On his way, Qin Siyang pulled out a portion of thousand-legged mushrooms he'd grabbed from the cafeteria on Friday, munching on them as he walked—his lunch for the day. In the cafeteria, mushrooms were a rare delicacy; their meaty texture and distinct fungal flavor made them tasty even with the simplest stir-fry. But Qin Siyang had no appetite to savor it. His mind was fully occupied with figuring out how to keep growing stronger.
By the time he reached Exit 89757, the afternoon was well underway. Lucky for him, his body—enhanced the previous day—boasted extraordinary stamina. He'd been walking for nearly six hours straight since leaving home, yet showed no signs of tiredness. Still, he knew this peak state wouldn't last; he could already feel his pace slowing down from its initial sprint. This made him hesitant about pushing further to Exit 38324.
"Adding another two hours round trip isn't smart." Catching sight of the Exit 89757 sign, he let out a relieved breath. "Finally made it."
This time, he didn't head straight for the exit—his goal wasn't the Sequence Ability users lingering there. To avoid drawing attention, he took a narrow side alley, planning to check the trash cans first. Having searched for god remains near two exits already, he'd developed a rough sense of where the trash cans were usually placed.
Sure enough, after cutting through one block, he spotted three trash cans stuffed full of god remains. Deep purple tentacles wriggled sluggishly along the can edges, clinging to the metal as if still alive. Qin Siyang's heart thumped wildly. He scanned the area meticulously—no one around, not even a cleaner.
Chance, or trap? He strolled casually, his mind racing to analyze the scene. The trash cans were in disarray, with no signs of being deliberately tidied. Glancing at the filth on the ground, he noticed only a set of striped shoe prints trampling back and forth near the cans—likely from a single cleaner making rounds.
Hidden surveillance? Unlikely. Exit 89757 had far fewer Sequence Ability users than Exit 54320, so its trash cans were surely less of a priority. If the massive trash station at Exit 54320 only had two plainclothes guards, Exit 89757 couldn't possibly have more advanced monitoring. No one in sight meant no surveillance.
In other words, news of the missing god remains from Exit 114514's trash can the night before had only spread to Exit 54320, not beyond. He'd originally planned to check Exit 38324, convinced it would hold a feast of unprecedented scale. But with his body already hinting at fatigue, he doubted he could make the journey.
Exit 89757's trash cans would have to do. He knew his reasoning wasn't foolproof, but fortune favored the bold. To grow stronger, risks were unavoidable. Playing it safe would only make him miss life-changing opportunities. Qin Siyang hadn't been reborn to repeat his previous life as a lowly drudge—at the very least, he intended to use his God-Eater Sequence to escape the safe zone's edge and gain financial freedom. So he needed to get stronger, and fast.
Having made up his mind, he rushed to the trash cans, eager to gorge himself before anyone arrived. The god remains here were three to four times the amount he'd eaten yesterday. He had to hurry—lingering like he did the day before, chewing slowly and pausing for water, would take too long and raise suspicions. But eating quickly meant he couldn't keep his clothes clean; bloodstains would spell disaster.
Before digging in, he carefully stripped off all his coats and hung them on a nearby streetlight. The lamp's metal casing had a few built-in hooks—Qin Siyang had no idea what they were for, but they served perfectly to keep his clothes blood-free. Shirtless, he stepped toward the trash cans. Near the safe zone exit, the air was far colder than elsewhere; frigid winds poured in whenever the exit opened, swirling through the streets and raising goosebumps across his skin. But safety came first—he'd endure the cold to protect his disguise.
Staring at the assortment of god remains, he shivered—not from cold, but excitement. Swallowing hard, he muttered, "Let's go!" Whether it was practice making perfect, or his enhanced physique boosting his swallowing power, he ate far faster than yesterday. No more choking; he grabbed remains with both hands, stuffed them into his mouth, and swallowed in one go. His hands barely stopped moving, and in just over ten minutes, he'd nearly finished all the remains in the three cans.
As he ate, his body kept strengthening. By the time he was almost done, he no longer shivered despite being shirtless—his muscles hummed with raw power. "It's working instantly?!" Qin Siyang smiled in satisfaction, glancing down at his newly defined pectoral and abdominal muscles.
