Chapter One: Rebirth in a Strange World

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Chapter One

Wanan County, Han Dynasty.

It was the dead of night, when the wind howled and lightning crashed.

Boom!

A thunderclap erupted, shaking the earth with a resonant hum.

Lightning tore open the darkness, illuminating Wanan County as if it were broad daylight.

At this hour, in the very center of the county, facing south, a mansion displayed white lanterns at its gate. The lanterns bore the bold character for "memorial," making it clear to all that this household was in mourning.

Whooooo—

The gale battered the lanterns, swinging them violently and causing them to clang against each other.

From a distance, one could see two tiny flames flickering within the lanterns, their eerie glow dancing in the darkness.

Under the pale light, the mansion appeared long-neglected and dilapidated, yet the lanterns were fresh and new, contrasting sharply with the decaying gloom of their surroundings.

The lanterns’ paper was pale pink, and under the light, it shone with a delicate luster, smooth and refined like a young maiden’s skin.

On such a stormy night, the lanterns’ paper should have been torn to shreds, and the flames extinguished—but for reasons unknown, no matter how the wind battered them, the flames merely flickered but never died, and the lanterns remained miraculously intact, even as their bamboo frames rattled incessantly.

In the blackness, the lanterns provided the mansion’s only source of light. Their glow illuminated the veranda, where a battered signboard hung, shrouded in a layer of black mist. Through the haze, three blurred characters could barely be made out.

Inside the mansion, two figures stood furtively in the courtyard, hunched and wringing their hands as they paced anxiously.

They glanced toward the gate, then, with faces full of terror, looked toward the main hall.

The hall’s doors had long been dismantled, and the panels were laid in the center of the hall, each bearing a corpse.

Each body was covered with a white cloth, stained and soiled by blood, reeking of a pungent stench.

Boom!

Thunder rumbled, the lanterns clanged, and the taller, thinner man finally could not bear it any longer and asked,

“Brother, do you think…do you think something might happen?”

His voice was young, trembling as he spoke, betraying the depth of his anxiety.

The other man was silent for a long moment, hands clasped, lips pressed tightly together.

Seeing his brother refuse to answer, the first man grew restless and was about to speak again when the elder finally responded in a low, cold voice:

“No.”

His voice was also young, but steadier than his brother’s.

“Our method of diverting the calamity, we bought at a high price from ‘Boss Zhang of the Paper Dolls Shop.’” He appeared calm, but as he spoke, his brother distinctly heard him swallow hard—a clear sign of fear, despite his composed facade.

“Paper Doll Zhang said that to fully resolve the curse plaguing the Demon Suppression Bureau, we must draw in a principal agent to bear the main responsibility, attracting that ‘thing’s’ attention, and luring ‘it’ to possess them. If the possession succeeds, as per Paper Doll Zhang’s method, the calamity will be diverted. Whether the principal’s fate is life or death, it will no longer concern the rest of the Bureau.”

The man was clearly forcing himself to stay calm, venting his terror through continuous speech:

“Thanks to Paper Doll Zhang’s guidance, we discovered the killing rule of that ‘thing.’”

Gulp. He swallowed again as he continued,

“‘It’ feeds on the life-soul of its host. Once consumed, the person dies an unnatural death.”

The other man, equally frightened, nodded in agreement:

“Yes. With Paper Doll Zhang’s help, we checked the county office’s household registry, found a suitable candidate, and brought her into the Demon Suppression Bureau to ward off the disaster.”

The first man replied,

“Correct. Zhao Fusheng’s birth date and fate are suitable—her blood has been dripped onto the Demon Command talisman, her name now appears among the Demon Suppression Bureau’s officers. The task is done; she is now the principal officer, and that cannot be changed.”

“With this girl as a shield, ‘it’ was indeed drawn to her. In the end, Zhao Fusheng died a violent death, and her parents suffered misfortune as well. The whole family perished.”

His brother continued,

“By rights, the calamity should be resolved, but brother, I still feel uneasy. It seems this matter isn’t truly over.”

