At the instant the countdown hit zero, the world felt like an invisible hand had turned it inside out. Darkness tore open, and valleys, wind, and light surged in like a tidal wave. Xu Zhu stood at the edge of a mist-golden peach grove, tree trunks mottled, leaf backs reflecting a soft white glow. In the distance were the wooden arrow towers and stone mills of the novice village. The air carried the scent of peach blossoms and damp soil, as if the real world had been transplanted here.
A system prompt floated above his retina, like a thin transparent card.
Status: Healthy
HP: 1/1
Stamina: 40/40
Spirit: 30/30
Title: None
Special State: Curse · Bloodlock (Max HP locked at 1)
Xu Zhu froze. He blinked. The panel didn't change. He rubbed his face. Still the same. The wind blew through, leaves clattered crisply, and he felt each strand of cool air without nausea or the dizziness of VR sickness. The immersion level of this world blurred the line between "false" and "real."
"Hey? Black-haired guy over there, show us your panel, don't block it." A voice came from behind.
Several newbie players surrounded him, each holding the short wooden clubs issued by the system, their starter shoes polished from use. One pulled up his own HP panel with pride: "Look, 30 HP, normal."
Another laughed: "I've got 28, down two points already, damn unlucky."
They turned to Xu Zhu.
Xu Zhu hesitated, then tilted his panel up slightly. The glaring "1/1" on the transparent card couldn't hide under the sunlight.
The surroundings went silent for a moment, like a summer afternoon suddenly losing power.
Then, laughter burst.
"Holy crap, brother, you're playing hardcore mode at spawn?"
"Speedrunning the novice village?"
"With that HP… the wind outside will kill you, hahahaha!"
Someone reached to pat his shoulder. Xu Zhu instinctively stepped back half a pace. The hand froze midair, its owner awkwardly chuckling: "Oh right, forgot, one tap might… sorry, bro."
The laughter grew louder, rippling outward until even the NPC aunt feeding chickens in the distance turned her head.
Xu Zhu drew in a breath and closed the panel. He looked down. His shadow was pressed against the ground, calm as a stone.
"At worst it's just a random curse," he told himself. "If it can be lifted, fine. If not, I'll learn to live with one drop of blood."
The novice instructor NPC walked over—a youth with a headband, reciting task lines in a monotone: "Welcome to Seles. Your first step is to learn combat. Please defeat three Blueback Slimes and report to me. Reward: 10 Copper, 3 Starter Bandages."
"Blueback Slimes? They splash on jump. Brother, with your HP, you'd better reroll." Someone offered a kind warning.
Xu Zhu shook his head. He walked toward the task grounds at a steady pace. Between the peach grove and the novice village lay an open field, grass pressed flat, damp rising from the soil. Dozens of Blueback Slimes bounced about, their shells reflecting water-light like greased soap bars.
He picked up a straight wooden stick from the ground, held it, tested its weight. The shaft was slightly unbalanced, the grip worn, fibers rough against his fingers. Xu Zhu pressed his thumb against the grip, finding the pivot and wrist angle. His heartbeat quickened, but not with panic—rather, a faint tremor of entering state. He muted all other sounds, eyes fixed on the nearest slime.
The Blueback Slime's rhythm was simple: charge—jump—land—splash. Any step touching him meant instant death at 1 HP.
He didn't retreat.
The slime noticed this unmoving prey. Its back arched, its semi-transparent body rippled like a disturbed pond. With a "pop," it leapt, short and fast.
Xu Zhu stepped forward with his right foot, shoulder pushing, stick flicking upward just before the arc. It wasn't just strength, but timing. At impact, the wood bent slightly, elasticity catching the slime's gel for a heartbeat. The momentary pause twisted its momentum sideways.
The slime rolled half a turn, bounced, and was swatted down again. Its shell was scratched but unbroken. Angered, it pulsed again, brighter.
"Nice!" someone shouted.
"Lucky. Next jump splatters him dead."
The second jump was faster. Xu Zhu saw the blue body compress midair, a coiled spring snapping tighter. Its shadow stretched to cover his toes.
He didn't retreat. He even leaned in, letting it cover an extra inch.
The world slowed.
At the edge of his vision, a nearly invisible red line tightened, like a string plucked. Heat surged to his fingertips, bones creaked faintly. No panel appeared, yet something brushed a hidden threshold—like standing on cracked ice, a step away from plunging through.
Near-death.
Not in numbers, but in instinct: the sense that the next beat meant death. Balanced on that razor's edge, his body moved before his mind. His foot pivoted inward, weight dropped, wrist twisted low. The stick slid beneath the slime's side, skewing upward.
The angle was perfect, slicing through its weakest seam.
With a wet pop, the slime burst in two, gel scattering in thin threads. Droplets hovered half an inch from his face, glimmering, then fell harmlessly to the ground.
Xu Zhu froze, throat bobbing, before exhaling slow.
