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

This shadow is the light of the mortal world; it distorts vision, shrouding everything in a morbid, writhing sense of unreality. The light of the dark sun touches the skin, bringing a cold, bone-deep corrosive sensation, as if invisible maggots are crawling beneath the skin.

"..." A familiar, normally noisy voice left only a deathly silence in the depths of his consciousness.

Huang Qiyuan felt a chill run down his spine—his nagging ghost, the vengeful spirit that usually chattered so much he wanted to strangle it, was now cowering in a corner of his soul as if being choked, radiating only pure, chilling fear. The suppression of ghosts by the mortal world was truly terrifying!

He steadied himself, forcing himself to shift his attention from the deathly silence within him to the bizarre and fantastical land before him. This was not the mountain of corpses and sea of ​​blood, the scorched earth of a battlefield he had imagined, but rather an ancient village where time and space had been distorted, and all the dark sides amplified.

As he calmed down, Huang Qiyuan felt that his hearing was unusually strong. Various subtle sounds from the village entered his ears and formed corresponding scenes in his mind.

Just as Huang Qiyuan was pondering this, a message entered his mind—"Listening Slave, Heavenly Drum Soul-Capturing True Lord, Entering the Path of Dao."

Guided by the power of the "Listening Slave," Huang Qiyuan cautiously entered the village.

The path wound its way forward, leading to a village surrounded by tall, twisted, dead locust trees. The village's architecture was bizarre and old: low, mud-brick houses leaned precariously, their roofs covered with thick, grimy thatch, some of which was glistening with pale green moss. Most of the windows lacked paper, leaving them dark and gaping, like countless peering eyes.

At the village entrance stood a dilapidated stone archway, its inscriptions weathered and eroded, leaving only faint, ominous marks. Beneath the archway, several white paper lanterns glowed dimly, their cold, bluish-white candlelight flickering and illuminating the indistinct character "奠" (meaning "offering sacrifice") on the lanterns.

Inside and outside the village, shadowy figures of people could be seen everywhere.

A figure dressed in tattered official robes, its hat and plume askew, was drifting slowly along the path. It had no feet, the hem of its robes hung loosely, revealing skin that was deathly gray and covered in lividity.

It carried a similarly dilapidated white lantern in its hand, the light of which illuminated its withered, lifeless face. Its cloudy eyes slowly moved, as if searching for something.

Under the old locust tree at the village entrance, several "villagers" in various poses were gathered around an ancient well that was bubbling away. The well water was as black as ink and emitted a strong fishy smell.

An old woman, her body bloated and her skin pale and swollen as if she had drowned, was scooping up well water with a chipped, broken bowl and handing it to a short, hunched monster with sparse, withered hair on its head.

The monster took the bowl, sniffed it greedily, and made strange "hoarse" sounds from its throat, creating an indescribably eerie scene.

Huang Qiyuan cautiously approached the village, trying not to attract attention. He saw a figure in a bright red wedding dress squatting in front of a house with a faded red cloth hanging on it.

The figure had its back to him, its shoulders shrugging slightly, making an extremely faint "rustling" sound, like a cat scratching a wooden board. As Huang Qiyuan approached, by the bluish light of another white lantern nearby, he saw a crack in the skin of the "bride's" neck, inside which seemed to be countless tiny, hairy limbs wriggling.

He immediately stopped in his tracks, feeling a chill rise up his spine.

The village wasn't completely silent. Suppressed conversations, cryptic whispers, stifled sobs, and the occasional burst of arguments quickly silenced... all sorts of sounds mingled in the thick air, creating a irritating background noise.

But these voices were all deliberately kept low, as if afraid of disturbing something.

Huang Qiyuan noticed that the "residents" in the village were wary of each other. When their eyes met, they revealed not goodwill, but cold scrutiny, calculation, and even undisguised greed.

A woman with a long snake tail, a beautiful face but venomous eyes, brushed past a burly man at the alley entrance. The man was wrapped in a thick, mud-caked raincoat, with only his eyes flashing red. Both of them subconsciously turned to the side, their hands quietly pressing on the "objects" hidden at their waists or in their sleeves. An invisible hostility instantly filled the air, but they quickly withdrew, as if nothing had happened.

