(Note: This chapter is the original prologue. It can be skipped, but contains vital world-building.)
The night sky hung heavy and crimson, a reflection of the city lights against the thick clouds. A fine drizzle fell, spreading ripples across the dark puddles on the pavement.
A car sped past, its headlights cutting through the gloom and splashing rainwater onto a hunched figure in a raincoat. For a fleeting second, the light caught his face—revealing bloodshot eyes filled with a desperate, near-hysterical intensity.
The man paused, watching the car pull up to the university gate. A young, elegant girl stepped out with an umbrella to meet a middle-aged man. He wore glasses, and his salt-and-pepper hair was combed with meticulous precision.
This was Zhang Chengfu, a specially appointed professor at this prestigious university.
Watching his daughter come to pick him up, Zhang's face softened into a smile of genuine relief, though his voice carried a hint of gentle reproach. "Baby, why did you come to pick me up? It's pouring. I could have just taken a taxi home."
"Because I'm Daddy's favorite daughter! What, are you unhappy that I'm here?" The girl pouted, her cherry-red lips curling slightly.
"How could I be? It's just that you've only recently learned to drive. It's dangerous in this rain," Zhang comforted her. He was utterly powerless against his daughter's whims.
"Professor Zhang... we need to talk."
The figure in the raincoat stepped forward, shattering the warm father-daughter moment.
"And you are...?"
Zhang recognized the voice immediately. He turned to his daughter. "Baby, wait in the car for a moment. I have something to discuss with him."
"Let's talk over there," Zhang said, leading the way to a secluded corner. Cyan Wei followed him, keeping a distance of exactly two meters.
"Cyan, what do you want?"
Once they reached a spot hidden from surveillance cameras, Zhang stopped. He looked up at his umbrella, listening to the rhythmic drumming of the rain with a look of pure, clinical enjoyment.
"Professor Zhang... why did you steal my graduation thesis?" Cyan Wei's voice was strained, his fists clenched tight inside his pockets.
Zhang Chengfu pulled out his phone, a confident, mocking smile playing on his lips. He slowly opened a video file. On the screen, a drunk young man with dark circles under his eyes was seen stuffing a bank card into his pocket. It was Cyan.
Zhang hadn't originally intended to plagiarize his student's work. However, the boy's talent had far exceeded his expectations—it had sparked a bitter jealousy. He couldn't stand that a mere student surpassed him. So, he had set a trap.
He hadn't expected Cyan to be this stubborn.
"I never agreed to anything! You set me up!" Cyan's voice rose as he struggled to suppress his rage. He had treated the professor and his classmates as friends, only to be betrayed and drugged for their own gain.
"Cyan, do you have any proof? You took the money. There's 500,000 on that card. If you can return it, I'll issue a statement claiming you are the true author and accept my own ruin. But can you?"
"500,000? There wasn't a cent in that card! It was a lie! I woke up in a stranger's house after that party—don't tell me you weren't behind that nightmare!" Cyan's growl was thick with pain. The boy, who had never even been in a relationship, had lost everything in a setup so grotesque it made him want to die just remembering the woman Zhang had hired to entrap him.
"I had no idea you had such... unique tastes, Cyan." Zhang looked at him with mock surprise.
"Stop lying!"
"You say it's a trap? Where is your evidence? This is a society of laws, Cyan. Everything requires proof. Right now, you are merely slandering me. If you continue, I'll call the police."
Zhang knew Cyan couldn't go to the police. The professor was purely playing on the boy's fear to buy time.
"Now, go home, get some sleep, and write a new thesis."
"I'll write your damn obituary first! Zhang Chengfu, just you wait!"
As he watched Cyan storm off, the coldness in Zhang's eyes shifted into a bloodthirsty, predatory grin. "Cyan... you're forcing me to make you disappear."
Late that night, in a cramped rental room.
Cyan Wei sat before his computer, his fingers flying across the keyboard. He was documenting his nightmare, hoping the power of the internet would give him one last chance at justice. He had nothing left to lose.
He finished the post, intending to blast it across every forum from Weibo to NGA. He proofread it one last time, his eyes filled with a flicker of hope. But then, he felt a sudden, freezing breeze at his back.
Puff!
The sound of cold steel piercing flesh echoed in the small room. Cyan let out a strangled scream.
"I told you... you're forcing my hand."
Holding a blood-stained fruit knife, Zhang Chengfu stood behind him. His eyes were like ice, and he radiated a murderous aura so thick it felt as if he had crawled through a mountain of corpses.
The sheer pressure of that intent made Cyan tremble uncontrollably—even before the pain of the deep wound in his back registered.
"Zhang Chengfu! This is murder! You'll never get away with this!" Cyan screamed, desperate for a neighbor to hear.
"Keep screaming. No one is coming. Do you know what this is?" Zhang pulled out a strange, shimmering card. "It's a Scene Card. Its function is simple: it blocks all sound. This is the only item I've managed to bring out from the Survival Space."
Rippp!
Zhang tore open his shirt, revealing a bizarre tattoo over his heart. It was a face split in two: half-demon, half-angel—a disturbing balance between the holy and the profane.
Cyan couldn't see the tattoo or the card; to his eyes, Zhang looked like a lunatic talking to the air. He began to regret ever provoking a madman.
"You think I'm crazy?"
Zhang noticed the look in the boy's eyes and burst into a fit of manic laughter. With a casual flick of his wrist, he hurled the fruit knife. It cut through the air with a literal sonic pop.
Zip—!
The blade buried itself deep into Cyan's heart, punching straight through his chest and embedding itself several centimeters into the concrete floor.
Cyan coughed up a spray of blood. As he watched the crimson pool spread across the floor, his vision faded to black.
Zhang walked over to the corpse. From his palm, a misty, flesh-pink gas erupted. As the gas touched the body, it began to melt at a visible rate. In moments, not a bone, a tooth, or a drop of blood remained.
(Do you really think someone with superhuman powers is going to play fair? The world is full of monsters in suits. If he can't buy silence, he'll just erase the problem. After all, he knows how to leave no trace.)