Why are all of us who transmigrated at the same time demons?

Paradox: The recognition of the existence of the theory of "Yi" is itself a high risk of pollution/transformation.

"Ghosts take form from resentment, bound by rules, and can still be controlled; demons are the dregs of rules, without desire or want, only knowing how to devour the laws, and are the poison of ghosts; the 'Xi' is the outline of all things, the foundation of all principles, touching it will turn the body into traces of the Dao, and the will return to the torrent; as for the 'Yi'... the 'Yi' is the end of 'nothingness', the return of 'being' to the void. The 'reality' we establish (?) is nothing more than a floating illusion on the surface of the 'Yi'."

Experimental record: An attempt was made to construct a microscopic artificial "rule field barrier" using refined (suspected slag-grade residue).

<Start of Recording>

Barrier formation successful…stable…99.99% suppression rate of standard Class A ghost-like rules…induction of Hitler contact response…failed…sensor detected…some kind of…retrograde fluctuation? …from the front of the sequence…instrument reading…reverse tracing…pointing to…

The research equipment suddenly stopped, its physical structure decomposing into high-speed particles within 0.2 seconds. Simultaneously, the background noise level in the laboratory plummeted to absolute zero (physically impossible). The monitoring screen showed only a tiny, almost perfect, pure black area remaining at the researcher's position, creating a visual sense of "absence" (which disappeared after 0.5 seconds). At the same time, the recording medium (solid-state storage) physically fractured into basic granular powder.

<End of record - Experiment terminated and all relevant substances and information sealed away is a contrarian concept and a taboo>

1. Sequence Structure

Human: A fragile material form, dependent on logic and senses, easily corrupted by rules (can combine with ghosts).

Ghost: The manifestation of gaps in the rules, anchored to the rules by obsession, and restrained by those who understand the rules (a conventional threat).

Zhan: Rule Corpse/Void Core, passively disintegrates Ghost-level rules (the natural enemy of Ghosts, immune to physical attacks).

Xi: The embodiment of the laws of the universe, who establishes the underlying rules (unobservable, understanding is assimilation).

Yi: Defines the absolute benchmark of the endpoint (the ultimate zero that transcends existence/nothingness).

2. Core Contradiction

There exists an absolute cognitive gap between levels (higher-dimensional existence crushes lower-dimensional existence by rules). The essence of transformation is the cognitive collapse and reconstruction of the form of existence (such as the fear of ghosts actually being the dismantling of the rules governing ghosts).

3. The Supreme Divinity: The Absolute Null Baseline

The impersonal concept symbolizes the "complete annihilation of the logic of existence".

It manifests as an ineffable ultimate stillness (a state of dissolution of all rules/meaning).

The sequence itself is a process of sinking toward "Yi" (all things eventually return to the baseline).

Paradox: Cognition of "Yi" accelerates self-deconstruction (Appendix-2 Experiment).

Excerpt from "The Jade Record"

The lower is like the upper, and the upper is like the lower; thus the miracles of the One are accomplished.

All things originated from the One, and were created from the One through differentiation.

Human survival depends on the "barrier of ignorance" to higher levels of existence.

The "barbarian" beyond the boundaries of cognition is the end of existence, the origin of the universe's restart and destruction.

It is both ultimate destruction and the source of all hope.

The process from human to ghost to demon to Xi and finally to Yi feels very similar to my Heavenly Demon Supernatural Power "Nine Senses of the Heavenly Demon," so perhaps we can combine them.

-----------------------------

Addendum: In other words, perhaps... I should just die?

Chapter 187 Supernatural Revival: The Mortal World

The plum rains, like a shroud soaked in corpse fluid, suffocated Fuyin City for more than half a month. Mold spores floated in the air, and every breath felt like drinking the sweet and pungent putrid sap seeping from the depths of a decaying wooden coffin.

The cigarette between Huang Qiyuan's fingers, a scarlet dot, resembled the single eye of a dying creature in the dim light. "Bloody Hands, the Death Demon"—these six words were like six rusty steel nails, driven deep into his skull, making his nerve endings scream.

Six months ago, the bloody live broadcast, with the vengeful ghost splashing crimson on the screen, almost eroded the city's dam of reason. He had already built a defense, but a ferocious beast licking its claws in the shadows still slipped through.

Half a year is enough for a corpse to turn into bones, enough for moss to cover the inscription. But the blue letter paper that represents the power of that vengeful ghost still emits a cold, ominous glow in the deepest lead box of the Bureau of the Supernatural—it is still there, like a poisonous thorn buried deep in flesh and blood, silently swimming beneath the skin of Fuyin City.