He walked to a slightly more open threshing ground in the center of the village (although the ground was empty except for a thick layer of dark red dust). It was relatively more "lively" here.

A peddler dressed as a vendor, but with no facial features, only a smooth, pale skin, was hawking his wares in a hoarse voice.

Its load contained no ordinary goods, but rather some chilling things: strings of dried, strangely shaped claws; black chunks of flesh pulsating slightly in rough porcelain bowls; several bone needles wrapped with eerie runes and exuding a putrid smell; and even a few sealed earthenware jars with blood-stained talismans on their rims, from which something seemed to be striking the sides, making a dull "thump-thump" sound.

Several "customers" of different appearances surrounded the peddler, silently bargaining, the transaction process filled with probing and calculation.

When Huang Qiyuan's gaze swept over an item in the corner of the peddler's carrying pole, his pupils suddenly contracted—it was a small, familiar wooden talisman, almost identical to the "Key to the Eternal World" he had obtained from Ma Lu, only much older and stained with dark brown dirt.

"New here?" A hoarse voice, like sandpaper scraping, sounded behind Huang Qiyuan.

Huang Qiyuan's alarm bells rang, and he turned around abruptly. He saw an old man standing not far away, wearing a patched and greasy Taoist robe. The old man was hunched over, and his face was covered with layers of wrinkles like tree bark, making his features almost indistinguishable. Only his eyes were unusually bright, gleaming with an inhuman, murky yellow light.

He held a crooked black wooden staff in his hand, the head of which was carved with the head of a ghost howling in pain.

Huang Qiyuan looked at him warily, without answering.

The old Taoist priest didn't seem to care. His cloudy yellow eyes sized Huang Qiyuan up and down, lingering for a moment, especially on his chest (where the nagging ghost resided). His withered lips seemed to twitch, revealing a smile more painful than a grimace: "Tsk tsk...carrying a 'musical instrument'? Quite bold, daring to take the 'shattering all sounds' route...a 'listening slave' under the Heavenly Drum Master?"

Huang Qiyuan's heart trembled violently. This old Taoist priest saw through his secrets at a glance? The nagging ghost within him suddenly felt its fear intensify when the old Taoist priest's gaze swept over it, almost breaking through Huang Qiyuan's mental blockade to scream out. However, the omnipresent suppressive force of the old Taoist priest was like a cold iron hoop, tightly gripping it, leaving it only to tremble futilely in the depths of its soul.

“‘Listening Slave’…a servant who listens to sounds.” The old Taoist tapped the ground with his wooden cane, making a dull “thud” sound. The sound was particularly jarring in the quiet village, attracting indifferent or gloating glances from several demons and monsters around him.

“The newcomer doesn’t know the rules. In this ‘Village of Bones,’ if you want to survive and climb the ranks, just listening isn’t enough.”

"What rules?" Huang Qiyuan asked in a deep voice, trying to make his voice sound calm.

The old Taoist priest grinned, revealing his sparse, yellowed teeth: "Rules? Rules are... choosing sides."

His cloudy yellow eyes swept over the seemingly calm but actually cunning figures in the village.

"See that? Next to that 'Well of Resentment' at the east end of the village is the territory of 'Drowning Dream' Master's 'water rats.' That 'Weeping Grave Forest' on the west side of the village is a place frequented by 'Ten Thousand Bones' Master's 'bone collectors.' Our threshing ground is considered 'Heavenly Drum' Master's 'whistleblowing ground,' but it's only marginally related..."

He lowered his voice, with a hint of seduction: "The path of the Heavenly Drum Master is not easy to follow. It can shatter all sounds and seize souls... It sounds impressive, but if you're not careful, you'll become the 'broken sound' yourself, and your soul will be scattered."

The old man's gaze swept meaningfully across Huang Qiyuan's chest again, "Especially those with 'noise'... are more likely to 'explode'."

Huang Qiyuan sensed the threat and attempt to win him over in the old Taoist's words. This old Taoist was clearly also a cultivator below the Heavenly Drum Soul-Capturing True Lord, and his rank was likely higher than Huang's, the lowest-ranking "Listening Slave." Did he want to recruit him? Or was he trying to use him?

"Then what advice do you have?" Huang Qiyuan asked calmly.

