Lu Yan’s downtime, beyond reading, archery, and watching horror movies, occasionally included binge-watching romance dramas from the last century. His primary goal was to study how humans normally express emotion. When he was twenty, watching the protagonist cry on TV and plead, “Please, don’t fight over me,” he had scoffed, thinking that since they were already brawling, saying such things was pointless.

Now, Lu Yan also wanted to shout, “Please, don’t fight over me.” But the situation didn’t permit it.

“Give my sister back!”

Lu Jiahe’s tone was exceptionally violent, the flames at his sides burning endlessly, like a hideous demon crawling out of the red lotus hell. Tang Xun’an drew his blade, the reflected light weaving into a web—resplendent, brilliant, yet filled with the aura of death. Everything around him began to weather and decay.

Time is the most impartial yet cruel force in the world. Rows of pitch-black dragon scales emerged from beneath Tang Xun’an’s skin. He raised an eyebrow and said, “You want her? Come and take her yourself.”

It was a clash of needles against wheat, a spark hitting dry tinder.

[If I were you, I’d choose a safe spot to watch the show. Both of these guys are lunatics when they get desperate. You’re too weak; it’s easy to get caught in the crossfire.]

Hearing this, Lu Yan instinctively retreated from the battlefield, asking as he ran, “System? How are you back?”

Strange to say, as he moved, the sea of flames automatically yielded a safe path for him. The scene was spectacular, like a mythical parting of the Red Sea.

[The energy fluctuations here are too strong. The Dream Eater feels it can no longer control the dream, so it had to bolt to avoid being taken out by Tang Xun’an. Plus, the Wall of Grudge is about to appear… In short, I’m safe.]

[Oh, I know you must be dying to know who the Dream Eater is. It’s that Lin Sinan from your text message. He’s got a knack for cheap tricks, but if he runs into a combat-type and his true form is discovered, he’s just a little brother.]

The system sighed with deep emotion: [A normal person would definitely be dead in this kind of instance. Because in a brother’s dream, the sister is destined to die no matter what. He couldn’t save Lu Yan years ago, so naturally, he can’t save you now.]

[After the sister died, Lu Jiahe’s mind cracked. He always felt his sister had just run away from home. He was infected when he was very young, plagued by bad luck, and it wasn’t until after his sister died that it erupted, turning him into a pollutant. He walked through countless streets looking for her, and unfortunately, 8 years ago, he ran into that wall. You are his three-thousand-six-hundredth reincarnation.]

[Oh, right, did I forget to give you the brother’s profile?]

[Lu Jiahe, codename… eh, since Lu Jiahe was only an E-rank pollutant with a pollution level under 200 when he entered the Wall of Grudge, he doesn’t have a codename yet. Current pollution level: 12,939.]

[Mutation Talents: Karma Fire, Bone Blade]

[Mutation Direction: Carbonization, Flame-form, Luck E]

[If he’s lucky, he might get his third talent here…]

[Lucky you’re a lucky koi. No, you’re not a koi; you’re a Disney princess on the run, with an S-rank Awakener and an S-rank pollutant acting as your escort. Happy, little sister?]

Lu Yan’s knuckles turned white from the system’s teasing tone. He looked down at his watch. The mutation level had climbed to 90. As a doctor with a scientific spirit, Lu Yan recorded the changes in his body as the mutation level rose. At 50, distinct distortion features had appeared—scales, fins on his cheeks, thirst for water, thirst for blood, and tinnitus. At 90, these features actually weakened, but his mood shifted abnormally, making him want to find a river to drown himself in… or be reborn. Fortunately, his inherent nature was calm, and with minimal emotional volatility, he could suppress these strange impulses.

Lu Yan watched the clash of blades in the distance. Lu Jiahe had no weapons, but he had bone claws that grew out of thin air. The collision produced the shrill vibration of cold steel meeting cold steel. This was the gift Lu Jiahe had received over countless cycles. Once, he had almost saved her, but he was only a low-level pollutant then; his hand was severed by the nanny’s axe, and he watched helplessly as the axe split his sister in two. After that cycle, bone blades grew from his hands.

So thirsty. Want water.

The flames had incinerated everything. Although they didn’t touch Lu Yan, they had clearly steamed away all moisture in the vicinity. Lu Yan licked his bone-dry lips, knowing this would only accelerate his dehydration, but the unbearable thirst made it uncontrollable. “What about Tang Xun’an’s profile?”

[Tang Xun’an, S-rank Awakener, codename “Tyrant,” spirit power threshold fluctuates around 11,000.]

[Talents: Dragon Bone, Bloodlust Gene, and an incomplete Time… Time ranks third on the talent order list. Pity, he can only use a part of it. There’s no helping that; not everyone is as lucky as you, having a generous system like me.]

[Mutation Level: 94.1.]