Just then, the information in his mind shifted:
[Sequence: God-Eater – Advanced]
[Grow stronger by digesting gods]
[Current Sequence Level: 2, Greedy Brute]
[Skill: Blood Feast. Description: Can digest raw god flesh.]
[Skill: Brutality. Description: For 10 minutes, triple own strength, agility, and physical toughness; feel no pain during duration.]
He'd leveled up! Qin Siyang's eyes widened, staring at the status panel in disbelief. His new skill, Brutality, boosted his combat power drastically—tripling his stats and making him pain-immune. Could he join a god-hunting team now?
He recalled a post on the Godslayer Camp forum about the Warrior Sequence, which had a Reinforcement skill that doubled strength and toughness for five minutes—hailed as "broken among low-level Sequence users." His Brutality outclassed it in every way. Was he now the apex of low-level Sequence users?
With such a powerful skill, should he join a team or go solo? His mind raced, but no answers came. Suddenly, he realized the critical truth: his top priority wasn't revealing he was a Sequence Ability user, but hiding his God-Eater Sequence. To do that, he needed to visit the internet café again to find a plausible Sequence to disguise himself as. If anyone found out about God-Eater, he couldn't fathom the threats he'd face.
But that would have to wait until next week, when he got his part-time salary from the library. For now, he'd stay an ordinary student. He'd deal with the future later. Having advanced his Sequence today, he knew when to stop. Greedily pushing to Exit 38324 was too risky—it was only three stops away. If word got out here, guards there might set a trap and catch him red-handed.
He'd call it a day. After finishing the last dozen or so remains, he'd head home. Just as he reached for the final pieces, he heard footsteps. Someone was coming? Terrible timing! But the steps sounded unsteady, stumbling.
Turning, he saw a drunkard staggering toward the trash cans in the distance. The man didn't seem to notice him, humming an off-key tune that only amplified Qin Siyang's anxiety. "If this drunk finds the empty cans, they'll seal the area in no time!"
He didn't have time to wipe the blood off his body. Pausing for a split second, he stuffed the remaining dozen remains into his schoolbag, pulled on his clothes, and sprinted away. After advancing his Sequence, his body had undergone another transformation—his top speed was so fast the street railings blurred past him.
Qin Siyang prayed silently: Don't let them set up a blockade before I get away!
The drunkard, clutching a wine bottle, stumbled to the trash cans and scratched his head. "Did I just see someone here? Where'd they go…嗝… Could they be a Sequence Ability user, same as me?" He tossed the bottle into the can, the clink echoing sharply. "Huh? The cans are empty?"
The drunkard glanced back at the trash cans again. "The god remains must've been collected by the cleaners. But don't they only pick up trash at midnight?"
"Did I really drink with Blue for half the day? We only finished four or five bottles in half a day?!" He scratched his head listlessly, muttering to himself. "Getting old ruins your alcohol tolerance… Two bottles and I'm wasted for hours. Gotta drink less from now on… Or it'll affect my god-hunting…" With that, he stumbled away again.
Qin Siyang didn't hesitate or overthink—he just ran relentlessly through the narrow alleyways. The dark, deserted lanes let him flee at full speed. When the alley ended at the main road, he pretended to be an ordinary pedestrian, hurrying along with his head down before slipping into another side alley. This escape strategy worked smoothly; no one paid attention to the shabbily dressed teenager.
Perhaps the Sequence advancement had refilled his stamina—the earlier fatigue vanished completely, and his muscles felt even more energetic with every move. "I've been running for nearly twenty minutes, passed a bus stop, and still no one's chasing me."
Yet Qin Siyang remained on high alert, his heart pounding as adrenaline flooded his veins, keeping him hyper-focused. He scanned his surroundings out of the corner of his eye and listened for footsteps behind him, terrified of being discovered.
"Damn it! If that drunk hadn't stumbled in, I could've finished everything! So close!" He felt a twinge of resentment toward the drunkard, but also relief. The man was so intoxicated he could barely walk—stumbling forward two steps, backward one, clinging to walls for support. He probably couldn't even see clearly, let alone think straight.
