The stench of rot was the first thing that crashed into his awareness. It wasn't the sour smell of yesterday's leftovers in a city trash can. It was rotting human flesh, discarded chemicals, rusted metal, and mildewed fabric mingled into a foulness that seemed to seep into his very bones. Pain followed close behind: the sharp sting of glass shards embedded in his back, the tearing agony of a wound on his left arm deep enough to expose bone, and a dull ache rising from deep within him, accompanied by scorching body heat-he had a fever. It left his consciousness like cotton soaked in boiling water, floating and ready to fall apart at the slightest touch. Lin Ye sucked in a sudden breath. The foul air choked him into violent coughing, and every heave of his chest tugged at the wounds on his back until his vision went black with pain. He tried to raise a hand, but his arm felt heavy as lead. What his fingertips touched wasn't the windshield shattered in the crash, but sticky rags, damp and clammy, and hard, uneven scraps of metal. "Cough... cough, cough..." He summoned every ounce of strength and braced himself against the ground, trying to sit up, only for his gaze to freeze the instant he looked down. That wasn't his hand. Its joints were slender, its skin sallow from prolonged malnutrition. Cuts of varying depths and chilblains covered its back, and black dirt packed the spaces beneath its nails. The entire hand was pitifully small, no larger than a ten-year-old child's. It wasn't an illusion. Lin Ye jerked his head down to inspect his body-a small, emaciated torso covered in wounds, faded rags barely concealing his private parts, trouser legs shredded into strips, and exposed calves covered in scars from insect bites and scrapes. This wasn't his twenty-four-year-old body, lean and defined from eight years of kickboxing. Images of the crash tore through the fog in his mind: heading home after overtime on a rainy night, an out-of-control truck hurtling straight toward him, the screech of brakes, shattering glass, and excruciating pain engulfing his entire body in an instant... I died. Then... transmigrated? Lin Ye's heart began pounding wildly. He lifted his head and looked around. Mountains of garbage stretched as far as he could see. Discarded car shells formed heaps, while rotting food, broken appliances, and twisted rebar carpeted an endless wasteland beneath his feet. Black smoke from burning trash stained the gray sky an even darker shade. There was no sun in sight, only faint sounds of fighting and screams from far away, carried by the wind through the putrid air. Beneath him lay a pile of corpses half buried in the garbage. Several badly decomposed bodies lay beside him. Some were nothing but bare bones; others still wore remnants of tattered clothing. What he had been resting his head on wasn't a rag at all, but the stiffened arm of a corpse. His stomach churned violently. Lin Ye rolled onto his side and retched hard against the ground, but his stomach was empty. All he could bring up were a few mouthfuls of acid. Each dry heave tore at his wounds, and cold sweat instantly soaked his rags. Meteor City. The name struck his muddled mind like a thunderbolt. As a die-hard fan who had watched Hunter x Hunter and Pirate King more than a dozen times each, there was no way he wouldn't recognize this place-a lawless land abandoned by the world, with no laws or rules, where the strong preyed on the weak. The birthplace of the Phantom Troupe, a breeding ground for countless evils and madness. He had transmigrated into the world of Hunter x Hunter, starting right in Meteor City, in the body of a ten-year-old child covered in wounds and on the verge of death. No system, no status panel, no beginner's gift pack. All he could rely on were eight years of practical kickboxing experience ingrained in his bones, the theories of Haki training he knew by heart, the training framework of the Six Powers, and his foreknowledge of the next six years of this world's story. "Hah... hah..." Lin Ye gulped down air and forced himself to calm down. Panic and despair would solve nothing. In Meteor City, losing control of his emotions could mean dying the very next second. He had three immediate problems to solve: wounds, water, and food. And he had to stay alive. Gritting his teeth, Lin Ye shifted his body inch by inch and crawled out of the pile of corpses. He forcibly pulled the glass shards from his back, drawing a trail of blood droplets. The pain made him shake all over, but he refused to make a sound. He rummaged through the garbage and found half a bottle of murky water that smelled of rust, along with a piece of hard bread moldy around the edges. These were his first "supplies" in this world. Rather than eat or drink immediately, he dragged his injured body into the gap between two discarded shipping containers. It was less than half a meter wide, concealed beneath thick sheets of discarded plastic. Well hidden, it was one of the few places in Meteor City that offered even a temporary sense of safety. Only after making sure no one else was nearby did Lin Ye lean against the cold container wall and unscrew the bottle. The water was cloudy, with unidentified debris floating in it and a strange smell of rust mixed with chemicals. Before transmigrating, he wouldn't have touched it. Now, it was water that could keep him alive. He took only a small sip to moisten his cracked, bleeding lips, then tightened the cap and carefully put it away. In Meteor City, water was more precious than gold. He had to conserve it. Next came the moldy bread. Lin Ye picked off the mold with his fingers, broke the remaining stone-hard bread into small pieces, and put them into his mouth a little at a time. It was dry and harsh, with a musty taste, and it scraped his throat painfully as he swallowed. Still, he