Lu Yan was shocked: “He’s the Tyrant?”

He had never seen the Tyrant, imagining him as an aging man with a stout heart and steadfast eyes, perhaps with a sour temper, losing sleep over the fate of humanity, and riddled with ailments from years of fighting pollutants. He certainly hadn’t expected the strongest human combatant to look like a handsome male university student who knew he was hot, playing cosplay in a military uniform. Of course, given anime settings, it wasn’t impossible.

The system took a drag of a cyberpunk e-cigarette: [Yes. He was too young when he chose the codename. Now he can’t change it. Embarrassing.]

Just as Lu Yan and the system were eating melons and watching the drama, the wall beside him, charred black by fire, suddenly took on a layer of blood-red. The blood seemed to come alive, flowing and gathering. The thick smell of iron overpowered the burnt scent of debris. Lu Yan turned, shocked to see that, at some point, a blood-human had condensed on the wall. Countless blood-hands reached out toward it, as if trying to grab it, or push it away.

Lu Yan was stunned by the eerie scene, his mutation level rising 0.1 uncontrollably. The blood-human struggled, walking toward Lu Yan step by step. With its movement, the temperature plummeted. Lu Yan, who had just been in a sea of fire, now felt as though he were being frostbitten.

Lu Yan’s hair stood on end: “What is this thing?”

[A resentment from the Wall of Grudge; you should be quite familiar with her.] The system sighed. [This is the entity condensed from Lu Jiahe’s resentment. The wall holds the resentment of countless people who died unjustly… Ordinary people might become part of the wall after a dozen reincarnations, but Lu Jiahe has cycled thousands of times. He lost all his memories, but he never forgot he had to save his sister. So, on this wall filled with blood-red resentment, the sister became the strongest monster.]

[This place is both nothingness and reality. Humans are composed of memories; if the body dies but the memory remains, who is it?]

The girl made of blood finally broke free from the hands behind her. She stepped out of the wall into reality. The hands remaining on the wall transformed into countless blood-humans of varying heights, leaving only a pair of eyes each—some filled with blessings, others with vicious malice. They were all people who had died in the Wall of Grudge. Some hoped this little girl could break the curse, allowing their souls to find true peace; others envied her, as she was the only one who could achieve final liberation.

[Normally, I should tell you to run, but the sister seems to have something to say.]

The blood-red figure walked step by step toward Lu Yan. She had no features and could not make a sound; she was merely a mass of blood. The detector showed her pollution level: 700. As a derivative of the wall, she wasn’t very strong once outside. The sister reached out a hand; it was an invitation.

Lu Yan swallowed. He was thirsty—truly, incredibly thirsty. As if bewitched, he reached out and grasped her hand. The mouth in Lu Yan’s palm opened, gulping greedily, and the mass of blood continuously concentrated, shrinking, until it finally submerged into his body completely.

Many memories that were not his own flooded Lu Yan’s mind, and he finally understood why the sister had reached out that hand: Give you my blood. In exchange, let me borrow your body for a moment.

His soul detached from his shell, like a god overlooking the world, witnessing everything. Everything became transparent. Lu Yan could even see the black ants crawling through the cracks of the parched earth.

In his ear, the system’s voice chimed: [Ah, congratulations. This is the perspective from which I usually see the world.]

…

…

The fight in the distance continued.

Half of Tang Xun’an’s body had completely dragonized; his slender hands had turned into dragon claws, and black dragon wings had sprouted from his back. His transformed hands could no longer grip “Huang Chen,” so Tang Xun’an could only rely on raw strength to tear and bite. His body was covered in a layer of deep red fire, the temperature so high that the air around him distorted. Golden blood spilled from the cracks in his scales, only to be baked dry immediately.

Lu Jiahe had lost an arm. Deep within the body covered in layers of black charcoal, where his bones should have been, were tiny pink buds constantly growing and surging. The speed at which his limbs were severed far exceeded his ability to repair them.

The fight was ugly by the end—like two monsters tearing at each other, the ground littered with severed limbs, dragon scales, and golden blood.

But eventually, Tang Xun’an gained the upper hand; his dragon claw clamped around Lu Jiahe’s throat. This wasn’t the first time he’d snapped Lu Jiahe’s head off. The charcoal-like man seemed to have infinite regenerative capabilities. Even if his entire body were crushed, as long as a bit of bud remained, he could stubbornly reassemble.

But Tang Xun’an knew this would be the last time. Like Lu Jiahe’s severed limbs, his remaining strength was no longer enough to support regeneration. The surrounding flames had gradually died out, leaving only a few lingering flickers, gasping like candlelights.

