Luoqie Star belonged to the Fourth Administrative Region of the Star River Federation. It was the most remote planet in the Federation's territory. A planet that should have had only a designation had instead been named after Major General Luoqie, the highest-ranking officer to fall in several brutal wars defending the Federation. Though it was an exception, it had still been forgotten by most people.
Thick space junk drifted around the planet. The only safe route was a special passage reserved for planetary administrators. Every two months, a shipment of supplies below the Federation's average standard was delivered to the planet. Most people still struggled at the edge of hunger and poverty.
In District 22, the central district was still brightly lit and bustling with voices. Evening was approaching. Beneath the gray, gloomy sky, two utterly different scenes—liveliness and deathly silence—coexisted in strange harmony.
Inside an abandoned factory thirty kilometers from the district, disorderly industrial waste lay everywhere. Fragments of battle-damaged mechs beyond repair were piled all over the place as well. On this resource-starved planet, those in power had neither the energy nor the goodwill to deal with this garbage. The free labor from the slums would take care of these troublesome problems for them, while also saving the government a huge sum of money. Why wouldn't they?
The surrounding wilderness was silent, broken only occasionally by a few squeaks. In one corner of the factory, sparks flashed from time to time. A campfire burned quietly, casting a tall figure's shadow against the ruined walls.
Mu Fan was seventeen. He did not know who his parents were. His adoptive parents had told him they found him behind a trash bin while scavenging. Dawn had just been breaking then, and the light of the star had shone evenly and gently along the horizon onto the baby's face. When his adoptive father picked him up, he found two tags that had fallen from him: one was a dark yellow wooden tag engraved with "Mu," while the other was an ink-black metal tag engraved with "Fan."
Without giving much thought to the order of the two characters, his adoptive father, who had fortunately read a few books, named him Mu Fan because it rolled off the tongue. Mu Fan had not asked his adoptive parents when he was too young to understand. By the time he was a little older, they had gone scavenging during a space pirate attack and been taken by a stray shot. Mu Fan never got another chance to ask about the details. He had been ten that year.
Mu Fan did not talk much, but he understood what needed to be done. He did not cry after receiving the news. He returned to their dilapidated shack, found the torn gloves they had picked up while scavenging, then went out and began doing labor for anyone nearby, whether he knew them or not. Hauling goods, washing dishes at restaurants on the outskirts, delivering packages for citizens of the formal city district, then returning to search through the factory's heaps of garbage for scrap to sell... Now that he was alone, he had to survive even more.
It had been seven years since his parents died. Mu Fan glanced up at the campfire before lowering his head and continuing to sharpen a small knife that gleamed coldly. He had never paid much attention to his appearance. His black hair was messy, his body not particularly strong, though he was fairly tall. When he lifted his eyelids, brown pupils were revealed. But upon closer inspection, one would find that flashes of red sometimes flickered deep within those brown eyes, like roses—or blood that had settled.
By now, the weather in District 22 had turned cool. Mu Fan wore a canvas jacket and work pants stained with grease. Taking advantage of his evening rest, he had come out to sharpen his weapon, a dagger ground from industrial alloy. He was at an age when his body was growing and he was easily hungry. Each week, he saved the money he earned from odd jobs to buy bundled books at the secondhand book market. The rest could only buy enough of the lowest-grade synthetic food to fill a normal person for two meals a day, barely enough to keep him from starving to death. If he did not search for food himself, things would remain this way forever.
One day, while returning home, he saw an old vulture taking off not far away. Curious, he watched a black shadow fall from midair. It was half a Plant Rat. In the leaping flames, Mu Fan tasted meat for the first time.
One of the survival rules Mu Fan set for himself was to go hunting twice a week. Large animals or small, alive or dead—any catch was a victory. He needed that energy too badly, because he could clearly feel every cell in his body craving that kind of flesh.
With a sizzle, the final spark flew out. Mu Fan put away the dagger, lightly cradled its blade in his left hand, and examined it against the firelight. He narrowed his eyes, satisfaction appearing on his face. Tonight—he was going to eat meat!
The nights on Luoqie Star were cold as steel, making people shiver to their marrow.
Yet Mu Fan walked through the wilderness bare-chested. Scars crisscrossed his body like medals from countless battles. His slender frame bore naturally beautiful muscle lines, leaving no doubt about the explosive power hidden within it.
Mu Fan did not feel the cold his neighbors always spoke of. Instead, he only felt a chill that made his mind incomparably calm and clear. He enjoyed it. He did not know why he could never eat his fill, yet his endurance seemed to be several times that of the people around him... perhaps even more. He had no concept of it, nor any interest in asking.
Under cover of darkness, Mu Fan drew no one's attention as he ran to the edge of a forest fifteen kilometers from the factory. In the quiet night, he seemed to merge with the land itself. Only the heat steaming from his body proved that he was there.
There was a river here. The water, bone-chilling to others at night, was Mu Fan's favorite "treasure spot" for washing the blood and sweat from his body. If he was lucky, he could even catch a plump fish in the water. Well, it tasted good raw too, as long as it was meat!
Mu Fan's goal today was to hunt a large animal. He could feel the hunger in his body growing stronger and stronger. The two Plant Rats that had once sufficed were now nowhere near enough to meet his body's needs. He needed to eat more meat.
This forest was already far from the district. On a remote, poor, and backward planet like Luoqie Star, the administrators did not have the resources to deploy many satellites for monitoring. The few human cities fought against nature, while this forest retained much of its original character. There were stronger beasts here, which meant richer food for him!
With a whoosh, Mu Fan stopped. His bright eyes gleamed at that moment. Standing at the forest's edge, he caught the scent of a beast not far inside. There was a Mutant Beast there! No mistake—the powerful scent, the violent savagery he could smell in the Mutant Beast's blood. His stomach rumbled again. Mu Fan licked his lips, red light surging in his eyes!
He wanted to eat meat!
Desire was humanity's driving force. When a body in the midst of frantic growth encountered hunger, it was enough to unleash unimaginable motivation in a person—let alone Mu Fan, who already knew the taste of meat!
He closed his eyes, then opened them again. The faint, strange red glow in Mu Fan's eyes had completely faded, but his gaze was incomparably bright. The darkness around him seemed to vanish. The forest, insects, and Fei Niao all came clearly into view. He did not know when he had discovered that he possessed exceptionally sharp night vision. After accidentally using that ability to find several Plant Rats at night, he began deliberately training himself to master this seemingly heaven-sent gift.
In the night sky, thick clouds blocked the light reflected by the planet.
A "meteor" streaked through the atmosphere, flashing with light above the clouds...
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