“Impossible!” the elder snapped,

“You know the reputation of Paper Doll Zhang. It’s said he keeps a little spirit, and his methods are effective. If he said the curse could be diverted, then it will be.”

Despite his words, the eerie atmosphere of the night left him unsettled. As he spoke, he took several steps toward the hall, mustering his courage to peer inside—

The main hall was pitch-black, with three corpses faintly visible beneath their white shrouds.

Nothing seemed amiss; the hall was so quiet one could hear a pin drop.

Whoooo— The wind whistled through the hall, swirling around the room and emitting a low moan, like someone softly weeping, sending chills through the man.

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Crack!

Lightning flashed overhead, illuminating the two brothers’ faces.

They were eighteen or nineteen, identical in appearance—when they faced each other, it was like looking in a mirror.

“Wujiu, go take a look.”

The elder brother finally lost his composure and called out.

“Look…look at what?” the one called ‘Wujiu’ asked in a trembling voice.

“You…” The elder was about to speak when suddenly the wind surged again, slamming the gate shut with a bang.

The courtyard, previously faintly lit by the lanterns outside, was now plunged into darkness as the doors closed.

Facing the open hall, three corpses lay within.

Most crucially, beside one corpse, a spectral entity lurked. As darkness fell, the brothers’ hearts raced frantically.

The elder nearly suffocated from fright, raising his voice,

“Quick, open the door and let the light in!”

Both brothers’ minds flashed back to the scene in Paper Doll Zhang’s shop, where the pale, uncanny shopkeeper had handed them two lanterns, instructing,

“These are made from human skin; the oil within is rendered from human fat. As long as they’re lit, the ghost will mistake you for the dead, and won’t notice you, nor trigger its killing rule. If you endure until dawn, the ghost will have killed, the rule fulfilled, and ‘it’ will depart.”

Now, with the door shut, the lanterns blocked, the brothers—already jumpy—were terrified out of their wits.

‘Wujiu’s’ knees buckled, nearly collapsing, while the other forced himself to stay calm and shouted,

“Hurry up!”

“Oh—oh—” Wujiu stammered, scrambling toward the door, about to pull it open when—

Crack! Thunder rolled, lightning gathered.

In the sky above, thunder and lightning converged, lingering above the mansion.

The brothers could smell the acrid scent of burning ozone. The lightning paused above the mansion, then crashed down, striking the roof.

The eaves shattered, tiles exploded, debris scattering.

Residual lightning shot down, aiming for the corpse in the center.

At that instant, a soul from another world entered the body.

Zhao Fusheng’s last memory was staying up late, working overtime. Tonight, with thunder and lightning outside, she wanted to finish her work quickly and get to bed. Suddenly, she caught a faint, pungent odor—like a gas leak.

Her rental was a subdivided apartment, with thin walls. Next door lived a middle-aged couple, often quarreling. Sometimes, late at night, she’d hear the woman’s cries.

The walls were thin, not soundproof; the neighbors’ fighting and sobbing often disturbed everyone.

But in a city of strangers, people kept to themselves, no one pried into others' affairs, even if separated only by a wall.

Smelling the gas, Zhao Fusheng frowned and pressed her ear to the wall.

Tonight, the woman next door wasn't crying. Was something wrong?

She hesitated, thinking to call building management, when she suddenly heard the woman’s low laughter:

“We’ll die together—”

Then came the click of a lighter, and flames erupted.

A powerful blast tore through the wall; Zhao Fusheng was engulfed in fire. Her consciousness floated away, and as she slipped into sleep, she seemed to hear thunder and lightning.

A current crackled through her body, and, with it, a strange voice echoed in her mind: Restart the Hell’s Investiture of the Gods List.

Investiture List activated!

Eighteen layers of Hell sealed, divine positions not yet unlocked.

Unlock divine positions…merit…

What did it mean? What Investiture List? What eighteen layers of Hell?

Shocked, lightning coursed through her, making her convulse. An unfamiliar mourning hall, corpses on either side, an open door in the distance…

Zhao Fusheng wondered if she’d been struck by lightning, causing hallucinations. Then, unfamiliar memories flooded into her mind like a revolving lantern.