A top-tier vengeful ghost, transformed from an out-of-control ghost tamer, is able to lie dormant in the nests of the living, neither drinking blood nor devouring souls, like a hibernating venomous snake.

A chill ran through Huang Qiyuan's teeth. Could it be that the ferocious ghost fetus had broken free of its old shell and entered a new one? If so, this new "container" would be another bloody gash opened in the ghostly realm of Niutou Village.

He rubbed his temples, his fingertips revealing greasy hair and the grime of a sleepless night. Under the pale white light of the bathroom, water droplets dripped from the faucet, splashing onto the porcelain basin with a monotonous, mournful echo, like the sound of an empty coffin. A towering figure suddenly crashed into him, carrying with it a stench of sweaty leather mixed with rust.

"Ma Lu!" Huang Qiyuan frowned, his voice not loud, but like icicles scraping against glass.

"Chief...Chief!" Ma Lu's rugged face twitched strangely, his eyes darting frantically towards the stains in the corner, avoiding eye contact. His timid posture suggested that an invisible hand was choking him.

Huang Qiyuan's heart sank.

A vengeful ghost resurrected? No, Ma Lu has only recently taken control of his second ghost; it's not time for it to resurrect yet. A probe, like a spider's thread, is quietly cast out. This reckless man, Ma Lu, cannot keep a secret.

"Changshi?" Huang Qiyuan pondered this unfamiliar word.

Ma Lu grinned with a slightly lewd smile: "Awesome...hehe, anyway, it's some awesome stuff!"

Huang Qiyuan knew that every Ghost Master had many quirks. For example, Ma Lu was born with a promiscuous body, and his so-called exciting things were nothing more than the filth of flesh-and-blood transactions.

Huang Qiyuan raised an eyebrow: "Fu Yin's newly opened club?"

Ma Lu's eyes widened, clearly not expecting Huang Qiyuan to think of this. He quickly waved his hand. Then he tried to explain, but being poorly educated and tongue-tied, he didn't know where to begin. After stammering for a while, he finally reached into his pocket.

Finally, he pulled something from deep within his pocket—a miniature door, neither wood nor jade, its touch chillingly cold, as if he were holding a corpse frozen for a thousand years. On the door, the markings of reincarnation twisted and writhed, the character "常" (constant) was written on the left, and "世" (world) on the right. On either side, crouching beasts with ferocious horns and hollow lion eyes seemed to be roaring silently.

Huang Qiyuan felt a slight tingling sensation on his fingertips, as if the cold lines on the talisman were greedily absorbing his body heat.

“Hold it while you sleep,” Maru winked, his expression comical like a peeling mask, “and you’ll see.”

Fifteen minutes later, in the director's office. Huang Qiyuan sank deep into his leather chair, his fingertips repeatedly tracing the cold, ominous door charm. As a seasoned veteran of the supernatural, he always treated such strangely originated objects with the utmost vigilance.

But today, my body inexplicably accepted it, as if drawn by an invisible spider web, which is somewhat abnormal.

He summoned his secretary, Ma Li, and ordered Li Xiao to lie in wait in the shadows. If anything went wrong, it would be time for a swift and decisive crackdown. Exhaustion overwhelmed his consciousness, and he closed his eyes.

In the hazy state, the soul seemed to be ripped from its heavy body, drifting towards the land of nothingness. At the edge of the vision, a towering gate, as majestic as an ancient mountain, stood with a thunderous roar, its shape identical to the talisman in the hand.

The two colossal beasts on either side of the door suddenly opened their golden eyes, and a cold beam of light licked him from head to toe. Huang Qiyuan felt as if he had fallen into an ice cave, his heart and soul pounding with fear.

Just as that merciless gaze was about to pierce his soul—the Gate of the Mortal World opened with a resounding crash! He practically tumbled and crawled, crashing headfirst into the boundless darkness beyond the gate.

One step forward, and the world changes suddenly.

The place he found himself in was a circular ancient temple, with twelve altars arranged solemnly like tombstones, guarding the center of nothingness. The altars were empty, devoid of golden statues or jade figures, and without any inscriptions or names. Yet, as Huang Qiyuan's gaze swept over them, twelve titles, powerful enough to freeze one's soul, were branded into his mind like a mark:

Lord of the Eternal Tomb, True Lord of the Return of All Bones to Ruins

The Formless and Myriad Transformations Lord, the True Lord of the Abyss of the Heart

The Venerable One with Golden Shackles and Copper Locks - The True Lord of Accumulated Treasures of Karmic Debt

Mother of Eternal Slumber, Dream Net Netherworld True Lord

Lord of the Earth's Veins, True Lord of the Thousand Mountains Prison

The Supreme Being of the Vast Ocean, the True Lord of the Dream-Drowning Boat

King of Burning Passion, Soul-Scorching Annihilation True Lord

Mother of Karmic Bonds, Heavenly Net Thread Granny

The Supreme Lord of Gluttony and Eternal Famine, the True Lord of Filthy Feasts and Defiled Cauldrons

The Lord Who Shatters All Sounds, the Soul-Capturing True Lord of the Heavenly Drum

The King of Punishment and Punishment, the True Lord of Decaying Wheels and Stagnant Sun.