The crowd was silent for two beats, then clapping and mocking resumed:
"Lucky! Total luck!"
"No, that angle… was precise."
Xu Zhu didn't argue. He knew it wasn't luck. He had fought at death's edge. Only on that line did his sight and strength sharpen, time itself stretching enough for his strike.
He named it in his mind: Residual Edge.
The next two slimes attacked together. Xu Zhu sidestepped half a pace, stick slicing like a fish tail, pinning one for half a second, splitting the other deeper. Both collapsed into puddles.
System prompt flashed: [Defeated Blueback Slimes ×3. EXP +45. Copper +3.]
The spectators gasped.
"He didn't get hit once…"
"Who fights slimes in melee at 1 HP?"
Xu Zhu drove the stick into the ground, loosening his tense spine, sweat dripping. He searched his pockets. No bandages—just bread, water, a blunt knife.
"You're stupid," someone said, half-jealous, half-genuine. "One mistake and you're done. Reroll."
"It's my time to waste," Xu Zhu replied calmly.
The man left. Others whispered, some posting: [Novice Village Field 12—crazy 1 HP guy fighting slimes head-on]. News spread like sparrows through the forums.
Xu Zhu collected the gel, task marker glowing. He turned back toward the NPC—then the arrow tower struck its gong three times.
"Gather!" an NPC captain shouted. "Temporary dungeon open! Volunteers needed! Target: Peach Grove Depths · Rabbit Warren!"
"Isn't that the rolling boulder dungeon?"
"Last time, even elites got flattened!"
A scroll unfurled on the board: a canyon map, marked stone chutes, rabbit warren. Note: fast, strong rabbits, using slopes to roll boulders. Recommended classes: Shieldbearer, Hunter, Medic.
Xu Zhu stared at the chute lines. He could imagine stone grinding, air compressed, half-second vacuums before impact. He could imagine standing at the most dangerous point, feeling wind thread past his ear, hands heating as his stick wedged into the tiniest crack between stones.
This was his stage—where only on the Residual Edge could victory be found.
"Don't go," the kind player warned again. "Splash zones, impact wide, even a rabbit ear kills you."
"Yeah, you'll drag the team."
Xu Zhu didn't answer. He tightened his pack, checked laces, fingers. Sometimes, choice wasn't "should I," but "only this way."
He approached the captain. A group had formed—two shields, three hunters, one medic, one rogue. "Report class?" a shieldbearer asked.
"Close combat." Xu Zhu lifted his stick.
The rogue whistled. "Close combat? Rabbits dent heavy shields."
"I know," Xu Zhu said.
"Wait," the shieldbearer frowned. "Your HP?"
Xu Zhu paused, then admitted: "One."
Silence. Hunters muttered. The rogue's grin died. "Are you insane? This is a team run. If you die, we all retreat."
"I won't drag you down. I won't take frontline. I'll mark boulder windows and break supports. Just guard the medic."
"How?" a hunter sneered. "At 1 HP?"
Xu Zhu looked to the captain. "Rules allow it?"
"Allowed," the NPC intoned. "Risk borne by volunteers."
"Then let's start." Xu Zhu said.
Spectators recorded. Title: [Historic: 1 HP Melee Signs Up for Rolling Boulder Dungeon]. Streams opened. Chat spammed: [Sacrifice fodder] [He's mad]. Others whispered: [What if he's a hidden master? Did you see his slime strike?]
The medic, the youngest, looked nervous. Hugging his kit, he whispered: "I'll try to follow… Please don't die."
"I'm no god," Xu Zhu said. "I just step on the edge."
He slung the stick, pinky hooking it to his back. Entering the canyon, wind carried the scent of stone and moss. He counted beats. On the fourth, a "click" echoed deep in the wall. He shifted step, body tilting like an arrow strung.
The red line quivered again.
Wind thinned.
"Raise," Xu Zhu said softly.
Shields lifted, hunters crouched, rogue flipped to wall. A boulder shadow swallowed the path, air rippled, sparks screamed off steel. Dust lingered.
"Shit," the rogue hissed. "That angle—"
"Keep moving," Xu Zhu's calm voice pressed forward. "Second chute ahead."
Heat burned his fingertips, the string inside him tightening again. Each step pressed closer to the Residual Edge, slowing the world, not for show—but to live.
At the canyon's end, red eyes lit in rabbit dens. Ground trembled, a heartbeat starting.
Xu Zhu's grip tightened, veins taut like bowstrings. Breath shallow, gaze sharp as steel. He knew each strike would brush death—but only there would the world crack open a path.
As he readied to warn of the second boulder, a system overlay popped:
[Forum Hot Topic: 1 HP Maniac Challenges Rolling Boulder Dungeon—Live Now]
Xu Zhu ignored it. Eyes fixed on the narrowing wind, he whispered:
"Raise."
Wind snapped. Darkness at the canyon tip sharpened to a needle. The second boulder shadow surged.
On the razor's edge of death, Xu Zhu lifted his stick.