If the person who'd spotted him hadn't been drunk, they would've noticed something was wrong immediately and reported him to the United Government. He'd likely be in custody by now. It was as if fate was watching over him.
"If I got caught with this schoolbag full of god remains, I'd never be able to explain myself." Even without the remains, he'd still be trapped in a tight spot, barely able to escape. Let alone with over a dozen pieces hidden in his bag.
He'd taken them because he could already tell—after tonight, his chance to grab god remains from trash cans was essentially gone. The theft of god remains wasn't a serious crime, since they were useless. Qin Siyang had read online at the internet café before: "Humans can't digest god remains; they either vomit them up intact or pass them unabsorbed." No one would steal something worthless.
But the disappearance itself was bizarre. If they were useless, why steal them? Could there be a conspiracy behind it? Two consecutive disappearances at two different trash cans in two days would definitely attract attention. The police were probably already onto it.
Qin Siyang had raided the trash cans two days in a row to grow stronger as quickly as possible. Others might have taken a more gradual approach—waiting between trips, never clearing out an entire can. But Qin Siyang had learned his lesson with "gradual progress" in his past life.
He'd thought hard work and slow accumulation would lead to promotions and raises, but he'd died without ever getting that promotion. It taught him: slow planning suited wealthy capitalists with a foundation, not a pauper like him. "Seizing opportunities aggressively" was the only way for someone at the bottom to turn their life around. He was too vulnerable to unexpected changes—even a small storm could crush him.
What if the United Government stationed guards at every trash can from now on? Would he have to hide forever? The next opportunity might never come. Reborn, he refused to wait passively. If something could be done today, he'd never put it off until tomorrow. Strike while the iron's hot, for delay breeds trouble.
It was clear his chances of stealing god remains from trash cans without being exposed were slim. Since this was his last chance, and the only witness was a slow-witted drunk, he'd taken as much as he could. Besides, if the government caught him, it wouldn't matter if he had the remains or not—escape would be nearly impossible. Fortune favors the bold, and misfortune befalls the timid.
Noticing blood seeping through his schoolbag, Qin Siyang hugged it to his chest and ducked into another alley, continuing his dash home. Unlike the main road, which had dim streetlights at intervals, the alley was pitch-black. The only light came from stars filtering through the safe zone's anti-aircraft glass above.
Thanks to his enhanced physique, Qin Siyang could see every detail of the alley clearly. The darkness worked to his advantage, hiding his face—even if someone passed by, he could run past without fear of being recognized. He just needed to keep going until he reached home.
But as soon as he turned into a dark alley, fate took a sudden turn. A small knife flew out from the shadows, aimed straight for his right eye. What the hell?! His agility, now far beyond that of an ordinary person, let him dodge instantly as soon as he spotted the blade. The knife clattered to the stone ground of the alley.
Qin Siyang's gaze locked onto three figures by the side of the road. Their hair was messy and unkempt, and their faces wore sneers. "Who'd have thought we'd get a fat sheep wandering by while we're sleeping here?" "Lucky day for us three!" The men stood up, surrounding Qin Siyang.
"What do you want?" Qin Siyang asked coldly, growing anxious as time ticked away. He had no time to argue with them. The disappearance of the god remains could be exposed at any moment—he needed to get as far from Exit 89757 as possible. He was still only two stops away, far from safe. And he was holding a schoolbag full of god remains.
One of the men pushed back his greasy bangs, grinning maliciously. "No money? Then hand over the schoolbag." They were after his bag?! Qin Siyang clutched the bag tighter, covering the bloodstain. This was bad.
"There's nothing valuable in here, but I can't give it to you." "Nothing valuable? Then open it and let us check!" Qin Siyang sized up the homeless robbers, his mind calm. They were just ordinary people—if he wanted to escape, they couldn't stop him.
He was calculating which direction to break through when another man mocked, "You're running like you're fleeing for your life. Got something shady in that bag, huh? Tell you what—we're not greedy. You keep a quarter, give us the rest, and we'll keep your secret. Deal?"
