I Save the World by Being Bitten by a Cat

In the third year of spiritual recovery, I awakened. Class C. Properties None. Officially recommended occupation: Intermediate queuing. Aunt Wang's silly son next door has a B-level water control, and his mother celebrates by handing out red envelopes in the community group every day. The scumbag classmate who used to sit next to me was an A-level lightning mover and was earning 100,000 a month delivering food. The beauty of the class has B-level mental perception and entered the mysterious department for training. And I, a C-level waste, was adjusting the filters for my dad's "Ling Zhi Direct Supply" live broadcast room at home, pretending that ordinary cabbage exudes "the gift of nature". Until that day, an ugly black cat with bat wings bit my finger. From then on, there was an extra spark on my fingertips. Sesame seeds are big. Blow on it and it will go away. But it cannot be burned. What's even weirder is that with that thing called "National Practice Assistance APP", my talent attributes changed from "none" to "??? (Data abnormal, re-test recommended)". The world tells you: C-level people should queue up honestly. But I decided to try - burn a hole in this road with a spark.