The next day, Lidi finally got to sleep in until he woke naturally.
He glanced at the digital clock.
11:46.
He had definitely overslept.
Even though he already knew Auntie Wency had called in sick for him, the feeling that he had wasted an entire day still left him uncomfortable.
What felt even worse, however, was the soreness running through every muscle in his body.
For some reason, he woke up aching all over, as if he had been put through brutal training all night long.
Maybe it was from last night’s fall… or maybe this was one of Sudadi’s symptoms.
Lidi struggled out of bed and washed up quickly.
He did not even bother changing out of yesterday’s clothes before heading out.
As for breakfast—or lunch at this point—he would decide after arriving at the hospital.
He stepped into the parking garage beside his house and tapped the rusted rolling door controls.
As sunlight gradually spilled inside, it revealed the vehicle that had accompanied him for the past five years: The Xingyue Model 31.
Streamlined in shape, painted in glossy white and blue, the car resembled a floating water droplet.
It came equipped with an anti-gravity system, a miniature condensed nuclear core, and even a quantum communication radio.
In other words, an utterly ordinary family car.
It had originally belonged to his mother before being passed down to him secondhand.
Although the vehicle had already been in use for over twenty years, its quality was still beyond doubt.
Of course, to car enthusiasts, this thing was practically a museum relic.
Lidi climbed into the driver’s seat, started the engine manually, gripped the steering wheel, and headed toward the hospital.
And that was exactly why his car was considered ancient.
Because he actually had to drive it himself.
Modern vehicles were fully managed by AI systems.
People simply got in, stated their destination, and could practically close their eyes while the car handled everything automatically.
But to Lidi, as long as the car could still move, who cared whether it had AI or not?
He liked driving his old relic.
Unfortunately, because he had left home far too late, traffic was now a complete nightmare.
Every few meters forward meant another forced stop, steadily worsening his mood.
At one intersection, the traffic light finally turned green—only for a massive cargo truck ahead to end up blocking the center of the crossroads because of congestion, making it impossible for anyone behind to move.
“Seriously?!” Clearly, that truck was not being controlled by AI.
Technology could evolve all it wanted, but some people still showed absolutely no signs of evolution.
Lidi could only wait helplessly for the next light cycle.
While idling there, his eyes drifted toward a shop across the street.
It was a butcher store.
Oddly enough, the owner was a sheep beastman.
That was… unusual.
Most meat nowadays was artificially synthesized, though some still came from native wildlife on the planet.
But for a herbivore beastman to sell food intended for carnivores?
That alone was enough to get someone ostracized by herbivore communities.
The lingering scent of blood was nearly impossible to remove—especially considering how strongly many herbivore beastmen discriminated against carnivores.
Lidi considered himself something of an omnivore.
Agricultural technology had advanced so far that most fruits and vegetables could already provide enough nutrients even for carnivorous species.
Even fox beastmen like him, known for being picky eaters, no longer needed “animal protein” to survive.
Unless someone belonged to a special species or suffered from certain illnesses, most carnivores could live perfectly fine on plant-based diets.
But that privilege only existed for beastmen living in powerful nations like his.
Rumor had it that smaller countries still trapped in endless wars continued to experience horrifying incidents of beastmen eating one another—especially famine-stricken nations driven into conflict.
Their citizens lived in constant fear.
Fear of missiles from unseen skies.
Fear of the carnivores standing beside them.
At any moment, you could become someone else’s next meal.
Lidi watched as the sheep owner skillfully chopped up a slab of Kikra meat before handing it over to a crocodile beastman customer.
The two chatted casually, even laughing together, as though they were old friends.
“A herbivore who doesn’t discriminate against carnivores… that’s rare.” But not long after the crocodile beastman left the store, synchronized chanting echoed from several streets away.
A marching crowd dressed in green uniforms came into view.
It was the infamous extremist vegetarian organization: The Prairie Peace Coexistence Organization.
Or simply— Grass Union.
The moment nearby beastmen spotted the procession, expressions of irritation spread across their faces.
People hurried away in the opposite direction, while shop owners rapidly pulled down metal shutters one after another.
The sheep owner also moved to close his store, but perhaps due to old age, his movements were too slow.
Just as he was about to shut the gate, the marching crowd surrounded him.
Several beastmen rushed inside the shop and immediately began smashing the windows.
Hanging cuts of meat were ripped down and thrown across the floor before someone set them ablaze.
Within moments, the entire storefront was burning.
The scent of roasted meat soon spread through the air—strong enough that even Lidi could smell it from inside his car.
As for the sheep owner himself, Lidi could no longer see clearly from where he sat.
He could not make out what the crowd was screaming either.
But he could easily imagine the old sheep’s fate.
Nearby, several larger and stronger-looking beastmen attempted to stop the rioters, but the protest crowd vastly outnumbered them, and many carried weapons.
That made intervention far more difficult.
Others simply stood around filming videos.
Many were calling someone.
As always, there were more spectators than rescuers.
“Someone’s probably dead already… where the hell are the Black Guards?” The Black Guards were the nation’s law enforcement force.
They possessed absolute legal authority.