Another man chipped in: "Yeah! Hand over the stuff, and we'll pretend we never saw you. Otherwise, you're in for a beating. Even if you run, we'll report you to the police! The streetlight caught your face when you turned in—we've got it memorized!"
Qin Siyang froze mid-step, his escape plan abandoned. These men had seen his face—they posed a permanent risk of exposure. If they really reported him to the police, all his efforts would be for nothing. Suddenly, a wave of murderous intent surged within him.
The thugs, seasoned veterans of the streets, instantly noticed the cold glint in his eyes. "Boss, this kid's got a tough look!" "He wanna fight? Hah, a poor kid like him? If he's gonna resist, that bag must have something priceless! Let's take him out and claim the fortune for ourselves!"
With that, all three pulled out knives and lunged at Qin Siyang. He'd never killed anyone before—his murderous intent had only been a fleeting thought. For someone who'd lived a peaceful life in a civilized world, taking a life wasn't easy. He'd hesitated to act, but the thugs had cornered him with no way out.
"Fate has it that you die today. Don't blame me." "Arrogant brat! Kill him!" The thugs grinned, convinced their blades would pierce him before he could react. But in Qin Siyang's eyes, their attacks were as weak and clumsy as a toddler's.
Qin Siyang threw a straight punch, targeting the closest man's face. As his fist connected with the man's nose, he felt a clear vibration—bone snapping. In that split second, he realized his enhanced senses let him perceive even the tiniest details in combat. Blood spurted from the man's nose and mouth.
"Thud!" The man was sent flying seven or eight meters off his feet by the punch, landing hard on the stone ground and rolling several times before coming to a stop. Qin Siyang's sharp senses let him witness every moment of his lethal blow, and his blood boiled with excitement. He'd killed someone.
The man's face was unrecognizable, twisted in a grotesque expression as he lay between Qin Siyang and the other two thugs. The remaining pair trembled in fear, instantly realizing they'd provoked a Sequence Ability user. But fear didn't make them retreat—they were fugitives with blood on their hands, well aware this was a fight to the death. Begging for mercy would be useless. Their only chance to survive was to kill Qin Siyang.
The two charged at him more frantically, swinging their knives. Qin Siyang stepped back with his left leg, then delivered a sweeping kick to one man's waist. More crisp bone cracks echoed up his leg. The man's body bent at an unnatural angle, flying through the air with the force of the kick. When Qin Siyang pulled his leg back, the man crashed into the third thug, sending both tumbling.
Qin Siyang didn't hesitate. He leaped forward, landing beside the dazed pair, and raised his fist again. "Spare me! I'll give you all my money…" Survival instinct made the thug beg, but Qin Siyang cut him off. His fist slammed into the man's cheek, crushing his skull. "Kill you, and your money's mine anyway."
After killing all three, the murderous intent faded, replaced by an inexplicable emptiness. He sighed listlessly. He'd never thought he'd kill someone. But it had been self-defense—there was no guilt to bear. Yet he couldn't shake the feeling that this wasn't the end, but the beginning. The beginning of him learning to kill without hesitation.
Qin Siyang steeled himself, calming his trembling body. Once composed, he didn't flee immediately. He remembered reading on Godslayer Camp that some Sequences could read the last memories of the dead. To cover his tracks, he wrapped his fist in one of the men's clothes and smashed their faces beyond recognition—only then did he feel safe.
He cleaned the scene meticulously, wiping away bloodstains, taking all the money from their pockets, and dragging the three bodies into a dark, abandoned warehouse. He set it on fire, tossing his bloodstained coat into the flames too. This would prevent any Sequence Ability users from tracking him by scent—he wasn't sure if such a power existed, but it was better to be safe than sorry.
He'd chosen this warehouse because the muddy road in front was covered with countless footprints, which would mask his own scent. To avoid leaving tracks in the mud, he used his strength and agility to jump across gravel, leaving no trace behind. "Hope this works."
Worried the fire would attract attention, Qin Siyang fled at full speed as soon as the flames engulfed the bodies. This time, he ran like a man possessed. Anyone who saw him in the alley would have thought a speeding vehicle had passed by, not a human.
