Ling Yun had a dream. In it, an immense force hurled him into an icy abyss, where piercing cold engulfed him, freezing every inch of his flesh until he could scarcely breathe. Countless streams of frigid air seeped through his pores, invading his organs, ravaging his very cells as though a swarm of savage insects were tearing into his body with relentless ferocity.
Just as the agony reached its peak, that same force suddenly flung him skyward, only to cast him into a seething pool of molten lava. The abrupt transition between extremes—bone-chilling frost and scorching fire—shattered his body into a myriad of minuscule particles. Darkness consumed his vision, and for a moment, he believed himself dead. Yet, strangely, his consciousness remained. It was an indescribable sensation—he could neither see nor feel himself, yet he perceived everything around him with an unparalleled clarity, down to the finest detail.
This was a world unlike any he had ever known—an unfathomable, wondrous realm. A colossal rainbow arched across the heavens like an immense bridge of radiant hues, while countless dazzling stars streaked toward him at unimaginable speed. Like pebbles vanishing beneath the surface of a tranquil lake, these stars merged into his consciousness, erupting into a blinding brilliance. When the light finally receded, Ling Yun found his body whole once more.
The dream ended. The rain had ceased.
Lying on the damp ground, Ling Yun stirred. His eyelids fluttered open, and with a groan, he sat up sluggishly, cradling his aching head. He gazed blankly at the overcast sky, his mind shrouded in confusion. A dozen seconds passed before clarity returned to him.
Realizing he was still sprawled in the filthy, rain-soaked alley, he hurriedly scrambled to his feet, only to find his entire body drenched in mud and grime—even his hair was speckled with dirt. His clothes were in tatters, riddled with jagged tears and rips. Fortunately, the alleyway was deserted, a secluded corner of the city where few ever ventured. With the storm driving people indoors, no one had witnessed his wretched state.
This was the handiwork of Zhang Yunfeng and his gang of thugs! The memory of their vicious assault seared through his mind, igniting a fury so intense it felt almost tangible. The flames of rage crackled within him, burning with the bitter frustration of powerlessness. If only he had the strength to strike back, to make those vermin pay for their cruelty!
Someday, I will make you all suffer a hundredfold for the humiliation I endured today!
Clenching his teeth, he threw his head back and let out a primal roar. His fist tightened, trembling with uncontainable wrath, before he swung it with all his might against the brick wall beside him.
A deafening crack resounded through the alley. The solid brick wall caved in, a hole the size of a bowl appearing where his fist had struck. Dust and cement fragments rained down, only to dissolve into thin wisps of smoke as they touched his skin, leaving not a single speck of dust upon him.
Ling Yun's face froze in disbelief.
Slowly, he withdrew his fist from the hole and raised it before his eyes, inspecting it as though it were no longer his own hand, but rather a weapon of unfathomable destruction.
It was still a fist—unchanged, unscathed, without so much as a scratch. It was as though he had punched nothing but air.
He lifted both hands, spreading his fingers wide. His palms were smooth, unblemished, their skin fair and radiant with an almost otherworldly sheen. Yet he distinctly remembered—the excruciating pain when one of the thugs had kicked his left middle finger as he shielded his ribs. At the time, the agony had been so intense that tears had welled in his eyes. There had been no need to check; he had been certain the bone was either fractured or at the very least severely bruised.
But now, his left middle finger bent and flexed effortlessly, utterly unharmed. There was no sign of injury—not even the faintest bruise.
Dazed, Ling Yun stared at his hands. Then, as if struck by a sudden realization, he hastily unbuttoned his tattered shirt, lifting his undershirt to examine his torso. Just as he had suspected—not a single trace of injury remained. The bruises, the wounds, the evidence of the merciless beating he had endured—vanished, as though they had never existed.
What is happening?
Completely bewildered, he muttered to himself. Had he simply lost consciousness, only to awaken with newfound strength, his wounds inexplicably healed?
Lowering his gaze in contemplation, he walked a few steps along the alley wall before coming to a halt. Taking a deep breath, he clenched his fist once more and drove it forward with all his might.
Again, there was no pain, no resistance. The wall yielded instantly, crumbling under his blow. Cracks spread like lightning across its surface, spanning several meters in all directions. With a deep, rumbling groan, the five-meter-wide wall trembled before collapsing entirely, shattering into countless fragments.
Beyond the ruined wall, several meters away, stood an ordinary seven-story residential building. On the sixth floor, a woman lounged idly on her balcony, cradling a small Pekingese dog as she gazed at the post-rain scenery. The moment she witnessed the wall's abrupt collapse, shock loosened her grip.
The tiny dog, sensing its owner's momentary lapse, wriggled free. Its small body tumbled from her arms, plummeting toward the ground from a height of over ten meters.
The woman barely had time to cry out, "My dog!"
Ling Yun, still reeling from the revelation of his newfound strength, was startled by her desperate scream. He looked up just in time to see the little dog hurtling toward the pavement, mere meters from impact.
Without thinking, he instinctively pointed at the falling creature and commanded, "Stop!"
A miracle occurred.
