The afternoon sun of 2800 never truly sinks into the embrace of a crimson horizon. It merely dims artificially, obstructed by layers of orbital stations and weather-control satellite grids that encircle the Earth's atmosphere as if the planet were a prisoner in a golden cage. Its light filters into a static bronze hue, illuminating the school sports field with a cold, pale glow.
There, the air felt heavy, vibrating with the constant hum of exoskeleton engines worn by the students. The hissing of hydraulics and the friction of fine metal served as the background music for that afternoon's physical endurance simulation.
"Thirty seconds slower than the average record, Zhaotian," the voice was flat, cold, and soulless. It belonged to an X-500 series robotic instructor, staring at him with dim red optical sensors. "Without cybernetic muscle synchronization or synthetic hormone enhancement, you are merely wasting precious calcium in your body. Your physical efficiency is below the red line."
Zhaotian stood frozen at the finish line. His chest heaved rapidly; his breath was labored and ragged. His lungs felt as if they were burning, as if he had just inhaled the residual combustion dust of the old industrial age. Sweat drenched his temples, dripping onto the sterile synthetic track.
Around him, Xu Feng and a dozen other cousins looked like statues untouched by fatigue. They stood tall without a single drop of sweat. The sensors in their smart uniforms had detected the rise in body temperature since the start of the run, automatically injecting stimulants into their veins and activating internal cooling systems to keep them in peak condition. For them, sports were no longer a matter of physical struggle, but a matter of machine calibration.
"I've told you many times, Zhaotian," Xu Feng passed by with an incredibly light stride, his metal legs integrated into his shins clinking softly on the track. He looked back with a dismissive smirk. "That genius brain of yours won't be able to move this weak flesh. You're a 'Lubis,' right? Isn't that name supposed to sound strong and fierce? Turns out it's just an empty string of letters."
Zhaotian did not retaliate. He simply reached for a white towel, wiped the sticky sweat from his neck, and began to walk away from the mechanical clamor of the school grounds. He didn't need Feng's mockery to realize that, biologically, he was lagging far behind. However, beneath his exhaustion, a conviction pulsed in his head something he had gleaned from ancient books: The power of machines is limited by batteries and spare parts, while the pure potential of a human is infinite.
Instead of returning to the high-tech Xu clan residence, Zhaotian's feet led him toward the outskirts of Akar Rambutan Village. He walked toward an area avoided by many a mercury-colored river flowing silently beneath an old, rusted magnetic bridge. There, the signals of digital life faded; security sensors rarely scanned this place as it was considered worthless. The air smelled of copper, old metal, and moss forced to grow upon concrete.
Beneath the damp, dark bridge, Zhaotian caught sight of a shadow. An old man sat leaning against a concrete pillar eroded by time. His clothes were merely a pile of tattered rags without heating circuits a stark contrast in a world where clothing automatically regulated temperature. In his hand, he clutched a small, cracked ceramic bottle.
Zhaotian was stunned. Pity pierced his heart at the sight of a human living without basic technological assistance in this era. He reached into his pocket, pulled out a silver nutrition capsule the remainder of his school rations containing enough energy to survive the day and placed it carefully beside the man.
"This is for you, Grandfather. Take it," Zhaotian whispered softly.
The old man slowly opened his eyelids. Zhaotian flinched. Those eyes did not look like the eyes of a desperate vagrant; they were incredibly clear, sharp, and radiated an aura that seemed capable of dissecting layers of skin to peer into Zhaotian's soul. The man did not touch the capsule. Instead, he looked up, staring at the bronze sky covered by the orbital layers.
"Ah... on this Earth, the Qi has run bone-dry," the old man muttered. His voice was hoarse and heavy, like the sound of large stones grinding at the bottom of a dead river. "It is truly like a desert that has been squeezed until the very last drop."
Zhaotian's footsteps froze. His heart hammered against his ribs, as if trying to leap out. Qi. That term... he had only ever found it in the forbidden manuscripts he read secretly in the corners of the library.
"No wonder..." the old man continued, ignoring Zhaotian's shock. He sipped the contents of his ceramic bottle, which turned out to be just ordinary fresh water. "No wonder that in the last hundred thousand years, not many have succeeded in reaching the peak of cultivation on this planet. The Heavens have truly locked this place away as a giant graveyard."
"Grandfather, what are you saying?" Zhaotian summoned the courage to take one step closer. "You know about Qi? Where did you get that term? That is knowledge considered superstition by the outside world."
The old man laughed cynically, showing a row of incomplete teeth, yet his smile felt full of secrets. "Everyone on Mars knows about Qi, boy. There, the energy still breathes, even if only in remnants. At least, they can still build a cultivation base if they are lucky enough. But on Earth? This place is just the scraps of a civilization too proud of the wires, iron, and chips in their heads."
Zhaotian was speechless. Mars? The Red Planet he had known through school lessons as a harsh military colony and a barren center of heavy industry it turned out it held secrets about spiritual energy?
"Why... why are you telling me all this?" Zhaotian asked, his voice trembling.
The old man stared intently at Zhaotian, then gave a strange smile that made the hair on Zhaotian's neck stand up. "Because you have a strange pair of eyes. Eyes that refuse to see the world through the digital screen on your wrist. But remember, boy... in this parched world, you won't find water just by digging into the earth. You must become the well itself."
Suddenly, a loud drone broke the atmosphere. A security patrol ship flew low over the bridge, emitting a blinding, cold blue scanning light. Zhaotian reflexively ducked, hiding his face to avoid detection by the automated facial recognition system.
However, when he looked up again just seconds later, the space under the bridge was empty. Silent.
The old man had vanished without a trace, as if he were merely a ghost from the past. Only the silver nutrition capsule remained lying untouched on the dusty ground, a silent witness that the encounter had been real.
Zhaotian stood in the haunting silence. The information hit his logic like a cyber-storm. All this time, he felt his meditation was in vain not because his method was wrong, but because he was trying to fish in a pond that had been dry for thousands of years.
He walked home with his mind in a violent turmoil. On the way, he passed the rows of golden-glowing rambutan trees. He used to admire their beauty as the pinnacle of genetic engineering, but now that light looked like heavy makeup on the face of a frozen corpse. Fake and dead.
That night, in his quiet room, Zhaotian sat cross-legged once more. He no longer tried to seek or draw energy from the empty air around him. He closed his eyes, focusing his entire consciousness inward, remembering the mysterious old man's words: You must become the well itself.
He clenched his fists tightly. The name "Lubis" at the end of his name suddenly felt heavier and hotter, as if the name were a seal demanding to be broken.
"If Earth is a dry prison," Zhaotian whispered into the darkness of his room, "then I will be the only one who stays thirsty until I find the way to Mars."
Zhaotian closed his eyes deeply. He didn't know how yet, but that night, for the first time, his pure curiosity had mutated into an ambition as cold as ice and as sharp as a sword.