After running for over half an hour, Qin Siyang reached the main road again. His heart still raced from killing for the first time, but there was no more panic—only unwavering resolve in his eyes. "I regret their deaths. That's all."
Over two hours after Qin Siyang fled the trash cans at Exit 89757, dozens of uniformed police officers swarmed the area following orders. Outside the cordon, numerous Sequence Ability users discussed the incident, their faces etched with confusion. The theft of god remains from a trash can was nothing short of absurd. Some things went unnoticed until they vanished—and god remains were a perfect example. Their disappearance stirred up unexpected attention and questions.
A white-haired detective in a heavy coat, scarf wrapped around his neck and a cigar clamped between his teeth, circled the trash cans. The surrounding officers stood at attention, showing him profound respect—as if he were far more than a regular detective. He turned to a female officer beside him and asked, "Lorena, now that you've advanced your Sequence, I hear your tracking abilities have grown far stronger—ten times better than the chief's police dogs. Can you pick up any scents here?"
He had European features but spoke Mandarin— the official language of the safe zone, where most residents were of Chinese descent.
The blonde female officer shook her head. "No, sir. The god remains have saturated the area with their aura, completely masking any human scents. Even with my advanced abilities, I can't distinguish a single human trace. If I activate my skill here, the overwhelming divine aura might knock me unconscious."
Olov looked disappointed. "Damn it. A skill useless around gods—nothing but trouble."
"I agree, sir. Unfortunately, I awakened the Scentsmith Sequence; there's no changing it. Ability users like me are destined to only operate within the safe zone."
Olov took two quick puffs of his cigar, flicked the ash into the trash can, and turned to the gathered Sequence Ability users. "Who first discovered the issue with the trash cans?"
"Me, Detective Olov! It was me!" A man in a taupe jacket stepped forward, his hair disheveled and breath reeking of alcohol. It was the drunkard who'd stumbled upon Qin Siyang.
But now, he was completely sober—his expression tense with anxiety. After sobering up, Hans had realized someone had stolen the god remains and been overcome with shock. He'd wanted nothing to do with the incident; anyone bold enough to steal god remains was not to be messed with. Since awakening his Sequence, he'd only wanted to live a quiet life as an Ability user.
Yet he'd foolishly tossed his wine bottle into the trash can. The bottle carried his scent—an undeniable fact. If a Scentsmith activated their ability, he'd be identified immediately, and he'd never be able to clear his name. To avoid trouble with the police, he'd reported the incident himself, hoping for leniency.
"Tell me what happened," Olov said.
"Detective, I'd been drinking with Blue at a bar and was on my way home. I grabbed an extra bottle to finish on the walk. When I emptied it, I saw this trash can and tossed the bottle in."
Lorena cut in sharply. "Hans, you're a Sequence Ability user. Don't you know the only things allowed in these trash cans are god remains? They're meant for centralized disposal! You're interfering with United Government work!"
"I… I was drunk. I wasn't thinking straight…" Hans stammered. Qin Siyang had gambled correctly—Hans's intoxication had bought him precious escape time. Without it, the outcome would have been drastically different.
Olov, seemingly accustomed to such reckless Ability users, waved a hand to silence Lorena. "Let him finish. No interruptions."
"Yes, sir." Lorena glared at Hans, her expression cold.
"I vaguely saw a figure rummaging through the trash cans, but it disappeared quickly. Though I can't be sure—like I said, I was drunk," Hans continued.
"And then?"
"I tossed the bottle in and heard it clink against the empty can. I thought it was midnight and the cleaners had already collected the trash, so I went home."
"What time was this?"
"I… I don't know. I passed out as soon as I got home. I'm a Sleepless Sequence user—I rarely need sleep. Even drunk, I only slept two hours. When I woke up, it was still afternoon. The memory of the empty trash can felt off, so I reported it."
"You reported it voluntarily?"
"Yes, Detective! Please, since I came forward and admitted my mistake, can I be forgiven for tossing the bottle and delaying the investigation? I've learned my lesson—I'll never do it again! Please give me a chance!"
Olov didn't even glance at him. "Business is business. The police force's scales of justice don't tilt for anyone. You'll get your reward for reporting, and your punishment for breaking the rules—no more, no less."
