Zhou Huai looked at the scenery outside the car.

As the truck drove out of the deep tunnel, the scenery before his eyes suddenly opened up, yet instantly plunged into a gray gloom.

As a capital city as well, it was far from comparable to the imperial capital of Great Xia.

Low and dilapidated buildings were huddled together like countless rusted tin cans, arbitrarily discarded on this land.

The walls were mottled, exposing the grayish-black bricks within, and streaks of brown rust seeped from the window sills and pipe joints, resembling dried tearstains.

The narrow streets were potholed, pooling with murky sewage, emitting bursts of sickening, sour and rotten odors.

Overhead were spiderweb-like, disorderly intersecting wires, cutting the already gloomy sky into pieces.

A few tattered children chased and played beside the garbage dump, their faces stained with grime, but their eyes held a numb emptiness.

Zhou Huai also knew the reason behind this.

Tokyo City was divided into the Inner City and Outer City.

The Inner City was called Takamagahara, meaning the utopia where gods lived.

There, high-rises stood in forests and neon lights flickered; it was a place where Classer could live.

And the Outer City was called Ashihara, meaning the turbid world where mortals lived.

Here was the cage of ordinary people.

"Damn, this smell is really pungent!"

Takeda Masao pinched his nose, his face full of disgust.

"Every time I come back from the outside, I have to smell the stench of this group of pariahs first; it's truly bad luck!"

That underling, who was as thin as a monkey, immediately chimed in.

"Exactly! Boss, look at those deadpan faces of theirs; it's so annoying just looking at them."

"Each and every one of them lives like rats in a sewer, yet they keep desperately breeding. What's the use of having so many?"

Another person let out a weird chuckle.

"You don't understand this, Xiaolin."

"If they don't have a few more, what if they fail to draw one who can change jobs? Won't their lives be completely over?"

"Look at that family over there, hanging five kids' diapers at the door. They probably want to make up a table of bridge."

Roars of laughter burst out in the carriage, filled with undisguised contempt for the grassroots masses.

Zhou Huai's gaze swept across both sides of the street.

He saw a haggard-looking woman struggling to hold an infant, followed by three children of varying sizes.

Her belly was slightly bulging, clearly pregnant with another one.

In Sakura Country, an insurmountable chasm existed between ordinary people and Classer.

Ordinary people were naturally a tier lower than Classer.

They could only engage in the most humble jobs, earning meager salaries, and struggling to survive in the quagmire of Ashihara.

They could enter Takamagahara to work and serve those lofty Classer.

Cleaning the streets, clearing garbage, or becoming waiters serving dishes in restaurants.

But they could not stay overnight in Takamagahara, let alone enjoy the generous welfare and resources of the Inner City.

The only way out to change their destiny was to give birth to a descendant who could successfully change jobs.

Only at the age of eighteen, through the job-changing ceremony, could the Human Race know whether they possessed the talent to become Classer.

This was like a high-stakes gamble.

The stakes were the future of the entire family.

To increase the probability of "winning the prize," ordinary families in Sakura Country almost all chose to bear four to five children.

They pinned their hopes on illusory probabilities, yet consequently shouldered an economic burden so heavy they could hardly breathe.

Many families were shattered because of this.

Fathers, unable to bear the burden, ran away from home.

Mothers, driven by helplessness, fell into prostitution.

And those children who were pinned with high expectations, once failing their job change, would instantly fall from being the family's hope to neglected burdens.

Zhou Huai withdrew his gaze, with not a ripple of emotion in his heart.

The Law of the jungle was inherently the most cruel Law of this world.

The truck bumped along the potholed road for about half an hour.

The people in the truck bed had long been accustomed to this swaying, listing to and fro and dozing off.

Until the truck drove onto a magnificent cross-river bridge, that teeth-gritting jarring sensation suddenly vanished.

Replaced by a smoothness akin to suspension.

Zhou Huai's gaze passed through the gaps in the truck bed's railing, looking outside the bridge.

Beneath the bridge was a wide river surface with a gentle current, shimmering with a leaden light under the grayish sky.

And on the opposite bank of the river, the scenery took on a completely new look.

It was as if an invisible barrier completely isolated two drastically different worlds.

One side was Hell, the other side was Heaven.

Here was no longer the crowded and chaotic "canned buildings" of Ashihara, but skyscrapers in the true sense.

Every building was like a meticulously carved piece of art, with smooth lines full of a sense of power.

The road surface was paved with a pure white special material, clean and as good as new, without a trace of garbage or stains.

Pedestrians occasionally walked by, all of them impeccably dressed with arrogant expressions.

They and the numb, hollow pariahs of Ashihara seemed like two completely different species.

Even the air seemed to become fresh.

Here was Takamagahara.

The utopia where gods lived.

Zhou Huai withdrew his gaze, sighing inwardly.

No wonder those Classer so despised the pariahs of Ashihara.

Living in two worlds so drastically different, the sense of superiority had long penetrated their marrow, completely severing them from ordinary people.

Soon, the truck arrived at the Three Mouth Building.

This could be considered the lair of the Three Mouth Gang.

Although the Three Mouth Gang could only be considered a third-rate small Gang in Tokyo City.

But the number of Classer in the Gang was close to ten thousand.

There was a strict organizational structure within the Gang.

Like Takeda's squad, they were also called wild dogs.

Meaning the peripheral running dogs in the Gang, specially responsible for doing dirty and exhausting work.

Gang members of their level couldn't even enter the doors of the building.

They could only stand quietly at the entrance, waiting for others' arrangements.

At this moment, the parking spot had already gathered quite a few members of the Three Mouth Gang.

Densely packed, numbering up to a thousand, basically all like Takeda's squad, belonging to the wild dog category.

Everyone's face bore an expression mixed with numbness, brutality, and unease.

The air was permeated with the pungent smell of low-grade tobacco, sweat, and cheap alcohol mixed together.

The noisy discussions converged into a buzzing sound, hovering over the square.

Takeda Masao happily walked over to the personnel closest to him.

"Xiaolin, what on earth is going to happen today? Why call all of us over?"

The youth called Xiaolin, seeing it was Takeda, smiled and greeted him.

Then he shook his head.

"I don't know. I heard we're going to war with the Inagawa-kai; our turf in Shinjuku was raided by them."

"War? Just based on us wild dogs?"

A youth missing an incisor sneered, his face full of disdain.

"The big shots up top eat meat, and we can't even drink the soup. Why should we risk our lives for them?"

An older man next to him patted his shoulder and lowered his voice.

"Keep it down, you punk. Don't you want to live?"

"Here, we are just cannon fodder. Whatever those above tell us to do, we have to do it."

While they were talking and spouting nonsense, Zhou Huai was not idle either.

His Parasite was born every five minutes.

Over so many days, he had accumulated close to two thousand of them.

Now that it was rare to have so many Classer present, how could there be any reason not to make a move?