It was deep autumn.
Withered yellow leaves spiraled down from the sky, adding a touch of color to the rigid, rough street.
Somewhere in Saffron City, in a dark and cramped alley.
Amidst a pile of carelessly discarded garbage, in a stream of filthy water, lay a gaunt figure.
A gaunt face, tattered clothes, and bare feet covered in mud.
The figure was still, as if its heartbeat had ceased.
Only the hand on its chest clutched a red and white Poké Ball tightly.
Fingertips were pale, and veins stood out.
Suddenly, the person's eyelids fluttered, and with a rapid gasps, he abruptly sat up from the ground.
His eyes, as if covered by a layer of gray mist, were filled with confusion, which gradually turned clear.
Memories surged like a rushing spring, recklessly assaulting his consciousness.
He sat for a while.
Only then did he gradually understand his situation.
His name was Xia Yan, born into a poor family in Saffron City. His parents had died early from overwork. He had scavenged through garbage, eaten filth, stolen things, and slept on the streets. He was the most typical of Saffron City's lowest residents.
Since birth, he had only one goal: to survive.
And now, the original Xia Yan was dead, and the one who had awakened again was an ordinary person from a distant world.
"I'm... still alive?" he said with disbelief.
He looked down.
The dirt in his fingernails, the faintly visible, emaciated ribs, and the Poké Ball clutched in his stiff hand.
Through the transparent red glass, a petite yellow figure could be seen inside.
"Pokémon..."
Swish.
A light drizzle suddenly began to fall from the sky, veiling the entire city in a layer of gauze.
Raindrops pattered against his frail body, and the cold seeped into his bones, gradually stealing away the little body heat that remained.
The biting chill swept through his consciousness.
Xia Yan felt the cramping in his stomach and the dryness of his lips.
But more than these, the piercing cold was what worried him the most.
He reached out his hand, caught some rainwater, and brought it to his mouth, slightly alleviating the dryness.
"This won't do. I need food, I need shelter, I need warm clothes."
Xia Yan was well aware of his current state.
His weak body couldn't withstand any hardship at all.
Not even rain.
"Big brother, that kid ran here!"
Suddenly a faint voice cut through the thin rain curtain and entered Xia Yan's ears.
Immediately afterward, there were several hurried footsteps.
Xia Yan squinted, supported himself on his knees with difficulty, and staggered to his feet from the filthy water. His feet, soaked in the water, gradually lost sensation and became stiff.
In the rain, three figures approached from afar.
Tap,tap,tap.
Stepping through the rain.
They quickly passed through the mist and appeared before Xia Yan.
Leading the way was a man with a fierce appearance and a hideous scar on his face. His ferocious gaze seemed to want to devour people.
When his sweeping gaze landed on the Poké Ball in Xia Yan's hand, greed became uncontrollable.
"Big brother, it's him!" The lackey next to the scarred man looked arrogant, pointing at Xia Yan, his narrow eyes flashing, and his depths also filled with greed.
Xia Yan recognized this scarred man.
He was a hoodlum who hung around this street, known for his ruthless methods and domineering actions. He could be considered the leader of some of the thugs.
But in the end, he was just one of Saffron City's lowest residents.
For people like them, who lingered at the bottom, the only way to change their fate was to obtain a Pokémon and thus enter the Trainer profession.
Trainers were the core of this world.
And Pokémon were the hardest fists in this world.
Without Pokémon, they would always be just a group of people who fought fiercely to survive.
And now, Xia Yan had a Poké Ball in his hand!
Crack, crack.
The scarred man clenched his fists, his gaze fierce, and walked towards Xia Yan.
With his current weak body, he simply couldn't withstand the fists honed from years of fighting.
No words, no need for words.
For people like them, whether it was grabbing territory or grabbing food, the hardest fist was the only reason.
Xia Yan knew this well.
Watching the scarred man getting closer and closer, he tightened his grip on the Poké Ball.
This Poké Ball was a hot potato, but it was also an opportunity to change his fate, and his only reliance at the moment.
