Volume 1, Chapter 1: The Betrayal & The Blood Rain Outbreak

The crystal chandelier suspended above the grand living hall of the Su family villa cast a warm, amber glow across polished Italian marble. The air smelled of expensive French perfume, hand-rolled cigars, and thirty-year-old single-malt scotch. Every piece of furniture in the five-thousand-square-foot estate radiated wealth, corporate authority, and immaculate luxury.

Su Ran leaned against the edge of a mahogany desk, her crisp silk business dress accentuating her immaculate posture. Her eyes held no warmth, only a cold, mechanical finality. With a heavy, deliberate thud, she slammed a thick leather-bound document onto the center of the marble coffee table.

“Sign it, Lin Feng,” Su Ran said, her tone sharp enough to cut glass. “The Su Financial Group just locked in a forty-billion-dollar merger with Zhao Enterprises. My board of directors will not tolerate a househusband attached to my name any longer.”

Lin Feng sat quietly on the edge of the velvet sofa. He wore a simple, faded grey jacket and worn denim jeans—clothing that looked entirely alien amidst the gilded gold frames and imported art hanging from the walls. His hands rested on his knees, steady and motionless. His dark eyes remained calm, reflecting the light of the chandelier without a single ripple of panic or regret.

Beside the desk stood Zhao Tian. He adjusted the platinum buckle of his tailored suit jacket, letting his arm linger long enough to display a limited-edition Patek Philippe watch encrusted with brilliant-cut diamonds. A smirk sat across his face as he stepped closer to Su Ran, resting a hand lightly on the back of her leather chair.

“Look at him, Sophia,” Zhao Tian chuckled, his voice laced with smooth disdain. “Twenty years. Twenty years of cooking soups, wiping down tables, and washing your laundry. Any real man would have built an empire in two decades. He spent it scrubbing floor tiles.”

From the adjacent lounge chairs, Lin Dong and Lin Xi laughed in sharp, synchronized mockery.

Lin Dong, nineteen years old, snapped his fingers while glaring at Lin Feng. “Honestly, Uncle Lin, you should be thanking my mother. She let you live under our roof for twenty years without asking for a dime of rent. But look at you—you’re still wearing the same cheap sneakers you wore five years ago. You’re a drag on our family’s reputation. Dong-ha’s top executives visit our house every week. Having a servant for a father-in-law is embarrassing.”

His younger sister, Lin Xi, swirled the ice cubes in her crystal glass of sparkling juice, her chin raised high. “He doesn’t even know how to order from a five-star menu, Lin Dong. Remember last month at the gala? He asked for plain tap water! Mother deserves a partner who actually commands respect in Sector 7, not someone whose greatest lifetime achievement is mastering the timing on a pressure cooker.”

Lin Feng did not interrupt them. He sat in total composure, observing the four people standing before him.

To Su Ran, he had been nothing more than a convenient, silent domestic shadow—a man who entered her life two decades ago, asked for nothing, expected nothing, and managed the entire household without complaint. To her children, he was a nameless appliance, reliable and beneath notice.

None of them knew the truth.

Twenty years ago, when the global power networks were secretly restructured beneath the surface of the world, Lin Feng had accepted a mandatory standby protocol. Protocol Zero required twenty full years of total camouflage, absolute dormancy, and zero public exposure. For seven thousand three hundred days, he had lived as an ordinary man, enduring the quiet sneers of the Su family while the orbital architecture of his true legacy completed its construction in silence.

Today was the exact final day of the twenty-year countdown.

“The terms are straightforward,” Su Ran continued, tapping a manicured nail against the top page of the agreement. “You waive all rights to Su Financial Group assets, the villa, and any spousal support. In return, I will grant you fifty thousand credits in cash. Enough for you to rent a small apartment in Sector 9 and survive for a few months.”

Zhao Tian took a slow sip from his scotch glass, his eyes fixed on Lin Feng. “Fifty thousand credits is generous, Sophia. Most discarded pets don’t even get a parting bone.”

Lin Feng finally shifted. He reached out, picked up the Montblanc fountain pen resting beside the contract, and pulled the leather binder toward himself. He did not turn to page two. He did not check the asset division clauses, nor did he look at the fifty thousand credit waiver.

He unsheathed the pen nib and brought it down against the signature line.

*Lin Feng.*

The ink dried instantly against the crisp parchment. The stroke was fluid, firm, and entirely unhurried.

