Chapter 0001: Rejected

Lower City.

Zone F32.

The massive screen directly above Central Plaza flickered constantly due to insufficient power, its display frozen on 23:59.

The square was packed with people. Every pair of eyes was fixed on that screen, waiting for the numbers to change.

Ning Fan stood among the crowd, his expression calm on the surface.

But the fist clenched tight at his side gave away the tension churning inside him.

Every year on the first of January, the Upper City selected one outstanding individual from each zone in the Lower City to be brought up.

For every Lower City resident, this was the highest honor imaginable — and the only chance to change one's fate against all odds.

Legend had it that the Upper City had warm sunlight, clear rivers, and fresh air.

Even the dogs up there had clean, healthy food.

Most people didn't believe that.

How could the dogs of the Upper City possibly live better than the people of the Lower City?

At last, the screen flickered.

A name appeared.

[Sun Wenhui]

Ning Fan's fist unclenched. The light in his eyes dimmed.

The square erupted from silence into noise.

"Damn! Who the hell is Sun Wenhui? What gives him the right?!"

Beside him, a chubby boy around Ning Fan's age frowned with open displeasure and nudged him. "Ning Fan, why wasn't it you?"

Why wasn't it me?

Ha.

I'd like to know that myself.

Ning Fan's eyes stayed locked on the screen.

A month ago, during the selection exam, Ning Fan had scored full marks on all nine assessments.

Which meant no one could have done better.

In that moment, even Ning Fan himself had believed — there was no one else in this year's selection who could beat him for a spot in the Upper City.

But that glaring name on the screen seemed to mock his overconfidence, still blinking without pause.

"Ning Fan, I found something out."

Just then, a boy with small glasses squeezed through the crowd to Ning Fan's side. He wiped the sweat from his forehead, visibly indignant. "Word is, this Sun Wenhui has one thirty-second Upper City bloodline."

When Sun Wenhui's name appeared, Ning Fan hadn't reacted.

But hearing Little Glasses say that this was the reason he'd been passed over…

Ning Fan laughed.

It was a helpless laugh, tinged with something like relief.

"Ning Fan, are you alright?" Little Fatty thought Ning Fan had snapped.

"I'm fine."

Ning Fan shrugged. "We don't have any Upper City blood. Losing to someone who does — can't really call that unfair."

"Are those Upper City bigwigs out of their minds? They pass on a Ninefold Mastery scholar like you and pick some one thirty-second mixed-blood instead?!"

Little Glasses was fuming on his behalf.

They both knew how hard Ning Fan had pushed himself his whole life.

And all of that effort had been undone by a mere one thirty-second of Upper City bloodline.

If it were them, they'd have been cursing up a storm already.

"It's fine, Ning Fan. If not this year, then next year — we're only eighteen, there's plenty of time."

Little Fatty offered what comfort he could. "I refuse to believe another half-blood will show up next year to compete with you. Your ability speaks for itself!"

"No."

Ning Fan said with a quiet smile. "I'm not planning to try again next year."

Little Fatty and Little Glasses both froze.

"My mom can't wait another year."

Ning Fan murmured, as if thinking to himself. "I'm going to become a Walker."

***

On the way home, Ning Fan's smile had already faded.

Every street corner buzzed with talk about the Upper City selection results.

Sun Wenhui's name was the biggest topic in Zone F32 that day.

The sound of it grated on him.

When he got home, Ning Fan went to the bedside.

His mother was still unconscious.

In the Lower City, even breathing was lethal.

The air here was laced with a harmful substance known as Miasma.

Prolonged exposure to Miasma turned the human body into an unstable time bomb — liable to collapse without warning.

His mother's body had already collapsed.

The reason Ning Fan had entered the Upper City selection was simple: if chosen, he would receive the Special Remedy distributed free by the Upper City.

The Special Remedy that treated Miasmic Poison.

"Mom, I'm sorry."

Ning Fan took his mother's dry, withered hand in his. "I wasn't selected.

Mom, the Upper City people seem to prefer those who share their blood — even if it's just one thirty-second.

Honestly, I'm not ready to accept it. I was the only one in all of Zone F32 to score full marks across all nine assessments. And I still got cut.

I'm going to become a Walker. It's the only way I can earn enough to buy you the Special Remedy.

I know — being a Walker means going out into the wilds. And out there… it's dangerous.

Truth is, I'm scared. I'm scared I won't come back. If I really die out there, what will you do…

But as long as there's still a chance for you to get better, even if it's a gamble, I have to try.

Mom, I still want… you to pat my head and tell me I'm a good kid."

Eyes red, Ning Fan talked to his mother for a long time, until a thin sliver of light crept through the window.

At last, he rubbed his eyes, stood up, and picked up the only gift his mother had ever given him when he was a child.

It was a beat-up sword that looked more like a fire poker — jet black all over, radiating cheapness.

"Mom, I'm leaving."

Knowing she wouldn't respond, Ning Fan still said it softly as he said goodbye. "Wait for me to come back."

But just as he was about to step out the door, he suddenly noticed something — a corner of paper peeking out from beneath the edge of his mother's bed.

Curious, Ning Fan walked over.

Could it be…

A letter his mother had written for him during a moment of consciousness?

He pulled the paper free. The title at the top made him pause.

"Bloodline Analysis Report"

Ning Fan was puzzled. He had no memory of ever having his bloodline tested.

And yet his name was clearly printed on it.

Subject: Ning Fan.

Result: No Upper City Bloodline detected.

Reading that, Ning Fan gave a bitter smile.

Of course he knew he had no Upper City bloodline. Otherwise…

Why would the Upper City have rejected him?

But just as he was about to put the paper away, he turned it over — and found a handwritten note scrawled on the back: Not of Lower City Bloodline either.

After those words, a large question mark had been drawn in red ink.

Ning Fan stared at that question mark, stunned.

Not having Upper City bloodline — that he expected.

But not Lower City bloodline either…

Then what am I?

Proofreader & Editor: Fat Goose 🪶