In front of the television, a tall and slender young man sat in a wheelchair, a smile in his eyes. Resting his chin on one hand, he murmured, “Brian Sullivan……”

The room was low and dilapidated, as if it had been ravaged by fire. The charred walls and floor tiles still bore stains from the 1980s. Yet the man’s attire was refined—his shirt and trousers were impeccably tailored, his complexion fair and handsome, his features striking. His eyes were as deep and gentle as obsidian.

There was an understated air of nobility about him, utterly out of place with his surroundings.

The screen shifted to the next international news segment, and the young man withdrew his gaze indifferently. “Let’s go.”

Two people stood guard at the door. One of them, a woman with short green hair, immediately stepped forward, turned the wheelchair, and pushed him out of the shabby room.

—Outside, the view opened up. Not far away, mountains and forests stretched endlessly. This was a village deep in the heart of a great mountain.

Rows of off-road vehicles had been waiting on the open ground for a long time. Dozens of headlights illuminated the building behind them, which turned out to be a health clinic long since reduced to a charred ruin by fire.

Dozens of armed evolvers stood solemnly in front of the vehicles, while a man was being held on his knees, disheveled and filthy, half of his left ear torn off, blood streaming down his cheek like a faucet.

When the young man in the wheelchair was pushed out, the kneeling man’s eyes lit up. He scrambled forward, trying to clutch at his legs. “Mr. Grant! Mr. Grant, I was wrong! I was just greedy for a moment, please, I don’t want to die!…”

With a swish, the green-haired woman’s hands suddenly transformed into vines, lashing out like lightning and sending the man rolling across the ground.

The young man in the wheelchair, addressed as Mr. Grant, waved his hand to stop the vine woman.

“The item?” he asked gently.

A subordinate immediately stepped forward, yanked off the pendant hanging from the man’s neck, and presented it with both hands.

It was a transparent isolation tube. Inside was a black stone the size of a fingernail, its surface rough and jagged, yet glowing with a faint blue light—thin and mysterious like mist, twinkling like a star in the night sky.

It was a meteorite.

Five years ago, over 4,000 such meteorites fell to Earth, triggering the sudden evolution of 100,000 people worldwide and plunging human society into chaos. Afterwards, these meteorites were hunted down by governments and locked away in top-secret research centers, never to be seen in the public again.

Any ordinary person with potential who came into contact with these meteorites would evolve, so they were called evolution sources and were worth a fortune on the black market.

“I—I didn’t want to steal it to sell, my ability is too weak, I just wanted more power…” The man trembled violently, sobbing. “I’ll never dare again, please, please don’t kill me!…”

“You want power?” Mr. Grant leaned forward slightly, cutting off his incoherent pleas.

Clutching his bleeding left ear, the man stammered, “Y-yes!”

Mr. Grant smiled, leaning back in his chair with casual indifference.

He tossed the meteorite up and caught it lightly, as if pondering something. After repeating this four or five times, he casually tossed the meteorite forward, letting it fall onto the sandy ground in front of the man.

“Within half a month, bring the inspector Brian Sullivan from Shenhai City to me, and it’s yours.”

The man’s eyes widened in disbelief.

“If you complete the deal within half a month, you will gain the power of evolution forever and become one of the strongest among us. Otherwise…”

Mr. Grant paused gently, looking down at him.

“—You and your ability will both be reclaimed by me, with interest. Do you understand?”

The man panted heavily, clutching the evolution source meteorite in his palm, a desperate light flashing in his eyes. After a long moment, he gritted his teeth and forced out a few hoarse words: “I—I understand.”

Mr. Grant patted him encouragingly on the shoulder and wheeled past him toward the off-road vehicles.

“—Mr. Grant!” The man suddenly remembered something, crawled a few steps forward, and knelt on the ground, asking urgently, “That Shenhai inspector, that Brian Sullivan, if I bring you his corpse, does that count?”

Apparently surprised by the question, Mr. Grant paused.

Then he chuckled, turned to look at the man for a moment, and said, “If you can kill him, I’ll grant you the highest reward… I will make you immortal.”

The man’s eyes widened.

Mr. Grant smiled and turned away.

Beneath the vast night sky, dozens of off-road vehicles lined up and sped along the rugged mountain road, gradually disappearing into the silent depths of the mountains.

Chapter 4

A few days later.

Shenhai City.

Thunderous beats pounded in the air, spotlights swept across the dance floor, and the intoxicated crowd shouted wildly with the DJ.

A fountain of Ace of Spades champagne overflowed down the tiers of a champagne tower, sparkling with the brilliance of extravagance. Groups of champagne girls erupted in screams and applause, nearly overturning the entire nightclub: “Brother, you’re amazing!” “Brother Carter, you’re awesome!”