Su Ran blinked as she watched him slide the document back across the marble table. She had prepared an entire speech to counter his protests, his pleas, or his demands for a higher settlement. His absolute silence left her words hanging uselessly in the air.

“You aren’t going to read the clauses?” Su Ran demanded, her brows knitting together tightly.

Lin Feng stood up. His posture was perfectly straight, his shoulders broad and set. Standing at his full height, the faded jacket no longer looked cheap; it seemed like a temporary cloak draped over solid steel.

“There is no need,” Lin Feng said softly. His voice was low, resonant, and devoid of hostility. “Your paper holds no value to me.”

Zhao Tian’s smirk vanished, replaced by a flash of irritation at Lin Feng’s complete lack of humiliation. He reached down beside the velvet couch, hooked his finger around the knot of a heavy black plastic trash bag, and tossed it onto the middle of the floor with a loud plastic scrape.

“Then take your trash and clear out,” Zhao Tian sneered. “Your old clothes from twenty years ago are in there. Don’t leave a single item behind. This villa belongs to a different caliber of people now.”

Lin Dong jumped out of his chair, stepping aggressively toward Lin Feng. He grabbed Lin Feng by the shoulder, intending to shove him backward toward the grand hallway.

Lin Feng did not flinch. He simply turned his head and looked down at Lin Dong’s hand.

The weight in Lin Feng’s gaze was not anger; it was the heavy, suffocating gravity of an apex predator looking at a insect. Lin Dong’s fingers twitched. A strange, instinctual chill raced up his arm, forcing his hand to slip off Lin Feng’s jacket like he had touched bare high-voltage wire. Lin Dong took a involuntary step back, his teeth clenching in unexplainable fear.

Lin Feng picked up the black plastic bag with one hand. He did not look at Zhao Tian, nor did he address Lin Xi. He walked toward the heavy double doors of the foyer, his footsteps rhythmic and unhurried against the stone floor.

At the threshold, Lin Feng paused. The heavy biometric front door slid open automatically, revealing the darkening sky over Sector 7. Cold, damp evening air rushed into the heated hall, instantly cutting through the perfume and scotch.

Lin Feng turned his head slightly, looking back at Su Ran one last time.

“You built your castle on sand, Su Ran,” Lin Feng said, his voice carrying clearly through the massive estate. “Remember this door when you try to knock on mine.”

Su Ran’s lips parted to sharp retort, but before she could speak, Lin Feng stepped across the threshold. The biometric door slid shut behind him with a dense, pneumatic thud, sealing the Su family inside their golden cage.

***

Outside, the atmosphere of Sector 7 had turned unnatural.

The sky above East Sea Metropolis was no longer black or indigo. A thick layer of dense, bruised crimson clouds hung low over the skyscrapers, churning like an open wound across the horizon. The air smelled foul—a acrid mixture of ozone, sulfur, and burnt iron that made the throat burn with every breath.

Lin Feng walked down the manicured stone driveway of the Su estate. Behind him, the heavy iron gates of the villa perimeter shut automatically, the security lights flashing green as the automated locks engaged.

High above the city, emergency air-raid sirens began to wail.

*Wroooong. Wroooong. Wroooong.*

The mechanical shrieks echoed from every broadcast tower across the metropolis, shattering the evening quiet. Streetlights flickered erratically, casting long, jittery shadows across the asphalt.

Moments later, the citywide public address system burst to life. The audio was distorted by heavy static, a voice screaming over the sirens:

“Warning! Emergency Category 5 Chemical Anomaly detected in upper atmospheric layers! All citizens in Sector 7, Sector 8, and Sector 9 must seek immediate hard cover! Do not touch rainfall! Repeat, do not—”

The broadcast cut into violent static before the warning could finish.

A single raindrop fell from the crimson sky.

It struck the hood of a sleek, black sports car parked on the curb outside the Su gates. The moment the liquid touched the glossy metallic paint, a sharp sizzling sound erupted. Wisps of white smoke rose into the air as the chemical droplet ate straight through the clear coat, burning down to bare, corroded metal within seconds.

Then, the sky tore open.

Torrential crimson rain poured down upon Sector 7. The rain was not water; it was a caustic, blood-red acid with a pH level of 1.8, saturated with alien pathogen structures.

Panicked screams echoed down the main street. Pedestrians who had been walking along the sidewalks were caught completely exposed.