"I wouldn't call it guidance." The old Taoist chuckled twice, his voice like an owl's. "Seeing that you're new here, let me give you a heads-up. Things haven't been peaceful in the village lately. The 'thread-pulling women' from 'Thread Granny's' side have gone a bit too far. Their 'karmic threads' are everywhere, and they love to bind people's souls to make puppets... especially newcomers, whose souls are unstable, making them their favorites."

He paused, his cloudy yellow eyes fixed on Huang Qiyuan, "You're carrying a 'noise device,' which makes a lot of noise and makes it easier for them to 'hear' it and use it as a good 'resonator'... Be careful."

As if to confirm the old man's words, a very faint "rustling" sound, like countless silkworms gnawing on mulberry leaves, came from the depths of the village.

The sound was extremely faint; if Huang Qiyuan had not been a "listening slave" whose hearing was unconsciously enhanced by the ordinary environment, he would have been almost unable to detect it.

But the moment that sound appeared, the nagging ghost within him convulsed violently, conveying a fear a hundred times stronger than before, a fear that almost tore his soul apart! It was as if that "rustling" sound was its nemesis!

The old Taoist priest seemed to have heard the voice as well. A glint of light flashed in his cloudy yellow eyes, and he tightened his grip on his wooden cane. He whispered, "They've come... Remember, in the mortal world, listening is for living, and also for... making others die faster."

He gave Huang Qiyuan a deep look, then his figure seemed to blend into the shadows as he silently took a few steps back and disappeared into a darker, narrower alleyway nearby.

Huang Qiyuan stood rooted to the spot, feeling a chill run from his feet to the top of his head. The black sun overhead continued its slow, pulsating dance, casting a thick, sticky shadow. The dark red earth beneath his feet reeked of decay. In the village, the various monstrous creatures continued their busy work or lurked about, a calm surface masking turbulent undercurrents.

The old Taoist's warning, the eerie rustling sound, and the deathly silent yet terrified reaction of the chattering ghost within him all made him realize with absolute clarity:

This world is not a wild battlefield, but a far more sinister and treacherous quagmire.

Each village is an independent chessboard, imbued with the power of different True Lords' paths. Every "chess piece" in it—whether human, ghost, demon, or monster—struggles, schemes, and fights to climb up that bloody and cruel path.

He, a newcomer and the lowest-ranking "Listening Slave," along with a "Sound Weapon" ghost who was being suppressed and trembling, had already involuntarily stepped into the center of this chess game called "Village of Dry Bones."

He clenched his fists instinctively, his knuckles turning white from the force. In this mortal world ruled by the Twelve True Lords, perhaps the first step to survival is learning to distinguish between "noise" and truly deadly "warning signs" amidst the endless strangeness and conspiracies.

Is the existence of the Eternal World a blessing or a curse for the present world? He looked up at the suffocating black sun, his heart turning cold.

Chapter 189 Supernatural Revival: Return

Huang Qiyuan's consciousness struggled to rise from the chaotic depths of the sea, and the first thing to return was not his vision, but his hearing, which had been amplified infinitely.

The monotonous hum of the ventilation fan in the isolation room exploded into thunderous drumbeats in his ears; the barely perceptible breathing of the guards outside the door transformed into a howling hurricane; even the gurgling sound of his own blood flowing became the roar of crashing waves.

This is the price of becoming a "slave to sound"—the boundaries of the senses are brutally torn apart, and the world is forcibly poured in with the most primitive, noisiest, and most painful sound forms.

He opened his eyes abruptly, the scorching marks of the ominous black sun of the mortal world still lingering on his retina. Before him was the cold ceiling of the isolation room of the Fuyin City Paranormal Bureau, and several familiar yet unfamiliar faces gathered outside the observation window: Ma Li's anxious brows were almost knitted together, her worry genuine;

Li Xiao stood a little behind, his face as dark as an ancient jade covered in dust, but the deliberately suppressed, overly steady heartbeat was as clear as a war drum to Huang Qiyuan's enhanced hearing—it wasn't tension, but the forced relaxation after some plan had succeeded.

At the forefront stood Director Chen of the Jiannan City Paranormal Bureau, whose old comrade-in-arms, Chen Shuping, had a face full of anger. But beneath that anger, Huang Qiyuan caught a very subtle, solemn scrutiny that only those who had been through thick and thin together for many years could perceive.

