Chapter One: Shadow Hunter

Ding—

As the door of the small shop was pushed open, a gentle female voice sounded.

"Welcome."

At the same time as the voice rang out, a beautiful face appeared on the doors on both sides: big, wavy golden hair, bright red lips, a sparkling smile, radiating sweetness.

But the person who entered didn’t spare this beautiful face a second glance. Instead, he frowned and shouted toward the counter, "Brian Clark, tell Old David to change this face already, how many years has it been!"

The young man behind the counter, busy with a bottle of liquor, shrugged. "Can’t help it, the boss likes it."

"Forget it, getting Old David to change the welcome image is harder than getting him to quit gambling." Some people in the bar jeered, laughing loudly.

As the dream lover of all the men on the planet thirty years ago, that face on the door did indeed captivate many. Time is the cruelest killer; beauty fades easily. But before this killer could act, this beautiful singer and screen sweetheart perished due to a failed genetic transformation. In the first ten years, many people still kept this beautiful singer’s holographic images and digital posters in their rooms. But after all, thirty years have passed. Tides rise and fall, everything is fleeting, and new dazzling beauties have buried the old memories. Few are willing to look back on fantasies that no longer exist.

Of course, the owner of this bar, Old David, is a man of deep affection. Even though thirty years have passed, he still keeps the image of this beautiful singer as the bar’s welcome screen. Over thirty years, always the same. This is also one of the topics the guests here often talk about.

The newcomer curled his lips, clearly disapproving of the owner’s approach, but he couldn’t be bothered to say more. He sat down at an empty seat at a table, surrounded by familiar faces, and soon started chatting without ordering anything.

Brian Clark, the young man at the counter, took down a bottle of liquor called "Smile Under the Scorching Sun" from the shelf, placed it on the newcomer’s table, opened the cap, and then left to get drinks for other customers.

No extra words were exchanged. The newcomer kept chatting with the people around him, holding the uncorked bottle and taking a swig.

"Ha, this drink is still the best—strong and satisfying!"

Brian Clark smiled, returned to the counter, and recorded the transaction in the electronic ledger.

This bar was very ordinary, and so was the town it was in. Almost everyone here was from the lower class. In the words of people from the central district, they were "inferiors," or, more harshly, "lowlifes."

But lowlifes have their own joys. They like sitting in bars without fancy robots, served only by humans, drinking cheap but strong liquor, chatting with familiar drinking buddies about the day’s events, complaining about their exploitative bosses, gossiping about someone’s rumors—a simple and beautiful life.

The "upper class" in the prosperous districts don’t understand the happiness of these poor folks. It’s like a successful person in fine clothes, rushing along the road of money and power, occasionally passing a ruin and seeing a stray cat excitedly chasing flies. They’d think: How bored must you be to do something like that? No wonder such lives are so lowly.

What is lowly? What is noble?

The seven genetic grades—A, B, C, D, E, F, G—divide everything. Inferior genes make inferior people; superior genes make noble people. That’s all there is to it.

Everyone in this bar, including Brian Clark, was of F-grade genotype, which on this planet meant they were among the lowest poor. E-grade genotypes were given the chance to work in prosperous areas, while only those of D-grade and above could truly establish themselves there.

As for G-grade, that was the saddest group—born with defective and inferior genes, suffering from diseases that couldn’t be cured by simple treatment: severe deformities, premature aging, and other congenital illnesses. Brian Clark’s former girlfriend, Hannah Clark, was a G-grade genotype. Premature aging, congenital disease, and poverty meant that lovely girl never got to experience the best years of her youth.

Good genes and good genotypes produce good offspring, sometimes even better. Inferior genes and genotypes produce the opposite. The polarization only grows worse. So more and more people with low-grade genes try genetic transformation, but few succeed. Besides the huge financial cost, the chances of success are extremely low. The higher you go, the harder it gets. That’s why those with high-grade genes are so proud. And thirty years ago, that screen sweetheart became history because of a failed genetic transformation.

People are born unequal. It’s just that habit numbs you to it.

"Hey, Brian Clark, Old David hasn’t shown up for days. Still not back from his blind date?" someone shouted.