“My skin! It’s burning my skin!” a man in a tailored business suit shrieked, collapsing onto his knees as the red droplets struck his face. Smoke rose from his jacket as the acid dissolved fabric and flesh alike.

A woman running for an awning tripped on the curb. The crimson rain poured over her back, sizzling against her coat. Her screams turned into guttural gasps as the corrosive liquid scorched her skin.

Cars collided at the intersection ahead. Drivers smashed into concrete barriers as the acid rain dissolved their windshield wipers and melted the rubber seals around their windows. Thick black smoke billowed from burning engines, blending with the red mist descending from the sky.

Inside the Su family villa, the thick reinforced windows muffled the chaos outside. Su Ran stood near the glass, holding her wine glass as she watched the rain streak down the pane. She frowned at the strange red hue, but Zhao Tian stepped beside her, resting his hand comfortably on her waist.

“Just an industrial leak from the chemical district,” Zhao Tian said smoothly, taking a sip of scotch. “Our villa’s filtration system is military-grade. We’re completely safe inside.”

Lin Xi laughed nervously from the sofa. “Look at those poor fools running in the street. I’m so glad we have this house.”

None of them noticed the strange red condensation beginning to pool along the outer marble foundation of their driveway.

***

In the middle of the main street intersection, absolute hell had broken loose.

The chemical pain of the acid rain was only the beginning. As the blood-red droplets burned into the raw flesh of the injured citizens, the Nightfall Virus contained within the rainfall entered their bloodstreams directly.

The man in the business suit stopped screaming. His body violently convulsed on the bubbling asphalt. His veins bulged against his neck, turning dark purple, then pitch black. His skin paled to an ash-grey husk within seconds.

When he stood back up, his movement was no longer human. His joints snapped into grotesque angles, his jaw unhinging slightly as cloudy, grey fluid leaked from his unblinking eyes. He let out a wet, guttural roar—the sound of a T1 Walker zombie.

He lunged toward the woman collapsed near the awning, his black-veined hands sinking into her shoulders with unnatural, superhuman force.

Screams of terror filled the intersection as dozens of exposed pedestrians mutated simultaneously. The street transformed into a meat grinder of tearing flesh, crushing metal, and roaring flames.

Yet, in the exact center of this nightmare, one man walked unbothered.

Lin Feng moved through the chaos at a steady, unhurried pace.

As the crimson rain fell from the sky, it did not touch his clothes. Two inches above his head, an invisible spherical distortion field hummed softly. The moment the acidic raindrops hit the invisible barrier, they flashed into tiny harmless sparks of golden light, vaporizing into thin air without leaving a single stain on his grey jacket.

A mutating T1 Walker zombie, its face half-dissolved by acid, sprinted directly toward Lin Feng with wide, ravenous jaws.

Lin Feng did not even look at the creature. He continued walking forward.

When the zombie reached within three feet of him, the invisible distortion field flared with a low, sub-audible pulse. The kinetic energy of the pulse struck the monster like a solid steel wall. The zombie’s skull exploded in mid-air, its body thrown backward twenty feet across the asphalt, crashing uselessly into a burning wreckage.

Lin Feng reached into his jacket pocket.

He withdrew a sleek, rectangular object—a biometric master key card crafted from dense dark-gold alloy. Its surface was engraved with a intricate dragon coiled around a heavy industrial gear motif. The gold lines pulse-glowed with a deep, rhythmic amber light that matched the beat of his heart.

Lin Feng raised the key card before his eyes.

He pressed his thumb firmly against the central dragon emblem.

*Click.*

A crisp, synthetic female voice—cool, mechanical, and infinitely vast—echoed directly into Lin Feng’s mind through his neural implant, completely muting the screams and sirens around him.

`[Biometric signature confirmed: Master Lin Feng.]`
`[Twenty-Year Standby Phase: TERMINATED.]`
`[Protocol Zero: ACTIVATED.]`
`[Deploying Sky Ark System. Establishing orbital link with Sector 7 Command Node.]`

High above the dense crimson clouds, far beyond the reach of the acid rain and the dying metropolis, a massive shadow shifted in low Earth orbit. A fortress of dark steel, plasma defense matrices, and continent-sized titanium plating began its descent toward the shattered world below.

Lin Feng pocketed the key card. He stood tall amidst the blood rain and the rising tide of monsters, his expression completely cold.

The twenty years of patience were over. The apocalypse had arrived, and he was its undisputed master.