"Old Huang, are you alright?" Chen Shuping's voice came through the thick soundproof glass, carrying a cold, metallic quality. He waved for the others to step back and create some distance.

Huang Qiyuan propped himself up, his bones making a slight grinding sound that, to him, sounded like rocks cracking. His gaze swept over the crowd, his mind racing amidst the information overload from the "Sound Slave," instantly analyzing their "sound profiles": "Old Chen and Ma Li, their hearts are racing, their blood is rushing—the noise of doubt and worry… Li Xiao, ah, his outwardly tense heartbeat is a facade; deep down, his blood flow is as calm as stagnant water, and the vibration of his muscle fibers carries a lingering sense of relaxation… He knows, he knows better than anyone what happened!"

"I'm fine, Old Chen." Huang Qiyuan's voice was hoarse. His movements as he stood up seemed weak, but in the instant his center of gravity shifted, his left little finger subtly and unconsciously curled inward three times, as if unconsciously touching his belt, before releasing it. The movement was so small and the angle so tricky that no one except Chen Shuping, who was directly in front of him, could see it.

— Don't trust those around you. This was a secret pact they made in blood on a far more dangerous battlefield.

Chen Shuping's pupils contracted sharply to pinpoints, then returned to normal in a flash, his anger even intensifying, perfectly masking the turmoil within him. He strode forward, personally opening the heavy alloy door, followed closely by two fully armed team members whose faces were concealed by special masks. "Old Huang, don't blame me." Chen Shuping's voice carried an undeniable authority, as he clicked a specially made handcuff, gleaming with a dark golden light and covered in intricate runes, onto Huang Qiyuan's wrist. The cold touch of gold instantly suppressed an invisible agitation within him caused by the power of the mortal world, yet it also acted like a heavy shell, isolating him from the deeper connection with the ocean of sound.

"The regulations stipulate this. You've really messed things up this time, old friend," Chen Shuping said sternly. "These are specially made handcuffs to prevent you from being completely corrupted by something. Understand?"

His gaze swept over the crowd, and he quickly issued orders: "Xiao Ma, you personally go and invite Captain Lan from the Provincial Department, using the highest level of encryption! Captain Li, send two of your men to escort Lao Huang to the deep isolation room with me. You, immediately go find Ma Lü. In thirty minutes, in the top-secret conference room on the top floor, we, the core leaders, will have an emergency meeting!"

"Yes, Director!" Li Xiao responded immediately, assigning two team members who looked young but whose eyes revealed a maturity beyond their years. Ma Li glanced at Huang Qiyuan with concern and then hurriedly left.

The escort route wound through the paranormal bureau's labyrinthine underground buildings. Two "child soldiers," one in front and one behind, moved with precise steps and steady breathing, their sharp eyes scanning every corner, displaying qualities far exceeding those of ordinary team members.

Chen Shuping personally supported Huang Qiyuan, or rather, controlled him, and with his fingertips applying extremely slight pressure, began to rhythmically press on Huang Qiyuan's arm bones.

The vibrations from the tapping of the finger bones became weak and indistinct under the suppression of the golden handcuffs, but in Huang Qiyuan's enhanced hearing, these weak vibrations were amplified, analyzed, and recombined into a clear stream of information.

Three days later, in the top-secret conference room "Gui Xu" on the seventh basement floor of the Supernatural Bureau of Fuyin City.

The air was as heavy as lead. Chen Boping, the head of the Supernatural Affairs Bureau of Pingjiang Province, a man whose face bore a seven-tenths resemblance to Chen Shuping, but whose temperament was as deep and imposing as a mountain and whose eyes were as sharp as a hawk, sat in the main seat.

A thick stack of reports lay spread out on the table in front of him, his fingertips tapping unconsciously on the surface, the sound like muffled drumbeats to Huang Qiyuan's ears.

There were only a handful of people in the conference room: Chen Shuping, Huang Qiyuan (whose handcuffs were still on, but were connected to a complex life monitoring and psionic suppression device), Li Xiao, Ma Lu, and two provincial experts with restrained demeanor and wearing special glasses.

Huang Qiyuan stood in the center, facing Chen Boping. The "Eternal World Talisman" on his wrist was placed in a transparent container made of high-purity crystal and an unknown alloy. The talisman itself emitted an indescribable, dim luster that seemed to absorb light.