The dog, once in freefall, suddenly slowed, as though caught by an invisible force. It drifted downward like a feather, landing gently upon the ground without making a sound. Bewildered, it glanced up at Ling Yun, barked twice, then scampered away unharmed.
The woman gasped, both hands covering her mouth as she stared in utter disbelief.
Ling Yun met her gaze, his obsidian-like eyes flashing with a glimmer of silver that flickered imperceptibly. Without a word, he turned and walked away.
Years later, she would still remember that strange young man, his piercing gaze forever etched into her memory—like a specter from a dream, impossible to forget.
Ling Yun hurried home, relieved to find the house empty. His parents had yet to return. Wasting no time, he rushed into the bathroom, washing away the grime and filth before changing into a fresh set of clothes. He bundled up his tattered garments and discarded them in the apartment's garbage chute.
No matter what, he wouldn't let his parents worry about him.
If not for this inexplicable transformation, he might still be lying unconscious in that rain-soaked alley, waiting for some kind-hearted passerby to discover him. But fate had taken a different course. Not only had his wounds vanished without a trace, but he had also awakened to a power beyond comprehension.
And with this power, the path before him had forever changed.
As evening fell, Ling Yun's parents returned home from work. As usual, the family engaged in a brief, casual conversation before his mother went to prepare dinner. After their meal, they watched television for a while before his parents retired early for the night. Ling Yun, however, settled in front of the computer in the living room and began browsing the internet.
He needed to uncover the truth behind the strange transformation in his body. Since he couldn't confide in anyone, the internet was his best recourse. Fortunately, the vast wealth of online information and the efficiency of modern search engines meant that he could seek answers without fear of exposing his secret.
Two hours passed, and through diligent searching, Ling Yun managed to find a trove of relevant information. His transformation was real—he had undeniably awakened a mysterious power. Of particular note was his ability to manipulate objects from a distance, a phenomenon often referred to online as "telekinesis" or a "psychic force field." The ability to control matter through sheer will was nothing short of extraordinary.
Yet, despite his efforts, he found no definitive explanation for the cause of his mutation. While there were numerous scattered references to similar phenomena, most were relegated to the realms of fiction—fantasy novels, science fiction films, and speculative theories. There were no real-world cases that could serve as reliable examples.
The only plausible explanation he encountered was the possibility of genetic mutation. But even that remained purely speculative. And no matter how he mulled it over, Ling Yun couldn't fathom why he, of all people, would undergo such a transformation.
Could it be that getting beaten up triggered a genetic mutation? He let out a wry chuckle as he shut down the computer and returned to his room. If that were the case, wouldn't everyone be lining up to get mercilessly thrashed in hopes of gaining superpowers?
For the rest of the night, Ling Yun immersed himself in practicing his telekinetic abilities. He retrieved a few chopsticks and spoons from the kitchen, then lay on his bed, directing them to float mere centimeters from the ceiling, forming intricate shapes and patterns with his mind alone.
The room was shrouded in darkness, the lights long since extinguished. Yet, to his surprise, his vision had undergone a transformation. Light, or the lack thereof, no longer posed any obstacle to his sight. Even in absolute darkness, he could perceive the finest details—such as the delicate carvings on the handle of a spoon from three meters away. This was more than mere night vision. After all, even those with the sharpest eyesight would struggle to discern such minute details in broad daylight.
Curious, he picked up a mirror and examined his reflection. Unlike nocturnal creatures whose eyes glowed eerily in the dark, his remained unchanged—normal, unassuming. This reassured him. However, he failed to notice that the moment he lowered the mirror, his reflection did not immediately vanish. Instead, it lingered, gazing outward with a chilling, icy stare.
Ling Yun soon discovered that his telekinetic power was not without its limits. When he attempted to simultaneously manipulate five pairs of chopsticks and five spoons into forming Chinese characters on the ceiling, an excruciating headache erupted within his skull, forcing him to halt his efforts.
The limitation, however, seemed to apply only to intricate control. If he simply moved objects without fine precision, he could easily lift over a hundred kilograms with his mind. However, distance posed a constraint—beyond ten meters, his telekinetic influence weakened significantly until it dissipated entirely. He didn't yet understand how to strengthen this ability, but he instinctively knew that continuous practice would make his powers grow ever stronger.
Unbeknownst to him, his mindset had begun to shift. The anger and humiliation from being beaten and humiliated by Zhang Yunfeng and his gang had long since dissipated. The overwhelming power granted by his transformation had made him acutely aware of the vast gulf that now separated him from ordinary people. It was no longer a matter of mere personal grievance—it was a chasm of existence itself.
It was akin to an ordinary man suddenly winning a billion-dollar lottery. The material wealth and newfound perspective would instantly set him apart from his former peers. Past conflicts and resentments, once all-consuming, now seemed utterly trivial—almost laughable in retrospect.
As the night deepened, Ling Yun finally drifted into sleep.
Far above, beyond the highest reaches of the sky, hidden within the endless darkness of the heavens, an enormous, eerie, blood-red eye loomed. It pierced through the thick layers of clouds, its cold, unfeeling gaze slicing through countless barriers of space and matter, fixating unwaveringly upon the sleeping figure of Ling Yun below.