Her consciousness reeled from the assault, and everything went black.

Before losing awareness, she heard a strange man cry out,

“This is bad!”

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It truly was bad.

Zhao Fusheng thought of her solitary life, indifferent neighbors, and wondered if anyone would notice her accident and call an ambulance.

With that thought, her consciousness slipped into darkness.

Back in the mansion, the twin brothers were terrified.

Divine thunder had struck, blasting a hole in the main hall’s roof.

Amid their shouts of alarm, lightning crashed down upon the corpse in the center. The body lurched under the force, and the dead girl sat upright.

At the door, Wujiu paused, instinctively turning to look—just in time to witness the scene.

Under the lightning’s glow, his gaze met the girl’s pale face.

The shroud was pulled back; Zhao Fusheng’s corpse sat up, eyes wide, staring at him.

“Ah!!”

The man screamed, limbs weak, collapsing to the ground.

“Brother—brother—ghost, ghost! She’s turned into a ghost—”

Tonight was already cursed; the Demon Suppression Bureau had suffered misfortune for two years, most officers dead, and a ghost likely still lurking in the mansion.

The brothers were terrified, ready to faint at any disturbance.

Hearing his brother cry out about a ghost, the other nearly collapsed as well.

He forced himself to stay calm, turning to look inside—

Just then, the girl who had sat up slowly lay back down, sinking into sleep.

He did not see Zhao Fusheng sit up, and so breathed a sigh of relief. Seeing his brother’s hysterics, his expression darkened and he barked,

“Ghosts? It’s not so easy for a ghost to appear. It was just thunder, and you’re already scared out of your wits.”

“But I really saw her sit up, staring at me…” Wujiu, still sobbing, quickly looked inside when his brother scolded him.

The hall was quiet; under the flashes of lightning, he could barely make out the three corpses. The scene of Zhao Fusheng sitting up seemed like a hallucination.

He rubbed his eyes, uneasy, and was promptly scolded again:

“She’s been dead! After the incident, she wouldn’t close her eyes—we two brothers closed them for her, remember?”

Wujiu fell silent under the rebuke. The other clenched his fists:

“Quick, open the door. Paper Doll Zhang said the light of the human skin lanterns is special. The area it covers is a ‘domain of death.’ Once outside its range, we might trigger the thing’s rule, and who knows how we’d die.”

Annoyed and anxious, he gritted his teeth and declared,

“I’ll check inside, see if Zhao Fusheng is really dead or—” He broke off, mustering his courage and rushing into the hall.

Inside, the hall’s ceiling had a large hole, wind howling through, the three corpses lying quietly on their boards.

Perhaps because all three died unnaturally, the room was icy cold. Who knew if the ghost had left?

His heart pounded, teeth clenched, forcing himself to look at Zhao Fusheng.

She lay motionless.

Maybe it was just the strong wind and the lightning striking the roof that had pulled back the shroud, exposing her bloodless face.

She had died terribly—her fortune, longevity, and blessings all drained—and her expression was grim. The man, haunted by guilt, dared not look too closely, only glanced at her eyes.

Her eyes were closed; he breathed a sigh of relief and muttered,

“Wujiu must have lost his mind from fear—her eyes are shut, aren’t they?”

He didn’t dare touch her body or lift the shroud, so he failed to notice that beneath the cloth, the torn wounds from her throat to her abdomen were healing rapidly.

Her chest rose and fell, warmth returning to her hands and heart, and her nose faintly exhaled breath.

The man pinched the shroud with his fingers, draping it back over the girl’s face with a look of deep misfortune, then retreated from the chilling hall as if fleeing a plague.

Behind him, a shadow lurking in the darkness, poised to approach the brothers, seemed to sense something and turned back, vanishing once more.

“It’s fine,” the man said, unaware he’d narrowly escaped death.

He had entered and exited safely, emboldening Wujiu, who pulled open the wind-slammed doors.

But as the doors opened, sudden change erupted!