“Huang Qiyuan,” Chen Boping’s voice was deep and penetrating, each syllable carrying the weight of scrutiny, “I have read the report you submitted, as well as the comprehensive test results from the provincial experts. Now, you will reiterate the core content in person, especially the parts about ‘Chang Shi’ and ‘Twelve True Lords’. Do not omit any detail.”

His sharp gaze swept over Li Xiao and Ma Lu. "You two are ready to add or clarify at any time."

Huang Qiyuan took a deep breath, the eerie light of the Changshi Talisman seemingly flickering in his eyes: "Reporting to the Director. While investigating the out-of-control incident of the 'Huai'an Road Ghost Domain,' I was caught in a spatial rift. On the verge of death, this talisman... automatically activated, pulling me into an alternate dimension called 'Changshi.' There..." He struggled to find the words to describe it, "The physical laws there are quite different from the real world; it's like an absurd hell. A black sun that never sets hangs in the sky..."

"Countless 'demons and monsters' with twisted forms and bizarre powers roam the Eternal World. They belong to the twelve supreme beings—the 'Twelve True Lords'—according to some chaotic order. When I was on the verge of death, I was attracted and captured by the power of the Heavenly Drum Soul-Capturing True Lord, and became the lowest-ranking being on His path—the 'Listening Slave'."

Huang Qiyuan pointed to the test report, "My body was modified, my hearing was infinitely enhanced, and I can capture and manipulate infrasound, ultrasound and even... a certain 'sound of rules'. The price is sensory overload, susceptibility to being startled, and permanent tinnitus."

"At the same time, I have noticed the presence of psychic energy similar to that of a Ghost Master within me, but experts have confirmed that I do not contain any 'vengeful ghost' entity. My power... comes directly from that path, from that True Lord."

Chen Boping picked up Li Xiao and Ma Lü's report, his gaze sharp as a knife: "Captain Li, Captain Ma. The report shows that you two, along with the core members of your team, had already come into contact with and activated the Worldly Talisman before Huang Qiyuan, becoming 'Tidebringers' and 'Stone Carriers.' Where did the talisman come from?"

Li Xiao stepped forward, his face calm, but a barely perceptible fervor was well concealed deep within his eyes: "Reporting to the Director, the talismans... suddenly appeared on our respective desks. There was no warning, and no one saw who placed them. The first thing we saw was..." He paused.

“A powerful urge, stemming from my very life instincts, seized me, irresistible, and I had to possess it and keep it close at hand. Then… it activated automatically.”

Malyu added, his voice slightly low: "Yes, Director. The process is irresistible. After becoming a 'Stone Carrier,' the vengeful spirit he controlled became unusually 'docile,' the signs of recovery were significantly delayed, and the cost of using his power was greatly reduced, as if he had been 'pacified' or even 'suppressed' by some higher-level power. Instead, the path itself took its place."

He pointed to the report, “The mind becomes as solid as stone…but also sluggish. Physical strength increases, but feels heavy, and there is an instinctive aversion to heights.”

"Special characteristics? Side effects?" Chen Boping's gaze shifted to Huang Qiyuan. "Then, what are the special characteristics of the 'Listening Slave'? Is it merely enhanced hearing?"

Huang Qiyuan was silent for a moment: "...Director, I can 'hear' more. I can hear the noise of emotions, the fluctuations of pretense...and even vaguely 'hear' some...invisible 'rule lines' echoing faintly in the real world. The side effect is that this world...is too noisy, so noisy that it drives people crazy. Moreover, I will...develop a morbid 'craving' for certain supernatural phenomena that contain strong 'rhythmic rules'."

Chen Boping leaned slightly forward, his hands crossed and resting on his chin—a sign of deep thought. The conference room was so quiet you could hear a pin drop; only the faint beeping of the instruments and Huang Qiyuan's amplified heartbeat could be heard.

“Then,” Chen Boping’s voice suddenly turned cold and sharp, getting straight to the heart of the matter, “what’s the price? There’s no such thing as a free lunch. Throughout history, the price of making deals with gods and spirits has always been the bloodiest.”