Mother of Changes in Light and Darkness - True Lord of the Empty Mirror and Ghostly Light

Suddenly, countless overlapping murmurs surged in from all directions, like the clinking of copper coins striking withered bones, like the sobbing of the tide washing over the shores of the underworld, carrying a cold echo, directly pouring into his sea of ​​consciousness:

"A passerby shedding his skin, a wanderer carrying away the passing years."

Welcome to the eternal grave, the vortex of dreams. This place is called the Eternal World, a paradise where the defilements of the heart are cast.

Please open your eyes (if you still have eyes):

The Thousand-Faced Lord has donned a new makeup upon you; ask not who is imprisoned beneath the skin.

You Guangmu is thrown down from the stage; do not fear the prying eyes of the shadowy eyes.

All things drink the demonic nectar of the five aggregates, and intoxicate human lifespan—

I do not know the height of the blue sky or the thickness of the yellow earth!

Listen to the wind's whisper (if you still believe it):

The awakening of insects breaks the morning bell and evening drum, the thunderous sound pours forth silence.

The old man keeping watch on New Year's Eve plucks the strings of the water clock, offering eternity that is both heart-wrenching and bone-chilling.

The abyss of delusions is rising—can one drown in it?

Extend your hand (if you can discern flesh):

The silk-wrapping maiden spins the thread of fate, binding souls to grant them freedom.

The Burning Heart Lord ignites the flames of karma, burning away all seven emotions as autumn approaches.

This body is like a vessel, receiving the empowerment of the nine consciousnesses of the Heavenly Demon.

Take a step forward (if you dare to step forward):

The ground beneath my feet is not soil, but rather the filth and grease of a lavish feast.

Above my head is not the sky, but the whispered murmurs of a dream weaver weaving a slumbering curtain.

Reaching the end—

Blood Money Lord, golden shackles await your neck.

The inscription on the rock of the mountain-opening general is carved on your stele.

Who saw Young Master Ren riding a donkey up the cloud-covered peak?

Do not worry about the journey home (if you think of the journey home):

Using human skin as a boat to cross the River Styx

Will-o'-the-wisps served as lamps to illuminate the demonic path.

Amidst the silence, one hears tranquility.

This is true immortality!

Drink this cup—

Sipping the soup of karmic obstacles and demonic afflictions.

Accepting the gifts from the Twelve True Lords with a smile:

A handful of water from the River of Oblivion washes away past impurities.

Three sticks of incense, offered to the demon chief.

A ten-foot-long karmic entanglement, bound by cause and effect.

100 pounds of bone-corroding sand, sculpting real bone!

Light! Light!

Drink this cup to the last drop, and you will be forever tainted by worldly impurities.

I sit with all the bones of the world, and together we remain forever thin and defiled.

He Ru shed his human form and ascended to the Ghost Register.

Bathing in the pool, cleansing in the deep abyss,

Until the "barbarian" kisses your forehead, granting you painless and undisturbed peace!

The frenzied praise reached its climax in the deathly silence, only to vanish into the void in an instant.

Huang Qiyuan's knees buckled, and he involuntarily prostrated himself, his cold forehead pressed firmly against the base of a divine altar—the seat of the Lord of All Sounds, the True Lord of Heavenly Drum Soul Seduction.

The moment he made his choice, all the babbling receded like a receding tide. When he looked up, he was greeted by a distorted, writhing, bizarre land so strange it left him speechless... the land of the mortal world.

Chapter 188 Supernatural Revival: The Listening Slave

The lingering smell of the old office of the Supernatural Bureau of Fuyin City seemed to still be in his nostrils, but the world before Huang Qiyuan's eyes had been completely turned upside down.

He stood at the beginning of a muddy path, the soil beneath his feet dark red to brown, slippery and sticky, emitting a strange smell that was a mixture of old blood, rotting vegetation and heavy incense ash.

The air was as heavy as soaked cotton wool, and every breath carried a chilling dampness that penetrated straight into the lungs.

The most unsettling thing was the enormous black sun overhead. It wasn't pure darkness; it was more like a solidified, colossal heart, its surface covered with slowly pulsating dark purple veins, flowing with viscous, almost liquid shadows.