The moment the System prompt flashed, reality dissolved.

Chen Ye felt like he had been yanked out of his body and dragged into an endless river of stars. There was no pain, no sorrow, no joy—only a sensation of vast, overwhelming current.

A strange energy surged through his veins, washing over him in relentless waves like the tide scouring a beach. Every pass scrubbed away the grime and fatigue deep within his marrow, leaving him feeling impossibly light.

So this is Awakening.

His mind sharpened. The fog of the wasteland lifted.

If he had to describe the sensation, it felt like stepping out of a scorching sauna and getting a full-body massage—the kind that cost 188 yuan and left you feeling like a new man.

As his body rebuilt itself, a torrent of data flooded his brain. It felt less like learning and more like remembering, as if the information had always been dormant in his genetic code, waiting for the key to turn.

[Supernatural Pathway Unlocked] [Class: Smoke Apostle] [Rank: Sequence 1 – Smoke Practitioner]

This is it. My Sequence.

Chen Ye opened his eyes. The excitement in his gaze was feral, impossible to hide.

His hands trembled slightly as he fumbled for the pack of Huazi. He pulled a cigarette free and flicked his lighter. Click. Click. It sparked twice before a flame erupted.

He took a deep drag, the cherry glowing bright orange in the dark, illuminating his widened pupils.

He exhaled.

To an observer, it looked like a man blowing smoke. But to Chen Ye, it was magic.

He didn’t just exhale a cloud; he expelled a continuous, thick stream for over a minute. The smoke didn’t dissipate in the desert wind. Instead, it lingered, filling a one-meter radius around him. It curled and twisted like living tendrils, an extension of his own limbs.

Sitting in the center of the gray haze, Chen Ye’s silhouette flickered, half-visible and ghostly.

It wasn’t an offensive attack, but he was satisfied.

[Ability 1: Smoke Generation] Description: The ability to generate and manipulate smoke. Potency increases with Sequence Rank. At higher levels, a single breath can shroud kilometers in fog.

Chen Ye’s eyes glinted. He focused on the drifting gray mass.

Twist. Form.

The smoke writhed, condensing into a shape. A rabbit appeared—or at least, a crude, scribbled drawing of a rabbit. It twitched spasmodically before collapsing back into formless vapor.

Chen Ye frowned. Harder than it looks.

He tried again. This time, he pictured something familiar.

The smoke swirled at his feet, knitting together into the sleek form of a cat. It stretched its back, opened its mouth in a silent yawn, and looked up at him with sleepy, curious eyes.

[Ability 2: Smoke Shaping (Basic)] Description: Construct objects from smoke. Success rate depends on the user’s familiarity with the object.

He had owned a cat before the world ended. He knew the curve of its spine, the way it sat. The rabbit, however, he had only seen on menus.

He inhaled again.

His lungs felt… incredible.

Years of chain-smoking had left his chest heavy and prone to morning coughs. But now? His airways felt clear, cool, and pristine. The smoke didn’t irritate him; it fueled him.

[Ability 3: Nicotine Tolerance (Passive)] Description: Immunity to the negative effects of smoking. Lungs are reinforced and optimized for smoke intake.

It was a combat-useless skill, but undeniably his favorite.

[Smoke Generation], [Smoke Shaping], [Nicotine Tolerance].

Alongside the abilities, raw power coursed through his muscles. He wasn’t a biological tank like the Titan Sequence, but he was far beyond the limits of an ordinary human. Next time he went scavenging, he could carry double the load without breaking a sweat.

I did it. I’m finally a Beyonder.

He grinned, taking another drag.

Then, his left eye blurred.

The world on his left side suddenly lost its definition. The sharp, high-definition night vision he had just enjoyed began to degrade rapidly.

Chen Ye froze.

Panic flared in his chest. What is this?

Then he remembered Iron Lion’s warning: “Every Sequence Beyonder pays a price. There are no exceptions.”

Captain Chu Che walked barefoot across the burning sands, never wearing shoes. Why? And the rumors about the Titan Sequence—that the immense strength came at the cost of cognitive decline. The bigger they got, the simpler they became.

So this is my price?

Chen Ye focused. His right eye was sharp, seeing the grain of the sand. His left eye saw only a smear of gray. The visual disconnect was disorienting, inducing a mild vertigo.

The distant campfire was a bright, fuzzy blob in his left vision. If he had a mirror, he knew what he would see: his left pupil was losing its color, fading from dark brown to a milky, blind white.

[Smoke Apostle Side Effect: Visual Degradation (Left Eye)] To wield the smoke, you must give up part of the light.

Chen Ye sat there for fifteen minutes, smoking silently.

Then, he flicked the butt into the sand.

He accepted it.

In the apocalypse, grieving over a lost eye was a luxury he couldn’t afford. The trade—sight for power—was overwhelmingly in his favor. A blind eye wouldn’t kill him. Being weak would.

The desert temperature plummeted, and his breath—now mixed with supernatural smoke—hung in the air like dry ice.

Around him, the camp had gone quiet. Survivors were huddled in tents or vehicles. Only Chen Ye remained outside, unbothered by the biting cold thanks to his enhanced constitution.

He turned his attention to the two bicycles he had acquired.

He pulled out the toolkit he had traded from Iron Lion. It was time to upgrade.

System, stand by.

He began stripping the bikes down. He removed the wheels, the chains, the handlebars. His new strength made loosening rusted bolts trivial.

He pulled up the System’s modification interface.

[Blueprint Mode: Active]

He visualized the design. He would cannibalize the bicycle frames to weld a reinforced roll cage over the tricycle’s cargo bed.

The current patchwork canopy was decent for privacy but structurally weak; a sandstorm would rip it to shreds. A steel frame would solve that. It would also allow him to install a roof rack for extra storage, just like Chu Che’s off-roader.

With the four bicycle wheels, he planned to build a tow-behind trailer. A modular train system for loot.

He worked quickly, stripping the bikes to their bare bones.

But he hit a snag. The frames were welded steel. He didn’t have a hacksaw or an angle grinder to cut them into the shapes he needed.

He paused, holding a steel frame in his hand.

Wait. I have the System.

“System!” Chen Ye whispered, a spark of inspiration hitting him. “Can I designate these bicycle frames as raw ‘Upgrade Materials’ for the canopy reinforcement?”