Tang Xun’an’s earpiece crackled with warnings: “Mutation level has reached 99.7. Stop using your talent immediately, and strictly follow medical advice! Take your medication! Mutation level…”

Finding it too annoying, Tang Xun’an crushed the earpiece. His hand gradually returned to human form, gripping his long blade. As it left its sheath, the blade emitted a bone-chilling cold.

A hand caught the blade at this moment. It was Lu Yan’s hand, yet not entirely Lu Yan’s. Even with his body reinforced, his palm was sliced to the bone in an instant. The King Fish, stung by the blade, scrambled into Lu Yan’s heart in fear.

Tang Xun’an’s golden eyes were filled with hostility, roaring, “Get lost!”

The sister didn’t listen. She stood stubbornly in front of Tang Xun’an.

Lu Jiahe struggled to stand, grabbing hold of his sister.

Tang Xun’an’s blade was raised, just a hair’s breadth away from falling. The world, like a game with corrupted modeling, began to collapse piece by piece. The first to be swallowed by the black hole was Tang Xun’an and the land beneath his feet.

The sister spoke to the exhausted Lu Jiahe in a rapid tone: “I never blamed you.”

“I have a bad temper, I hate a lot of people, and I hate you too. But I know you never wronged me.”

“My parents were often disappointed in me because I wasn’t a boy. That’s not your fault; I only blamed you because you were the only one who wouldn’t fight back, so I took it out on you.” She stated her malice righteously. Humans were never noble creatures. Most were just somewhere in the middle—not that good, not that bad.

“You’ve done enough for me. I’m tired of watching.”

“You should have realized long ago that I am already dead. Wake up, and then, go live your own life.”

“Brother.”

On Lu Jiahe’s faceless head, two rows of tears actually streamed down from the empty black hollows. His throat was hoarse: “I wanted to… save you… I’m sorry…”

Lu Jiahe had been cursed as a jinx since childhood. Over time, he accepted the premise that “those close to him meet misfortune,” but he wanted a home so desperately. If it hadn’t been for him, perhaps his foster parents and his sister could have lived, safe and prosperous in a world without him.

The sister in his arms didn’t answer; she began to evaporate like dew. Lu Jiahe’s expression flickered with panic, trying to grab her, but he caught only a handful of flowing sand.

The dream collapsed.

His expression was vacant; skin and hair grew back, but his eyes were utterly hollow. It was night; behind Lu Jiahe was a wall. That wall collapsed with a crash.

There would never be a Wall of Grudge in the world again.

Lu Jiahe’s mind was chaotic. He felt he should remember something, but he remembered nothing—only a blank slate. Endless cycles had blurred all past memories. He didn’t know who he was. He didn’t know where he should go. He stood in place, solitary and alone. He didn’t know how many people were watching satellite feeds at this moment, terrified by the aftermath.

After a long time, he opened his mouth and slowly spat out two words: “…Sister.”

But who was his sister?

His figure vanished from the spot.

Late at night, the highest-level alarm at the M-City Pollution Prevention and Control Center sounded.

“A sudden pollution reading exceeding 10,000 detected in M-City’s central urban area. The source is unknown. Satellite imagery has captured relevant images for analysis.”

“New S-rank pollutant detected, capabilities unknown. Codename… none yet. Serial number 11.”

“Data has been encrypted.”

Abroad.

Tang Xun’an opened his eyes abruptly, his golden eyes filled with killing intent that hadn’t fully dissipated. His teammates, who had been waiting for a long time, instantly grew tense.

“Captain Tang! Deep breaths!! You’re the best!”

“Here’s the medicine, here’s the medicine!! Captain Tang! Stay calm!! Drink the medicine and you’ll be fine!”

Tang Xun’an’s gaze swept over the familiar faces, and he took the straw and the special medication. The reading on the display gradually decreased, and the dragon wings behind his back retracted. Only then did the people around him breathe a sigh of relief.

Tang Xun’an looked older than he did in the dream—he didn’t look like a university student anymore, and his eyes were much sharper. It was no wonder his teammates were so nervous. The First Team of the First Division of the Special Action Department had Tang Xun’an as captain, but no vice-captain.

Thirteen years ago, Tang Xun’an, having fallen into a state of rage, couldn’t control himself after dealing with a pollutant and bit his only surviving teammate to death. It was said that when rescuers arrived, they almost thought Tang Xun’an’s mutation level had exceeded 100. The floor was covered in blood, and he sat silently beside the deputy captain’s corpse, holding his sword.

Tang Xun’an had requested euthanasia, but headquarters refused, instead sending him a specialized mask, a piece of iron gear that looked like a muzzle for a dangerous dog.

He drank his medicine through a straw and said, “Mission failed. I did not eliminate the source of pollution.”

“…But the Wall of Grudge is clearly gone?” a teammate asked, puzzled.

Tang Xun’an lowered his eyes and replied, “It just turned from a wall into a person. Let’s head back.”