The great demon sealed for a thousand years is about to awaken, and the fate-controlling gods can only sigh in despair...

This is the prologue to a tragic world—what can save the future of humanity?

Fear, death, and slaughter are only the beginning...

Henry Clark, a life that accidentally escaped the Three Realms...

Bearing the identity of neither human, nor god, nor demon, he wanders through worlds unknown to anyone, all for the sake of seeing the girl he loves most...

Can he cover up all the truths single-handedly?

Can he face the grand night banquet of a hundred demons alone?

No one knows... The story continues.

Prologue

The Unknown World...

With the development of human technology—electricity, hydropower, nuclear energy... nature has already been thoroughly dissected by greedy humans...

No one knows when it started, or who first drew this conclusion: there are no gods in this world, and all faith is nothing but a ridiculous trick used by monarchs to manipulate their subjects.

Gradually, such claims spread like a virus. To this day, talk of gods and ghosts has become synonymous with absurdity. Those who believe in them are only ridiculed by their peers, and worshipping deities is seen as superstition.

Gradually, the word "tale" was added after "god"...

But does something forgotten truly not exist?

Or is it simply that nothing proves its existence?

Or perhaps there is a group of people destroying anything that could serve as proof?

No matter which explanation you believe, at the end of a corridor on the first basement level of the Chinese National Security Bureau, there is an old, timeworn office.

Above the office doorframe, a dust-covered bronze plaque reads "Paranormal Investigation Division"...

This is their story—a group of people who destroy evidence, and who, like the things they erase, have become forgotten existences...

Chapter One

Bandits? Or Police?

April 1, 2005. Wuhan. Overcast.

The ridiculous April Fool's Day is a day of suffering for fools, because only today, when they are played with, can they only laugh it off. For swindlers, today is also a day when they can scam openly and without shame. Whether or not anyone catches them, at least they can comfort themselves by saying, "Today's lies are just a game..."

So, students tell their teachers their homework books are lost, when in fact they never did the homework...

Children tell their parents that the money at home was stolen by a thief, when in fact they just topped up their "Legend" game card...

Husbands tell their wives they have to work late, when in fact they're taking Viagra and waiting for their mistress to finish her shower...

The funny thing is, these people forget that facts are facts. When you see them with your own eyes, the truth is often cruel enough to be terrifying...

In the ordinary suburbs of this ordinary city, there is a group of people who cannot so easily deceive themselves that everything is just an illusion...

Here is a patch of emerald grass. The ankle-deep grass shows that this is a wasteland. Usually, at most, this place is only useful for poor lovers to meet, otherwise, even if ten thousand people passed by, not one would stop to rest.

But today, it is unusually lively. So lively that even though the police have cordoned off an area of dozens of square meters, the reporters outside the police line are still crowding in like flies, their camera flashes going off as if they were photographing some celebrity's nudes.

And in a way, they are nudes—just that the poses of the "models" are ones no celebrity could ever make...

On this small patch of grass, thirteen naked corpses lay flat on the ground, the bright red blood turning the green grass crimson. Although the busy coroners were checking the bodies with masks on, no one could know what expression the dead had at the moment of death. After all, every corpse's head had disappeared, leaving only the pale cervical vertebrae exposed. Some rookie officers were vomiting in disgust...

At that moment, the crowd outside was forcibly parted. A middle-aged man, holding a handkerchief over his mouth and nose, easily stepped over the police line. The officers maintaining order didn't even bother to check his credentials—just a glance at the shiny special badge on his chest was enough to know he was a big shot from the National Security Bureau. Even the director would have to greet him with a smile...

Perhaps sensing the importance of this man, the reporters who had taken enough photos of the corpses quickly turned their cameras on him, snapping away nonstop. Whether living or dead, in the eyes of these reporters, all they see is "news."

He walked straight to one of the corpses, squatted down slowly, his eyes showing he was deep in thought.

That head of short, graying hair—was it caused by this "bad habit" of his?

"Male, twenty to twenty-five years old, strong build, Asian, had sex before death, died very suddenly. No resistance, no struggle, didn't even know he was going to die. Looks like he died quite happily, huh?" Without gloves, he casually ran his hand over the corpse and immediately gave a detailed report. Even the elderly coroner beside him nodded repeatedly in admiration.