Area No. 4 was beyond merely shabby. It was downright dilapidated.
If its number hadn't been posted on the streets, people would have assumed it belonged to the four-digit range.
Area No. 4 had once been a thriving, developed area too.
But ever since Northern Glory University had been shut down overnight more than three years ago, Area No. 4 had become like an old ship adrift on the ocean with no one to repair it, sinking deeper every day.
Still, with no powerful factions based there, life was considerably more peaceful.
Like a small town deep in the mountains before the apocalypse, it had its own rules for survival.
A clamor of voices spilled from a mahjong parlor whose windows had been blackened by residue from the smokers' secondhand smoke.
A [Do not disturb] sign hung on the door of its only private room.
Those outside could hear the sound of mahjong being played inside, but not a single voice.
Someone whispered, "Nobody says a word when they chow, pong, kong, or call ready. Are the four people playing in there today all mute?"
"Get out of here with that nonsense! They're important people who just don't like talking much!"
Having collected a sizable service fee from the private room's guests, the owner wouldn't let the down-and-outs playing in the main room gossip about the big