2026-03-19 17:02:52Chapter 1
"I truly crossed over..."
Surveying the cluttered room, Mo Fan let out a heavy sigh as he processed the flood of new memories.
He was a soul from Earth, but not the Earth of old. In his original timeline, a 5060 meteorite strike unleashed a viral plague that toppled civilization and turned the masses into shambles. Mo Fan had perished five years into that apocalypse, swallowed by a relentless tide of undead.
The phantom sensation of teeth tearing through his muscle was still sickeningly vivid.
"At least... I’m breathing again."
Inspecting his new limbs, Mo Fan felt a surge of genuine relief. He had inhabited the body of a young man who shared his name, though this new reality was arguably more cutthroat than a zombie outbreak.
In the year 3200 of the Cetral Galaxy Era, the world had been punctured by spatial rifts. Monstrous entities poured through, immune to the world's nuclear arsenal due to a mysterious atmospheric interference that fried high-tech electronics. Conventional lead and steel were useless against beasts that could level mountains.
Humanity was on the brink until they discovered Yuan Qi.
By channeling this energy, humans could evolve into Warriors, breaking past mortal limits to fight back. However, this path required innate talent. High talent meant limitless potential; no talent meant a life of insignificance. Thanks to the few who could cultivate, humanity managed to carve out fortified bases in the wasteland.
"A world of both tragedy and fortune," Mo Fan murmured.
In his previous life, humans stayed fragile while the monsters grew stronger. Here, there was a fighting chance.
"The only problem is..." Mo Fan stared at his palms, his expression darkening. "This body is a blank slate. No talent at all."
In a world ruled by the strong, lacking talent was a death sentence. The previous owner of this body had spiraled into despair and eventually withered away, allowing Earth's Mo Fan to take his place.
Click.
The door swung open. A young woman stepped in—roughly eighteen, striking and elegant, though her gaze was as cold as frost. She offered a curt "I'm back," dropped a bundle on the table, and retreated to her room without a second glance.
Mo Fan searched his mind for her identity: Shen Lang.
Their families had been close-knit warrior comrades who had betrothed the two when they were toddlers. Two years ago, a joint expedition claimed the lives of both sets of parents. The original Mo Fan, blinded by grief, blamed Shen Lang’s parents for the tragedy and projected that hatred onto her.
Despite his hostility, Shen Lang had moved in to care for him. While her own martial talent flourished, she spent her days hunting dangerous beasts just to bring back nutrient-rich meat, hoping to artificially boost Mo Fan’s constitution.
The original owner had met her kindness with insults and accusations.
"He didn't know how good he had it," Mo Fan thought, shaking his head. Coming from a wasteland where betrayal was the norm, he found her loyalty staggering. "Well, I'm the one in the driver's seat now. I'll live this life properly."
Stung by hunger, Mo Fan approached the table to prepare the beast meat she had brought home. But as his eyes landed on the carcass, his vision flickered.
Ghostly text manifested in the air above the creature:
[Target: Level 1 Mid-Grade Beast – Purple Electric Sable!]
[Status: Harvestable!]
[Begin Extraction?]
"Is this... a 'Cheat Code'?"
"Or perhaps, my own latent ability manifesting?"
Staring at the shimmering script, Mo Fan didn't panic. Five years of surviving the zombie apocalypse and a trip through the fabric of time had forged a mind of tempered steel. He analyzed the situation with cold precision.
"The prompt appears over the beast, but I didn't see anything like it over Shen Lang earlier."
"Does it only target monsters? Or..." He squinted at the carcass of the Purple Electric Sable. "Can I only harvest from the dead?"
With limited data, he couldn't be certain. But in a world this cutthroat, a hidden edge—whatever its nature—was a godsend.
Mo Fan decided to put it to the test.
He stepped toward the sable, reached out his hand, and commanded internally: 'Harvest!'
Immediately, a golden radiance coalesced around his palm, reaching into the creature's remains. When his hand returned, it cradled a flickering arc of violet electricity.
[Harvest Successful!]
[Acquired: Inferior-Grade Thunder Attribute Talent!]
[Would you like to integrate now?]
"A Thunder Attribute!" Mo Fan’s eyes widened in shock.
In the centuries since humanity began refining Yuan Qi, a rigorous classification system had emerged. Most Warriors only possessed "Neutral" physiques, ranked from Weak to High. However, those born with Attribute Talents were the true elites.
Beyond the basic five elements (Metal, Wood, Water, Fire, Earth) lay rare variants like Wind, Light, and the devastating Thunder.
An attribute didn't just boost raw power; it granted an affinity that colored every strike. Earth increased defense and mass; Wind granted supernatural speed. At higher levels, these talents could even unlock innate "Spells" or "Techniques."
An Attribute Warrior was inherently superior to a Neutral Warrior of the same rank. And now, Mo Fan held the power of lightning in his grasp.
"Integrate!" he commanded without a second thought.
Boom!
It felt as though a thunderbolt had detonated within his chest. Searing arcs of electricity surged through his veins, lashing at his muscles and marrow. It was an agonizing process of destruction and rebirth.
Mo Fan ground his teeth, refusing to let even a whimper escape.
Fortunately, the storm subsided as quickly as it had arrived. The agony drained away, replaced by an intoxicating sense of lightness. His heart thundered like a war drum, pumping empowered blood to his extremities. Faint purple sparks danced across his skin before fading into his pores.
He exhaled, drenched in sweat, and focused his will.
Zzt! A jagged spark of violet light crackled between his fingers.
"It worked!" Mo Fan grinned. He could feel a transformative strength coursing through him. He needed to know exactly how much he had changed.
Since Shen Lang was a dedicated cultivator, the apartment featured a private training room equipped with a Strength Testing Machine. It was a massive, two-meter-tall monolith powered by energy crystals—an expensive piece of hardware usually reserved for high-ranking military academies.
On the display, a previous record remained: 8,365 lbs.
"The limit for a peak Martial Disciple is 10,000 lbs," Mo Fan noted. "Shen Lang is hitting over 8,000... she’s right on the doorstep of becoming a true Warrior."
The hierarchy was clear: Martial Disciple, Warrior, Martial Master, Grandmaster. To reach the Warrior realm before twenty was the mark of a prodigy. At seventeen, Shen Lang was a monster among peers.
"Now, let's see where I stand."
Mo Fan took a deep breath, planted his feet, and threw a raw physical punch at the target.
Thud!
The machine hummed, and the digits stabilized: 1,527 lbs.
Mo Fan was stunned. This was his raw physical strength without any training, purely from the talent's passive enhancement.
"Now, with the Thunder Attribute..."
He narrowed his eyes, channeling the crackling energy from his core into his fist. He swung again, his arm trailing a blur of violet light.
BANG!
The machine groaned under the impact. The numbers blurred, spiraling upward past the 3,000-pound mark before finally locking in:
3,089 lbs.
"Three thousand pounds!" Mo Fan’s heart raced. "That’s the strength of a Mid-Stage Martial Disciple!"
The Thunder Talent was terrifying. It hadn't just given him a base of 1,500 lbs; it practically doubled his output when activated. And this was only an "Inferior" grade talent.
What if he could find Low-grade, Mid-grade, or even higher?
Driven by a new sense of possibility, he rushed back to the kitchen and looked at the Purple Electric Sable again.
"Can I harvest more than once?"
He extended his golden palm once more. 'Harvest!'
The light dipped into the carcass again, this time pulling out a small, glowing crimson bead.
[Harvest Successful!]
[Obtained…]
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