His mouth opened slightly, and as his Adam's apple bobbed, the foul, irritating air was drawn into his lungs little by little.
He held his breath and concentrated.
Enjoying the burning pain in his lungs.
He pressed the button on the Poké Ball, and with a flash of red light, the Poké Ball opened, and a petite, yellowish-brown, segmented-bodied Bug-type Pokémon with spikes on its head and tail and seven pairs of pink abdominal feet appeared between the two.
Weedle.
A very common Pokémon.
To Trainers, it was synonymous with weakness, but to ordinary people, their gregarious nature and poisonousness made them creatures that should not be provoked in the forest.
Such a weak Pokémon, even smaller than the scarred man's fist, and not favored by Trainers, had become a sweet treat in the eyes of these bottom-level residents.
Seeing the Weedle, the scarred man was first startled, but greed quickly concealed it.
Desire can distort a person's perception.
"Do you know what this Pokémon is? Do you know how to command Pokémon?"
His expression was tyrannical, and his voice was fierce.
Trainers were not just people who owned Pokémon, they also needed corresponding theoretical knowledge, understanding of Pokémon's abilities, habits, and personalities, and knowing how to command them to fight and bring out their proper strength.
In the scarred man's eyes, people like Xia Yan had almost exhausted all their energy just to survive, so how could they understand Pokémon, let alone command them to fight?
Even if it was just a very common Weedle.
Xia Yan's face was cold.
Through the memories of his predecessor, he already understood that this world was indeed a Pokémon world, but it was not the utopian Pokémon world of "you're good, I'm good, everyone's good" that he remembered.
Here, humans being buried in the mouths of vicious Pokémon and precious Pokémon becoming food on the human table was not uncommon.
There was no absolute friendship between people either, but more of deceit and intrigue.
He wasn't a good person in his previous life, and having experienced the beatings of society, he understood the ugliness of human nature, so he quickly adapted to the current situation.
"Weedle, String Shot," Xia Yan said coldly, his voice weak but firm.
Hearing his command, the Weedle was stunned for a moment, then turned its head to search for the source of the voice.
Its pair of small black eyes met Xia Yan's unquestionable gaze.
Its small body trembled slightly.
The scarred man was stunned at first when he heard his words, but when he saw the Weedle's reaction, his smile became even more cruel.
He strode forward.
In his heart, he was faintly afraid, as if he didn't want to let the person in front of him say anything more.
The calloused fist was getting closer and closer.
But Xia Yan stood there without moving, or unable to move, and just commanded again:
"String Shot!"
Hiss, hiss, hiss—
Suddenly.
When the scarred man's fist was only a few inches away from his face, a white, seemingly thin thread quickly shot out and wrapped around the fist.
The scarred man was shocked.
He wanted to continue to exert force, but found that the thread spat out by the petite Weedle tightly bound his fist, making it difficult to continue swinging quickly.
Xia Yan took a step back, and his voice rang out again, so harsh in the scarred man's ears.
"Weedle, Poison Sting."
Swish! Swish! Swish!
The horn on Weedle's head lit up with a purple halo, and several tiny poison needles gleaming with cold light shot out, sinking into his strong arm.
In an instant, the scarred man's face turned red, and beads of sweat the size of beans oozed from his forehead. On the arm that had been hit by the poison needles, circles of purple quickly spread and swelled.
Poisoned.
The poison spread rapidly, and the scarred man staggered and knelt in front of Xia Yan.
With Weedle's current ability and poison, it was not fatal, but losing the ability to move was beyond doubt.
The two lackeys behind him saw that something was wrong and wanted to run away.
But they heard Xia Yan's leisurely voice coming, "Run?"
The two men stopped abruptly, turned around stiffly, and looked flattering.
"This big brother, no! This Trainer..."
Before he could finish speaking, Xia Yan
interrupted him, "Money, food, clothes, or death, choose one."
His frail body revealed an unquestionable coldness.