"These 'True Lords' bestowed power upon you and suppressed the vengeful spirits within you. What... do they want?" His gaze, like a tangible probe, pierced Huang Qiyuan. "Offerings? Sacrifices? Or... souls?"

Chapter 190 Supernatural Revival: Supreme Divinity

Huang Qiyuan felt the golden handcuffs on his wrists grow even colder. His Adam's apple bobbed, and he spoke with difficulty, "...There is a requirement for...offerings. But...it's not mandatory."

"Oh?" Chen Boping's voice rose slightly at the end, carrying an extreme sense of pressure. "What exactly... is it?" He deliberately slowed down his speech, each word like a heavy hammer blow to the hearts of everyone present.

Huang Qiyuan raised his head, his gaze sweeping over Li Xiao and Ma Lu with a complex expression, finally meeting Chen Boping's eyes, which seemed to see through everything, and said, word by word:

"The True Lord... only accepts one kind of offering." He paused, as if confirming this absurd and terrifying fact.

"They...only accept vengeful spirits."

His voice trembled with uncertainty as he added, "The experts' speculations in the report... may be partially correct. Listen... listen to some 'whispers' from the mortal world... It seems that, to a True Lord, vengeful spirits are... a kind of 'delicious'? Or rather, a kind of... special... 'nourishment'?"

"A vengeful ghost...delicious...nutritious..."

It was as if a mental bomb had exploded in Chen Boping's mind! He leaned back in his chair abruptly, his face turning ashen, and his fingers unconsciously tightened, almost denting the hard alloy tabletop!

He was caught in a deep, almost stagnant storm of thought, his brows furrowed into a knot, his eyes unfocused, as if his soul had been detached and plunged into a logical labyrinth of countless terrifying possibilities, frantically deducing the truth.

Eating ghosts? Common knowledge in the supernatural world: Ghosts devour each other, which is common in the process of low-level vengeful ghosts evolving into higher-level ones. In essence, it is about devouring the core rule fragments of the other to complete one's own rules. It is a "quantitative change".

Once you reach Level A (possessing a nearly complete and stable chain of rules for killing) or even Level Catastrophe (capable of distorting reality and causing regional rule collapse), devouring low-level ghosts is almost ineffective. Advancement requires completing their own unique and extremely demanding "rituals," which is a "qualitative change."

What level are the Twelve True Lords? They can create an independent alternate dimension like "The Mortal World," mass-produce beings with stable extraordinary abilities such as "Listening Slaves," "Tide Chasers," and "Stone Carriers," and easily suppress the raging ghosts within a Ghost Master... This level of power is definitely far beyond Grade A! Disaster Level? Or even... higher?

"Delicious"? A mere craving for food? Even a calamity-level vengeful spirit has such base desires?

Absurd! Their "desires" have long since escalated to the distortion and control of rules, concepts, and the very origin of the world!

Non-mandatory offerings? That's the most terrifying part! If, as Huang Qiyuan says, offerings are not mandatory, then what are the True Lords after? Are they doing charity?

Suppressing the resurgence of vengeful spirits with supreme power and bestowing upon them stable and controllable extraordinary strength, merely so that humans... might occasionally, when in a good mood, feed them a few "snack" spirits? This chain of logic is as fragile as a spider's web!

"Director?" Chen Shuping's concerned voice pulled Chen Boping back to reality from his terrifying deduction. He then realized that the entire conference room was deathly silent; everyone was watching him intently, awaiting his decision. Cold sweat had already soaked through his back.

Chen Boping slowly raised his head, the momentary shock in his eyes replaced by a steely resolve and an unfathomable heaviness. He looked around at everyone, his gaze lingering for a moment on Li Xiao's calm and composed face and Ma Lu's slightly dazed face, before finally landing on Huang Qiyuan's eyes, which were bloodshot from excessive listening but unusually clear.

"The meeting is suspended for one hour." Chen Boping's voice regained its composure, yet carried an undeniable coldness. "Everyone, remain where you are. No one may leave without permission, and no one may communicate with the outside world in any form! Huang Qiyuan, stay behind. Shuping, activate the highest level of shielding protocol. Experts, I need you to immediately conduct a deeper analysis of the 'Changshi Talisman'."

His command was firm and decisive, every word carrying the heavy weight of an impending storm.

The storm has only just begun.