Chapter One: A New Beginning

The sun had not yet risen; the sky was dim, the first light of dawn casting its pale hue. Along the highway, abandoned cars dotted the landscape—some still intact, others reduced to charred skeletons. The ground was streaked with dark, bloodstained patches, scattered remains and broken bones nearby. On either side, the fields, harvested and left with withered grass and rice straw, were dusted with the frost of last night. The entire space was bleak, desolate, and silent, devoid of all signs of life.

A burly man, standing well over one hundred eighty centimeters tall, strode purposefully along the road. His pace was swift, not slower than a runner, with long, frequent strides. The two large packs slung across his back seemed to have no effect on him; he walked with ease, as if unburdened.

Liang Jing, clad in a brownish-red leather outfit, felt no cold. He drew in a deep breath, exhaling a cloud of white vapor; it seemed as though only the sound of his breath remained in the world, mingling with the silent wasteland before him. Even the mutated monsters that had rampaged through the night appeared to have retreated to rest, while those that hunted by day had yet to emerge. The world felt like a realm of death—vast, empty, and still. For a moment, Liang Jing was overtaken by a profound sense of solitude and tranquility, a loneliness he had never known. Another might have curled up in a corner, trembling in fear.

But Liang Jing would not. His strength gave him confidence. For ordinary people, venturing out was unnecessary and fraught with danger; but for him, the “danger” outside was the wellspring of his power. Only by killing monsters could his strength grow, and the faster he moved, the more it increased. At this point, few creatures posed any real threat to his life; even if injured, he could escape without difficulty.

As long as he continued, his power would keep growing. Others avoided combat with mutated monsters whenever possible, but Liang Jing relished it. He sought out monsters, fought and killed them without respite, his strength endlessly increasing, his fighting experience deepening. He could not imagine what he might become in the future; so what if he killed countless beings? He was, after all, a butcher.

He glanced at the roadside, noting plants unlike those he once knew. The transformation of this world was just beginning; every plant and animal could mutate, nothing was as it had been. But survival—and the hope of returning home—remained Liang Jing’s sole thought.

“Let’s get moving,” he murmured, hoisting a sturdy, well-packed canvas bag over his shoulder, his hiking pack bulging with supplies. A short knife was strapped to his waist.

He embarked on a new journey, his destination: the Victory Steel Ball Factory.

It had been a day since he parted ways with Yang Yuyuan and the others. The canvas bag was a recent acquisition, filled with chunks of Steel-Spined Beast meat. Originally, he had intended to take only the beast’s pelt, but after tasting the meat once, he could not bear to discard it. The Steel-Spined Beast, evolved from a domestic dog, had meat as flavorful as before its mutation—perhaps even richer and more tender, with less bone and more flesh. Had he ever tried dog meat larger than pork?

As the saying goes: “When winter comes, dog meat fattens; boil it thrice, and even immortals cannot stand firm.” Winter is the best season for dog meat, as with mutton—both are prized for their tender flavor, rich nutrition, and their ability to warm the body against the cold. The Steel-Spined Beast’s meat surpassed its predecessor, making it an indispensable delicacy in this world where nighttime temperatures dropped to extremes.

But this was not Liang Jing’s main reason for keeping it. The most important benefit was its remarkable effect on his body—restoring energy and stamina rapidly after fatigue. Most crucially, it increased his strength. Even with his formidable physique, Liang Jing could feel the meat’s strengthening effect.

While killing monsters and absorbing their white spiritual light had already made this somewhat redundant for him, he felt it wasteful to simply throw the meat away. Even if he used it only as food, it was far superior to anything without such benefits. So he chopped it up, removed most of the bones—no small feat, given the beast was twice the size of a pig—and seasoned it with salt. Unsatisfied, he found cooking wine, salt, dried orange peel, soy sauce, brown sugar, and other spices, stewing the meat until it absorbed the flavors. The meat was astonishingly tough; after all, the Steel-Spined Beast was a formidable green-ranked monster, much larger than a pig. It was not easily chewed, and ordinary people would struggle to eat it. Liang Jing stewed it for hours, then dried it over fire to prevent spoilage, rendering it much softer. In the future, whether eaten directly or cooked again, it would be a gourmet dish.

Despite carrying several hundred pounds of supplies, Liang Jing felt utterly at ease. The previous night’s relentless battles had greatly enhanced his abilities, even breaking through former limits. His physical attributes had become quantifiable:

Liang Jing: Strength: 11 (1), Agility: 11 (1), Constitution: 11 (1), Spirit: 10 (1).

His physical strength now equaled that of eleven ordinary men, two more than before—a remarkable feat. At first, the white spiritual light boosted his abilities rapidly, as his body’s hunger for power built up over more than twenty years. But as he reached saturation, growth slowed to a normal pace, like a man eating after hunger—still growing, but gradually. The night before, Liang Jing slew nearly a thousand mutated monsters, constantly absorbing their life essence, yet his attributes stagnated at nine times that of a normal person. Only after absorbing the Steel-Spined Beast’s life essence and awakening did he break through to eleven—a testament to the difficulty.

When Yang Yuyuan awakened, his physical attributes increased by only one ordinary person’s worth; at least Liang Jing’s gain was twice that, with a breakthrough to boot.

Liang Jing was in great spirits—this environment, like a “black room,” had no negative effect on him. After a day of rest, his mind was clear and vigorous. He clenched his fists, savoring his strength. Now, he was no weaker than the Steel-Spined Beast; he longed for a rematch. With such power, he was a beast in human form, always ready for battle.

He sighed, glancing at the short knife at his waist. This companion had been with him from the beginning. The battle with the Steel-Spined Beast had demonstrated its limits—against tough enemies, it was almost powerless, nearly costing him his life. But looking at his current attributes—almost at fifteen points of strength, just four more ordinary men’s worth—he would soon be able to wield the golden greatsword, “Baroque’s Sorrow.” Not much further now! Liang Jing was filled with anticipation.

His mood brightened as he thought of the future. His parting with Yang Yuyuan and the others was no longer a source of regret. Most importantly, his awakening of supernatural abilities had made him an Awakened One.

He seemed taller now, too.