slowly chewed it up and forced it down. This was the energy he needed to survive. Just then, footsteps sounded outside the containers. Two sets, heavy and dragging, accompanied by deliberately lowered voices, drawing closer and closer to his hiding place. "I saw that brat run this way. Fuck, I found that half bottle of water first." "A ten-year-old runt with injuries that bad can't have gone far. Once we find him, just kill him. In Meteor City, weaklings don't deserve anything." Lin Ye instantly held his breath, every muscle in his body tensing. He had been in this world for less than an hour, and death had already come knocking. He shifted slowly behind the plastic sheet, his right hand quietly reaching for a sharp-edged piece of metal beside his feet. He had deliberately picked it up while crawling over here. Its edge had been ground sharp enough to slit a throat. The footsteps drew closer, and two tall figures appeared at the entrance to the gap. They were adult men in ragged clothes, with vicious scars on their faces and rusty steel pipes in their hands. Their eyes swept every corner of the narrow space like those of starving wolves. Soon, their gazes settled on Lin Ye behind the plastic sheet. "Found him!" One man grinned, exposing a mouthful of rotten yellow-black teeth. "Hand over the water and bread, runt, and I'll make it quick." The other man had already raised his pipe and was advancing. The gap was so narrow that he had to turn sideways, a cruel smile spreading across his face. "Quit wasting words. Kill him, and it's all ours anyway. With that tender flesh, he might even feed us for a couple of days." Lin Ye's heart hammered like a drum, his palms slick with cold sweat. He had the body of a ten-year-old, was wounded all over, and still had a fever. Facing him were two armed adult men, hardened survivors who had spent who knew how many years fighting their way through Meteor City. His chances in a head-on fight were slim. But he had nowhere to retreat. In Meteor City, one step back meant death. The man's pipe was already swinging toward his head with a whistle of air. If it landed, his skull would burst like a watermelon. At the instant the pipe reached him, Lin Ye moved. The muscle memory etched into him by eight years of kickboxing came into full play. He dropped low and slid along the container wall. The pipe skimmed his scalp and slammed into the container with an ear-splitting clang, scattering sparks. Before the man could react, Lin Ye used the momentum of his sliding step to drive his body into the man's leg. With every ounce of strength he had, he slammed his right shoulder into the side of the man's knee. A sharp crack rang out, followed by an agonized scream. The man's leg bent at an unnatural angle, and he lost his balance, crashing heavily to the ground. The other man cursed furiously and charged, swinging his pipe. Lin Ye didn't look back. Using the fallen man's body as cover, he rolled behind him and pressed the metal shard against his throat. "Don't move." Lin Ye's voice was hoarse and weak with fever, yet chillingly cold. His hand was steady. The metal edge had already cut the man's skin, drawing beads of blood. The charging man stopped dead, his face filled with disbelief. He had never expected a dying ten-year-old brat to move so quickly or act so ruthlessly. The man with the shard against his throat trembled all over, begging nonstop. "Don't... don't kill me... you can have the water and bread... I won't do it again... let me go..." Lin Ye's breathing was rapid. His movements had reopened the wounds on his back, and blood soaked his rags, running down his spine. His hand was shaking now, not from fear, but because his body had reached its limit. He looked at the man pleading before him, at the fear in his eyes-and the vicious intent to kill buried beneath it. He knew that in Meteor City, if he let this man go, the man would stab him in the back the very next second. There was no mercy here, no room for a soft heart. It was kill or be killed. Lin Ye's gaze turned cold. His hand clenched around the metal shard and drove it hard. Warm blood splashed across his face. The man's body twitched twice, then went completely still. Seeing his companion die before his eyes, the remaining man was terrified out of his wits. He turned to flee, but the gap was too narrow. The moment he turned, Lin Ye rushed at him and plunged the metal shard into his lower back. The man screamed and fell facedown. Lin Ye straddled his back, pinned his head down, and drove the shard into his back over his heart again and again, until the man stopped struggling entirely and his body turned cold. The world fell silent. Only Lin Ye's ragged breathing echoed through the cramped gap. He stared at his blood-covered hands and the two still-warm corpses on the ground. His stomach churned again. He lurched aside and vomited violently onto the ground, bringing up every bit of the bread he had just eaten, until nothing remained but yellow-green bile. He had killed someone. Within his first hour in this world, he had killed two people to survive. There was none of the cold decisiveness found in transmigration novels, none of that numb indifference-only physical revulsion and an overwhelming psychological shock. His hands wouldn't stop shaking, his entire body felt cold, and he could barely stand. But he knew he had done nothing wrong. In this abandoned place, survival meant getting blood on his hands. Lin Ye leaned against the container wall and slowly slid to the ground. He looked out at the gray sky and the endless mountains of garbage. The confusion and fear in his eyes gradually faded, leaving only calm and resolve. I'm going to survive. I'm going to get out of Meteor City. I'm going to stay alive in this world.
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