1: Chapter 1: Starting with an F-rank? Risking my life for that million!

A dim, greyish light.

It hovered lifelessly in the center of the Awakening Crystal Ball.

On the playground of Jianghai City’s Third High School, the previously restless crowd instantly fell silent. Thousands of eyes stared fixedly at the thin figure on the high platform.

"Lin Fan, F-Rank Talent, non-attribute."

The Awakening Mentor's voice was devoid of any emotion, mechanically pronouncing the death sentence. The recording pen in his hand drew a heavy line across the roster, as if crossing out a scrapped part. "Next."

The dead silence below the stage lasted for less than three seconds.

"Pfft... F-Rank? I thought this bookworm was holding back some ultimate move, but it turns out he just laid a massive turd!"

"Hilarious. With an F-Rank, even a construction site would find him too weak to carry bricks. He's finished for life."

"Is this the so-called number one in theory class? No matter how strong your theory is, what's the use? In this world, talent is life!"

Jeers surged in from all directions like a tide, instantly drowning Lin Fan.

Lin Fan stood on the stage, his fingers stiffly withdrawing from the crystal ball. His fingertips were ice-cold.

F-Rank.

The lowest-tier trash talent in this world. The cultivation speed was one-hundredth that of an ordinary person, and the upper limit was locked at the Third Grade of the Martial Apprentice rank. In this era of the invasion of ten thousand races where martial arts reigned supreme, F-Rank meant one could only be at the bottom of society for a lifetime, not even qualified to be cannon fodder.

He took a deep breath as the sounds of mockery reached him from everywhere.

If he hadn't been number one in theory, there wouldn't be such ridicule. If he didn't have a younger sister waiting for him, being an ordinary person wouldn't have mattered much.

Turning around, he stepped off the stage.

Every step felt like treading on cotton, hollow and weak.

"Yo, isn't this our great genius Lin?"

A figure blocked his path.

Wang Teng wore an expensive, custom-made training suit. Pinned to his chest was a newly issued B-Rank Talent badge, which stung the eyes in the sunlight.

Behind him followed several lackeys, looking at Lin Fan with the eyes one would use for a stray dog.

"Move."

"F-Rank? That's just trash waste." Wang Teng didn't make way; instead, he took a step closer, looking down at Lin Fan from above, his handsome face filled with a sense of superiority.

"In the future, don't tell anyone you were Wang Teng's classmate. I can't afford to lose face like that. Got it? Trash."

A hand slapped heavily onto Lin Fan's shoulder. The force was so great it nearly knocked Lin Fan to his knees.

The physical constitution bonus brought by a B-Rank Talent meant Wang Teng's strength was already double that of Lin Fan's.

Lin Fan gritted his teeth, holding on with all his might to keep from falling. His nails dug deep into his palms, and blood seeped through the gaps between his fingers, causing a piercing pain.

Fight back?

With what?

In this world where strength was everything, the weak didn't even have the right to be angry.

"Boring," Wang Teng sneered. He pulled out a tissue and wiped the hand that had touched Lin Fan's shoulder as if wiping away something filthy, then casually tossed the crumpled paper in Lin Fan's face. "Scram."

The paper ball hit his face. It didn't hurt, but it stung with humiliation.

Lin Fan didn't look at the paper ball on the ground, nor did he look at Wang Teng's arrogant departing figure. He just silently bypassed the crowd and, with heavy steps, walked out of the school gates.

...

Jianghai City First People's Hospital, Intensive Care Unit.

The smell of disinfectant was strong enough to be suffocating. The white walls were like four barriers, isolating all hope outside.

"Mr. Lin, this is the final ultimatum."

The attending physician pushed up his glasses and slapped a payment notice onto the desk, his tone even colder than the Awakening Mentor's.

"Your sister Lin Xiaoya's Genetic Collapse Syndrome has reached the late stage. Her gene chains are breaking at an accelerated rate. If Gene Restructuring Surgery isn't performed within a week, her body will completely crumble like a sand sculpture."

"The surgery fee... how much?" Lin Fan heard his own voice trembling.

"One million."

The doctor spat out an astronomical figure. "And that's the minimum cost after medical insurance deductions. I know you've just awakened and it's hard. But the hospital isn't a charity. If the money isn't in place within a week, we'll have to shut down the life-support pod."

One million.

For Lin Fan, whose home was empty and whose parents were both dead, this wasn't just a number—it was a mountain weighing down on his spine.

His entire savings added up to less than two thousand yuan.

Lin Fan didn't know how he walked out of the doctor's office. He arrived at the door of ward 302 like a walking corpse and looked inside through the glass window.

Inside the life-support pod, a girl so thin it made one's heart ache lay quietly. She was covered in tubes. Her once jet-black long hair had become sparse due to chemotherapy, and her face was as pale as paper.

As if sensing her brother's gaze, the girl struggled to open her eyes and, through the glass, forced a sweet smile.