"Uh…" Hans felt a surge of regret. He'd volunteered information and cooperated fully, yet still faced punishment. What terrible luck.
"Take him back to the station," Olov ordered. Lorena signaled to the officers, who escorted Hans away.
"Yes, sir." Hans left with a scowl, silently cursing the thief who'd stolen the god remains.
With Hans gone, Olov frowned deeply, lost in thought. "A lone culprit? Why steal god remains from a trash can? They're worthless—stealing moldy wood from a warehouse to burn for fire would make more sense!"
Lorena added, "A similar incident happened at Exit 114514 yesterday. I reported it to the chief, but it didn't get enough attention. We only set up surveillance near nearby exits, and he struck again further away."
Just then, Lorena's pager beeped. She answered it quickly. "Hello? Go on. What? I see. Got it. I'll tell Detective Olov right away."
Olov looked over, sensing new developments. "What is it?"
"Detective, a warehouse fire was reported two stops from here. Three charred bodies were found inside."
"Bodies? Charred?"
"Yes. All three had severely crushed skulls—their faces are unrecognizable. Forensic Sequence officers say the wounds were likely inflicted by someone with immense strength, using only their fists. The fire destroyed any scents I could track."
"Can you trace the culprit's scent from the crime scene?"
"Probably not. The officer on-site said the area is heavily trafficked—mixed footprints and chaotic scents."
"Found the primary crime scene?"
"No. There are no signs of a fight near the warehouse."
Olov puffed on his cigar in silence. Lorena continued, "Detective, I have a question."
"Ask."
"Who were the three victims?" Lorena was an experienced officer, yet she didn't hesitate to show her confusion in front of Olov—as if he held a status far higher than detective.
"We'll likely never know their identities. But the killer is definitely a Sequence Ability user. No ordinary person could kill three people without leaving a fight scene, let alone crush their skulls with their fists."
Olov glanced at the empty trash cans and exhaled a smoke ring. "The warehouse fire happened right after the theft. A strength-type Ability user could easily cover the distance in that time if they ran at full speed. It's possible both cases are linked to the same culprit."
Lorena frowned. "The same person? Stole the god remains here, then killed three people and set a fire two stops away?"
"No useful clues were left at either scene. Let's make a bold assumption and verify it carefully later. For now, analyze the cases under the premise they're connected." Olov stroked his white beard. "I think this person is unfamiliar with Sequence abilities."
"Why do you say that, sir?"
"The victims had other fatal wounds—their skulls were likely crushed post-mortem. He then burned the bodies. I suspect he smashed their skulls to prevent Immortal Sequence users from reading their last memories. But he didn't know Immortal users' memory-reading skills have limitations."
"Once the brain is damaged or its biological structure destroyed, the Immortal's ability becomes useless. In other words, burning the bodies alone would have blocked their tracking—smashing the skulls was unnecessary."
Lorena looked confused. "You mean he doesn't even know this basic Sequence knowledge?"
"I can't think of another reason for the extra step. Of course, he might be laying a trap to make us think he's a novice. But criminals of that caliber rarely operate in Sector 14121."
Lorena nodded, convinced by his reasoning. "If he's unfamiliar with Sequence information, maybe he just awakened his ability and hasn't researched it yet. We could stake out the Sequence Administration Bureau—we might catch him there!"
"Your assumption about him being unprepared is flawed," Olov countered. "He chose a location with chaotic scents to interfere with your tracking and burned the bodies to destroy evidence. Lorena, understand this: he didn't kill those men deliberately. He acted in a panic while fleeing after stealing the god remains. Despite his ignorance, he's extremely cautious."
"Someone with such meticulous attention to detail wouldn't have stolen the god remains and exposed himself without preparation. His actions suggest he has no access to reliable Sequence information."
Lorena brushed a strand of messy blonde hair aside, looking puzzled. "That's impossible. Ability descriptions are publicly available on Godslayer Camp—anyone can check them with a phone or computer."
"No, you're wrong. If all our assumptions are correct, there's one group of people who fit—people who can't access that information."
"Who?"
"The poor."