She could no longer remember her original name. All she remembered was that she grew up as an ordinary person in a certain city—no, she couldn’t really be called ordinary. She was a great beauty who had been pampered since childhood. Whether at home, at school, or even with the boyfriends she dated in middle school, everyone who came near her was captivated by her looks and delicate voice, and doted on her endlessly. There was nothing she couldn’t have—except the stars in the sky, anything she wanted would be brought to her by any means possible. Gradually, she became accustomed to this pampering, believing it was only natural for others to treat her well...

After her first taste of forbidden fruit in middle school, she began changing boyfriends at an ever-increasing pace—she wanted handsome ones, rich ones, ones who could have fun with her. Day after day, year after year, her memories from this period were filled with vagueness and chaos. After graduating high school, she started mingling with wealthy sugar daddies. She wasn’t a girlfriend, nor a mistress; whenever she wanted money, those men would send it to her, and all she had to do was spend the night with them when they needed her... And in this decadent and chaotic life, she also became addicted to drugs...

These memories were filled with confusion and darkness, and the atmosphere grew ever more gloomy, until the very end—when she died suddenly from a drug overdose. All the men who had once sworn eternal love to her vanished without a trace. The only ones left were her two now-gray-haired parents, who, with tears streaming down their faces, washed her emaciated body and dressed her in the funeral clothes they had sewn by hand... At the very end of her memory, everything suddenly became clear, and the clearest thing of all was the endless flow of tears on her mother’s face...

“Ah!”

Countless chaotic memories suddenly flooded into Henry Clark’s mind. He felt as if he was about to split apart, his head filled with far too many memories that didn’t belong to him. These memories were as illogical as the thoughts of a madman, nothing but utter chaos and noise. Henry Clark screamed in agony, not knowing if it was an illusion, but he felt the black aura was taking over his body, making it impossible for his mind to control his limbs.

Just then, a sudden burst of light erupted from the depths of his consciousness. A bolt of lightning shot out from within him, and in an instant, currents of electricity surged across Henry Clark’s body, crackling loudly. For a moment, he truly looked like a superhero. Within this lightning, the black aura that had invaded his body was shattered as easily as snow under a blazing sun. The countless chaotic memories instantly dissipated. Vaguely, Henry Clark seemed to hear a joyful sob, and then he could no longer sense the presence of that woman’s memories.

The lightning came and went quickly. In just a few seconds, the electricity surging across Henry Clark’s body vanished. Henry Clark, however, felt as if he had just run a marathon—his whole body was weak and powerless, and he could barely lift his feet to move. The sudden change was so astonishing that he could only stand there, gasping for breath, until dozens of glowing particles drifted over to him and, under his gaze, entered his body directly. Only then did Henry Clark finally come back to his senses. These glowing particles merged seamlessly with his body, and as soon as they did, his previous weakness disappeared, and he was once again filled with strength and energy.

“Huff, huff... What on earth just happened?”

Henry Clark shook his head, which still felt heavy and dizzy. He silently recited some Tang and Song poetry in his heart—this had always been his way of calming himself while reading. No matter how chaotic his mood, as long as he recited these poems, his emotions would gradually settle. Sure enough, even though he was already dead, this habit still worked.

In just a few dozen seconds, Henry Clark had completely calmed down. He began to think about what had just happened. From the moment he came into contact with that black aura, the memories of that nine-clawed, human-faced bird began pouring into his consciousness. Even from the chaos of those memories, he could still glean some clues: that nine-clawed, human-faced bird had once been a human, but died from drug use, and for some unknown reason became this monster. It seemed likely that it was a step-by-step transformation from a human soul.

Thinking more carefully, it seemed that all the souls who entered this world had absorbed the black aura—especially those who entered this world with him. As soon as they arrived, their souls began to mutate. Although the mutations weren’t severe—at least they still looked human—this was probably only because their energy wasn’t strong, meaning they hadn’t absorbed too many glowing particles. As for those monsters, perhaps it was the black aura in their human souls that had absorbed a large amount of glowing particles, triggering the mutation...

“Besides that... is it really possible to return to the world of the living from this underworld?” Henry Clark carefully recalled the memories within the black aura, and found the most important piece of information: that the souls in this underworld could actually return to the world of the living?