That smile was pure and flawless, yet it felt like a rusty saw tearing ruthlessly at Lin Fan's heart.

"Big brother... it doesn't hurt..."

Her mouth was clearly forming those words.

Lin Fan turned around abruptly, leaning his back against the cold wall, gasping for breath.

His eyes were bloodshot, yet he couldn't shed a single tear.

F-Rank Talent.

Penniless.

One week's time.

This was simply an impossible task!

Go beg Wang Teng? That scumbag would only make him kneel on the ground and bark like a dog before throwing him two hundred yuan to humiliate him. Go to a loan shark? A trash with an F-Rank Talent wouldn't even meet the threshold for a loan shark.

What other way was there?

What else could get him a million in a week?

Lin Fan's gaze passed through the window at the end of the corridor, looking toward the greyish sky at the edge of the city.

That was the Wasteland Zone.

A buffer zone between humanity and the Ten Thousand Races Battlefield, filled with energy, mutated beasts, and the wreckage of the old era. It was synonymous with death, but also a gold-consuming den for sudden wealth.

It was said that someone had picked up an alloy battle saber from the old era at the edge of the wasteland and sold it for three hundred thousand.

Someone had dug up an energy core left behind by an alien race and became rich overnight.

Of course, more people had become alien feces, with not even a bone fragment left.

"I'm a Quasi-Martial Apprentice. Although I'm only F-Rank, as long as I'm careful and stay only on the outermost perimeter..."

Lin Fan looked at his trembling hands and suddenly clenched them tight.

There was no choice.

Rather than watching Xiaoya die in pain, it was better to take this miserable life and gamble it all!

"If I win the gamble, we live together. If I lose, big brother will accompany you on the road to the Yellow Springs."

...

Outside Jianghai City, at the edge of Wasteland Zone 1.

The sky appeared dark red, and the air was filled with the stench of rotting corpses. Among the broken walls and ruins, withered yellow weeds shivered in the wind.

Lin Fan crouched low, moving slowly through an abandoned construction site.

He tightly gripped a rusty iron knife in his hand. He had scavenged it from a second-hand market for fifty yuan, and there were even several notches on the blade.

Sweat slid down his forehead and into his eyes, stinging sharply. He didn't dare wipe it, his eyes staring fixedly at every inch of the ground beneath his feet.

Three hours had passed.

Except for a pile of worthless rusty rebar and broken concrete blocks, he had found nothing.

"Damn it... is it true that people at the bottom are really destined to just accept their fate?"

Lin Fan flipped over a heavy cement slab, only to find a few startled Corpse Beetles scurrying away. A strong sense of frustration welled up in his heart, making him almost want to roar out loud.

Just then.

Shasha.

An extremely slight friction sound came from behind him.

The hair all over Lin Fan's body instantly stood on end, and a chill rushed from his tailbone straight to his crown. That was the biological instinct's warning of death.

Without any hesitation, he rolled on the spot, scrambling toward a piece of cover on the side.

Bang!

A dark shadow slammed heavily onto the spot where he had just been standing. The cement ground was gouged with three deep furrows by sharp claws, sending sparks flying.

Lin Fan scrambled up quickly, leaning his back against a half-broken wall. The hand holding the knife trembled uncontrollably.

In front of him, three pairs of green eyes lit up in the shadows.

Rot Wolves.

The lowest-level cannon fodder creatures of the Ten Thousand Races Battlefield. They were the size of calves, their fur was ulcerated, and they dripped with foul-smelling pus. Although they were only "Servant-Rank" exotic beasts, their bite force was enough to crush steel pipes, and their speed far exceeded that of ordinary humans.

A single Rot Wolf required three fully armed, experienced Quasi-Martial Apprentices to handle.

And now, there were three here.

"Growl..."

The lead Rot Wolf let out a low growl from its throat, foul-smelling saliva dripping from its fangs. It saw the weakness of the human before it—the contempt of a hunter for its prey.

Run?

With the speed of an F-Rank Talent, he was like a snail in front of a Rot Wolf.

Fight?

A rusty iron knife and a malnourished high school student.

A certain-death situation.

Despair, like a black tide, instantly submerged his reason. Images of Wang Teng's mocking face and the doctor's cold ultimatum flashed through Lin Fan's mind, finally settling on his sister's pale, smiling face.

"I'm not willing to accept this..."

Lin Fan squeezed those words through his teeth. His eyes were bloodshot, yet he was no longer trembling.

Since it was death either way, even if he died, he would knock out one of this beast's teeth!

"Come on!"

He let out a hoarse roar and, instead of retreating, he advanced. Gripping the knife with both hands, he used all his strength to slash at the alpha wolf that was lunging toward him.

This strike had no technique, only the resolution to perish together.

Clang!

The sound of metal clashing was ear-piercing.

The rusty iron knife slashed onto the Rot Wolf's hard skull, only opening a shallow bloody wound before—

Crack.

The fragile blade could not withstand the counter-force and snapped in the middle.