Wei Jin woke before dawn.
He washed up quickly, grabbed a simple breakfast, and headed toward the door while his mother was still in the kitchen. Liu Mei glanced over her shoulder when she heard movement.
"Up already?" she asked. "You should rest more."
"I'll train a bit," Jin said naturally. "The NCEE is close. I might be late."
She studied him for a second, then nodded. "Don't push yourself too hard. Come home early."
"I will."
Jin didn't explain further. He slipped on a dark hoodie, tucked a mask into his pocket, and stepped outside before more questions could come.
Once he was clear of the residential blocks, his pace quickened.
He avoided main roads, cutting through service alleys and half-abandoned transit paths. He knew where patrol density thinned, where cameras malfunctioned, where enforcement was lax near the outer district boundary. None of it was officially marked—but patterns existed, and Jin followed them.
Within an hour, the city changed.
Buildings became hollow shells. Windows shattered, walls cracked, streets warped by old impacts. Apartments, shops, offices—places that had once been full of people—now stood empty and broken. The remains of a city abandoned after too many battles.
This was the hunting ground.
Jin slowed, pulling the mask over his face.
As long as I don't go too deep, he thought, I'll be fine.
His senses spread outward instinctively. Sounds sharpened. Subtle vibrations traveled through the ground. Distant movement registered at the edge of awareness—too far to identify, but enough to warn him.
Monsters weren't the only danger here.
Other hunters roamed these ruins too. Not all of them followed rules. People had been killed here for cores, equipment, even information. Jin stayed close to collapsed structures and broken walls, keeping sightlines limited and escape routes open.
He moved carefully, deliberately.
This wasn't a dungeon.
There were no safe zones.
Jin adjusted his grip, eyes scanning the ruined street ahead.
Wei Jin stayed within the outer edges of the hunting grounds.
This area was filled mostly with Common and Rare monsters—creatures that veteran hunters ignored. The reason was simple: the time spent hunting them rarely matched the rewards. Low-grade cores, inconsistent drops, and almost no chance of skill crystals.
For Jin, that logic didn't apply.
"They're not worth it to others," Jin thought, moving through the ruined street, "but they're enough for me."
The first monster he encountered was little more than an oversized rabbit.
Its body was lean, muscles coiled tightly beneath pale fur, hind legs thick and powerful. A Fangtooth Hare — Common Tier. Its incisors were long and sharp, capable of biting through thin metal.
It noticed Jin and bolted instantly.
Jin's senses caught the shift in air. He stepped aside as the hare lunged, lightning flickering faintly along his fingers as he struck the base of its neck. The creature hit the ground and didn't rise again.
He placed his hand on its body.
Devour.
The gain was small—barely noticeable.
But it wasn't nothing.
Not far from there, a Rubble Serpent slithered out from beneath broken concrete. Its scales were dull and cracked, body thick but slow. It attempted to coil around Jin's leg.
Jin reacted calmly, driving his heel down on its head and finishing it with a short strike.
Another devour.
Another tiny increase.
Common monsters fell easily.
They were dangerous to ordinary people—but not to him.
By the end of the first day, Jin had hunted several more like them: rat-sized scavengers with hardened fangs, small hawk-like creatures with razor beaks. None pushed him. None forced him to use skills.
And none gave him meaningful growth.
"This won't be enough," Jin muttered.
The next day, he moved slightly deeper.
Rare monsters appeared less frequently—and made their presence known immediately.
A Shadowstep Fox emerged from behind a collapsed wall, its body sleek and dark, movements unnaturally fast. It didn't attack head-on. It circled, vanishing from Jin's sight for brief moments before reappearing.
Speed-based. Rare-tier.
Jin felt pressure build behind his eyes as his senses sharpened without his command.
There.
A faint mark flickered at the base of its spine.
The fox lunged.
Jin twisted, lightning flaring weakly along his hand as he slashed through the marked point. The creature yelped, stumbling before collapsing.
Jin staggered back, breathing hard.
His head throbbed.
"I can't use that every time," he thought. "My body won't hold."
Later, he encountered a Ironhide Boar — a massive wild boar with thick, plated skin and brute strength far beyond its size. It charged relentlessly, forcing Jin to retreat twice.
Only when the boar slowed—its breathing heavy—did a faint weak point appear near its throat.
Jin struck with everything he had.
The monster fell.
He leaned against a cracked wall afterward, steadying his breathing.
Rare monsters weren't easy.
He survived because he could see weaknesses—briefly. Unreliably.
And each time it happened, it took a toll.
"I need basic skills," Jin thought clearly. "Passive ones. Ones I can use without tearing myself apart."
Over the next two days, Jin hunted like this.
Common monsters for safety.
Rare monsters for progress.
He devoured everything he killed.
The gains were slow. Minimal. But consistent.
Better than nothing.
Jin summoned the system interface.
Gene Quality Progress:
Grade 3 — Low Purity
180 / 250
The bar had advanced steadily over the past two days.
Common monsters barely moved it. Rare ones contributed more—but raw experience wasn't the most valuable gain.
It was the skills.
Skills Acquired:
• Swift Step — Rare
A minor enhancement to movement speed. Low stamina consumption.
• Threat Sense — Rare
A passive alert that reacted to hostile intent within a short radius.
• Focused Strike — Rare
Improved damage and precision when striking weak points.
Below the skill list, a familiar symbol appeared.
Star Level: ★★ (2 Stars)
Jin didn't need the system to explain this part.
Star Levels weren't a system-only measurement.
They were the standard classification used by the Gene Association, academies, colleges, and hunter guilds worldwide.
It was how humanity evaluated combatants.
Everyone with awakened genes was ranked under it.
Low Tier:
• 1-Star (Initiate): Ordinary people and newly awakened individuals
• 2-Star (Adept): Academy students, trainees, and junior combatants
• 3-Star (Veteran): Fighters with sustained field experience
Mid Tier: •
4-Star (Elite): Recognized hunters and squad leaders
• 5-Star (Master): High-level operatives capable of independent missions
High Tier :
• 6-Star (Grandmaster): City-class powerhouses
• 7-Star (Overlord): National-level strategic forces
Beyond that…
Those weren't standardized.
Individuals who surpassed 7-Star weren't ranked—they were named.
Legends. Anomalies. Existences tied directly to their gene quality.
Jin's gaze returned to his status.
★★ — Adept.
Low-tier.
But no longer insignificant.
Star Level reflected what he could do right now.
Gene quality determined how far he could ultimately go.
At the end of everything—skills, experience, effort—it all came back to genes.
"I'm still weak," Jin thought calmly. "But I'm growing."
He dismissed the interface and lifted his gaze toward the ruins ahead.
By the end of the second day, Jin looked toward the deeper ruins.
Low-tier monsters had served their purpose.
It was time to hunt something stronger.