Chapter 1: The Most Hated Motorcycle Thugs
Wu Yifan woke with a jolt, his heart pounding. The dream was still vivid—something cold and metallic burrowing into his chest, a voice droning about "enhancement points" and "future lineage." He grunted, scrubbing a hand over his face. Just a wet dream, he told himself, rolling out of his creaky bed. Another day of slouching at the KTV, dodging drunks and pretending to care about the "VIP section rules."
He ambled to Liu's Wonton Shop, the usual crowd already nursing bowls: delivery guys, street vendors, a few gray-haired retirees. The air reeked of garlic and MSG, and Wu Yifan settled into his corner booth, ordering the cheapest bowl. That's when he saw her—a woman in a tailored charcoal blazer, sitting alone by the window. Not the type to linger here. Her posture was too straight, her watch too sleek, even the way she held her chopsticks—precise, unhurried—clashed with the shop's chaotic vibe.
Wu Yifan smirked. *City folks, always slumming it for "authenticity."*
He'd nearly finished his wontons when she stood to leave. Then came the scream: "Stop them!"
Two guys on a motorcycle had snatched her leather briefcase, tires screeching as they peeled into the street. The woman stumbled, reaching for her phone, but the crowd just gaped—some filming, others backing away. Wu Yifan's first thought: *Not my problem.* He'd seen this before. But as the motorcycle shrank into the distance, that dream voice echoed in his head, sharp and mechanical:
*"2 enhancement points detected. Enhance agility ×3? Y/N."*
"What the hell," he muttered, half-delirious. "Y."
Everything shifted. The world slowed. Pedestrians became blurs, car horns stretched into low moans, and his legs moved with a spring he didn't know he had. He sprinted, not just fast—*effortlessly* fast, his shoes barely grazing the pavement as he closed the gap. The thieves glanced back, laughing, until they saw him gaining.
*"Agility enhancement active. Duration: 1 hour. Points remaining: 0."*
The voice again. Wu Yifan didn't care. He was beside the motorcycle now, reaching for the briefcase. The rear thief swung a fist; in Wu Yifan's eyes, it moved like molasses. He dodged, grabbed the case, and slammed it into the rider's shoulder. The motorcycle wobbled, crashing into a lamppost.
The crowd erupted. Someone yelled, "Hero!" Another jeered, "Show-off!" Wu Yifan handed the briefcase to the woman, her lips parted in shock. "Thanks," she said, but he was already backing away, heart racing. Not from the run—from the way his hands still tingled, from that voice in his head.
*"Task completed: Retrieve stolen property. Enhancement points depleted. New task pending."*
He ducked into an alley, fumbling for a cigarette. The dream was real. That "enhancer" thing—whatever it was—had turned him into something else. Not a nobody, not anymore.
Wu Yifan laughed, a rough, disbelieving sound. He looked toward the KTV, its neon sign flickering. Then he glanced at his hands, still buzzing with leftover energy.
"Guess today's not a waste," he muttered, stubbing out the cigarette.
The voice pinged again, colder this time:
*"New task: Initiate conversation with叶熙雯 (Ye Xiwen) within 24 hours. Failure results in enhancer deactivation."*
Wu Yifan froze. Ye Xiwen—the KTV's owner, the woman who'd called him a "slacker" last week. This day just kept getting weirder.
He started walking back, the alley walls closing in. So this was it: no more sleeping through shifts, no more hiding from the world. Whatever that enhancer was, it had plans for him. And Wu Yifan, for the first in years, found himself curious—curious enough to see what happened next.
The sun glinted off a window, and he caught his reflection: the same ratty shirt, the same scuffed shoes. But something in his eyes was different—sharper, hungrier.
"Bring it on," he said to no one.
The alley stayed silent. For now.