And if they came to arrest you, resisting was the last thing you should try.
The weaponry and equipment they carried were far beyond anything ordinary civilians could fight against.
Sure enough, only minutes later, several figures descended from the sky.
Clad in black composite armor, their visors reflected cold flashes beneath the sunlight.
Magnetic turbulence whipped their dark capes violently behind them, making them appear less like soldiers and more like black gods descending from above.
The Black Guards had arrived.
Using anti-magnetic propulsion devices mounted on their backs, they reached the crime scene through controlled flight.
Their speed and efficiency were precisely why this nation remained secure— —or at least, as secure as a crime-ridden society could be.
The appearance of the Black Guards immediately scattered the protesters like startled birds, sending them fleeing in every direction.
Outnumbered, the Black Guards could only split up and pursue them individually.
Meanwhile, the sheep owner now lay motionless on the ground.
The odds of survival looked grim.
Not far away, the sound of sirens approached.
An ambulance.
Maybe it even belonged to the same hospital Lidi was heading toward.
For a brief moment, he wondered if he could hitch a ride there instead.
The thought earned only a bitter laugh from himself.
At this point, Lidi had become numb to demonstrations that casually trampled over lives like this.
Incidents like these happened almost every single day, and scenes like the one before him were hardly rare anymore.
Discrimination from herbivores toward carnivores had long become normal.
Nobody questioned whether violence would happen anymore.
Only when.
Had the government tried solving the issue?
Here was the joke: Out of every ten officials in government, nine were herbivores.
And the remaining one was a lion still learning how to eat grass.
Lidi had already given up on this world.
He did not understand why he had to live in a society like this.
Why everyone treated such madness as normal.
Why nobody seemed disturbed by it.
And most of all— why he himself had been born a carnivorous fox beastman.
Finally, the next green light arrived.
And once again, another cargo truck got stuck right in the middle of the intersection.
That was the final straw.
Lidi furiously slammed the horn several times to vent his frustration.
And then— he suddenly felt something hard inside his pocket.
Reaching in, he pulled out a USB drive.
Matte black.
No company logo.
No markings whatsoever.
“Did I accidentally bring this back from the company…?
Whatever, I’ll check what’s inside later.” Without thinking much about it, he tossed the USB into the cup holder beside him and continued enduring the endless traffic jam.
…
Somewhere inside an abandoned underground sewer, damp cold air slithered endlessly around the floor like living snakes.
Occasional light from outside leaked through rust-eaten holes in the pipes above, bringing fleeting traces of warmth into the ruins— but never enough to resist the endless darkness swallowing the place whole.
A small beastman dressed entirely in black moved silently through the depths of the tunnel.
Her hood concealed most of her figure as her boots stepped across muddy puddles, sending faint ripples through the filthy water.
She carried no flashlight.
Nor did she draw her weapon.
There was little left here to guard against anyway.
Ahead of her, a familiar figure lay motionless among collapsed steel beams like a shattered statue.
Scattered corpses of beastmen surrounded him, evidence of a short yet vicious struggle.
And the most obvious trait shared among those corpses— their green eyes.
The small beastman stopped beside him and slowly crouched down.
Her gaze settled on the lifeless eyes before her as she spoke quietly.
“So this was your escape plan… nightwalker.” She gently brushed the dried blood from the lynx beastman’s face, her movements restrained yet carrying an indescribable tenderness.
At the very end, nightwalker had clearly fought with the resolve to die, making a final stand against the Green-Eyes hunting him down.
Only this time— her support never arrived in time.
The small beastman searched through nightwalker’s equipment.
Every pocket she checked was empty.
Even his communication device had been destroyed.
Not a single trace remained behind.
With a quiet sigh, she rose to her feet and activated the communicator behind her ear.
“Codename nightwalker confirmed dead.
Classified materials have not been recovered.
Requesting cleanup team support.” A man’s voice answered through the communicator, distorted slightly by static.
“A nearby recovery unit is already on its way.
Confirming zero results, Dawnwalker?” Dawnwalker picked up a rusted steel rod nearby and used it to prod through the surrounding corpses while searching their clothing.
“If you count seven dead Green-Eyes… then yes, that’s everything.” Then something crossed her mind.
“Did nightwalker encounter anyone during his escape route?
Especially physical contact.” Silence lingered briefly on the other side before the voice replied.
“According to surveillance records, he briefly made contact with a fox beastman near White Egret Second Street.
Looked like he shoved the individual to the ground before leaving.” A faint gleam flashed across Dawnwalker’s blue eyes.
Just as expected.
“Understood.
Headquarters, investigate that fox beastman immediately.
Our operation may not have failed after all.” The transmission ended.
Dawnwalker stood there silently, lowering her gaze toward nightwalker’s cold corpse.
The corner of her lips moved almost imperceptibly, like a quiet sigh.
“Don’t worry.
I’ll clean up the mess you left behind.” She turned and walked away.
Her figure slowly disappeared into the darkness of the tunnel.
Beneath the black hood, a pair of glowing blue eyes shone vividly against the pitch-black surroundings— like candles burning in the night.
Bright.
Impossible to ignore.
Her hunt had begun.