I am Kong Da, a probe for Luo Shan.

  In the field, people usually just call me “Investigator Kong.”

  Looking down at Z’s body sprawled before me, I let my blade-shaped arms revert to normal.

  “I already warned you, Z,” I said, pulling out a handkerchief to casually wipe my hands before tossing the soiled cloth onto his corpse. “The fatal weakness of flame wielders is their lack of error tolerance. Get caught off guard even once—just once—and it’s game over.”

  Yes. I am the real fallen demon hunter.

  At this moment, Z was unquestionably dead. His head had been severed and lay on the ground, both eyes destroyed by the blade, the slash cutting deep enough to pulverize his brain tissue completely.

  There were still traces of blood and brain matter clinging to my palm that I couldn’t quite wipe clean. After killing so many people over the years, I no longer felt any poetic sorrow over taking a life, but the sticky, nauseating sensation still disgusted me.

  This is one of the downsides of body-enhancement types. Unlike those who kill with firearms, authority, or invisible means, body-enhanced demon hunters have to get their hands dirty—literally. Sometimes we even have to listen to the victim’s screams up close, watch their face twist in agony.

  If I had Z’s kind of flame ability, killing would probably feel cleaner, more detached. Of course, if someone offered to trade that single-target-destructive power for my current set, I wouldn’t hesitate to refuse.

  The scene right now was the perfect proof. Z’s ability was undeniably powerful—my summoned clones could be incinerated with just a glance. Even if I had faced him myself, the outcome wouldn’t have been much better. But so what?

  Killing an opponent in one hit has never been something to brag about. It’s simply expected.

  On ancient cold-weapon battlefields, piercing a vital point with a blade meant death. On modern hot-weapon battlefields, firing first meant victory. Even in street brawls, a lucky elbow can kill someone by accident. In human-versus-human combat, overwhelming attack power is commonplace. Thinking that “one-shotting someone” is impressive is just video-game logic.

  What truly matters is striking first. Even if you’re holding a dagger and your enemy has a cannon, the one who lands the hit wins. A combat amateur like Z probably couldn’t understand that.

  So what if he could kill with a look? Just attack from behind. Any ordinary person with intent could kill him. In the world of anomalies, far more broken abilities than that exist in droves. His was actually one of the easier ones to counter once you knew the trick.

  …That said, when he unleashed that omnidirectional flame burst earlier to wipe out those clones—and nearly caught me in it too—I almost panicked and revealed myself on the spot. I thought I’d been exposed, or that he’d gotten too caught up in the fight and forgotten I was supposedly his “ally.” Turns out his flames really could distinguish friend from foe… and he simply forgot to warn me beforehand. What a complete lack of team awareness.

  I’ve analyzed his personality in passing. In my eyes, he’s a textbook case: someone who gains immense power and immediately starts thinking he’s above everyone else.

  A lot of people might assume that type would go wild in society the moment they got strong. Not necessarily. From years of observation, at least half of them just quietly believe they’re superior to those around them while still holding a healthy fear of powerful institutions and collectives.

  They tend to view themselves as transcendent compared to ordinary people and develop a certain detachment toward human life. That’s perfectly normal. Give anyone the ability to kill with a glance, let them live for years with the constant awareness that they can end lives at zero cost, and their mindset is bound to warp. There’s an old saying: when all you have is a hammer, everything starts looking like a nail. “When you carry a sharp blade, murderous thoughts arise naturally” isn’t just poetry.

  He probably rehearsed killing scenarios in his head all the time—maybe even wanted to try it once, not out of any real motive, but simply because he could. There was a lawless glint buried in his eyes. He might have even fantasized about how to counter police or military if things ever escalated. On the surface he seemed modest and cautious, but deep down he was supremely confident in his power. He wouldn’t start trouble on purpose, yet he fundamentally believed that if a fight really broke out, he would win.

  As long as no conflict forced his hand, he’d keep his ability hidden. But if hiding became impossible, he’d reveal himself without a shred of hesitation. In Zhu Shi’s report, she mentioned witnessing him at a combat scene and speaking with him—he made no attempt to conceal what he’d done. That’s because, deep inside, he harbored a desire to show the world how special he was.

  Ordinary life must have felt unbearably confining to him. That’s why he longed to enter the extraordinary world—like a fish stranded on land yearning to return to water. He probably believed that was where he truly belonged.

  It was an arrogant, ignorant wish.

  —

  My first contact with the world of anomalies and demon hunters came twenty years ago.

  Back then I was still young and completely obsessed with all the supposedly “serious” accounts of the impossible I found in obscure books: ghost ships where every crew member vanished without trace, the alleged sounds of hell rising from the world’s deepest drill holes, ghost walls, spirit photography, doppelgangers—I’d been fascinated by anything supernatural since I could remember, far more than anyone around me.

  Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

  These phenomena that defied common sense completely transcended my everyday experience. They terrified me, yet at the same time filled me with longing. I imagined what I would do if I really encountered them—whether I could be as clever and brave as the characters in the stories, maybe even gain some power beyond reality after solving the mystery.

  I was equally drawn to occult and spiritual practices: meditation, channeling, exorcism, divination… For a while I secretly practiced them behind my family’s and friends’ backs, treating them with complete sincerity, as though I truly believed.

  If they had known what I was doing, they probably would have thought I really did believe. But I didn’t—not fully. I just desperately wanted to believe. Those practices were my escape from the monotony of studying and working, letting my mind slip into a magical realm of imagination. Over time, the obsession grew until it bordered on fanaticism.

  But obsession always leaves traces. Eventually my family and friends noticed something off. They started giving me strange looks, treating me like an eccentric oddball, whispering behind my back.

  Truthfully, I never thought of myself as particularly special. If I laid bare my inner thoughts, I’m sure most people—at least a great many—would feel some echo of recognition. Who hasn’t, at some point in their youth, dreamed of escaping the gravity of reality, stepping into an impossible world filled with thrilling encounters and adventures? Even those who mock fantasy and pride themselves on being “realistic” secretly wish, deep down, that the fantastical were real. I was simply more honest about my desires and let the dream last longer than most.

  After graduating from university, I still didn’t give up those interests. I even found a few like-minded friends. Sometimes outside criticism doesn’t make you abandon a passion—it makes you cling to it harder and bonds you more tightly with others who share it. We began using our free time and holidays to chase down urban legends and supernatural leads, swapping stories of clues we found and failures we endured.

  Then one day, I finally encountered the supernatural event I had always dreamed of.

  In a supposedly haunted dead-end alley that no one ever visited, a few of us from an offline meetup group strolled in with a casual “let’s just take a look” attitude. We never imagined that this unremarkable exploration—one that would barely register among all our past failures—would hide a genuine evil spirit.

  At first we reached the end of the alley and found nothing. The change happened on the way back. We were walking and chatting, laughing—until we slowly realized that no matter how far we walked, the entrance we had come through never reappeared. By the time we understood something was terribly wrong, it was already too late.

  We panicked, searching desperately for a way out, but one by one my companions vanished. The sounds of the bustling city outside gradually faded until they disappeared entirely. The neon lights and stars overhead winked out without notice. Step by step, the dead-end alley transformed into a demonic realm cut off from civilization.

  When I finally snapped out of my dark imaginings, everyone else was gone. I was the only one left, abandoned in that twisted, impossible alley.

  It really was haunted.

  In sheer terror I ran, sprinting toward where the exit should have been.

  But no matter how long I ran, I seemed to stay in place. What should have been a straight line had somehow become a M?bius loop; I was just an ant running futilely across its surface.

  Even the high walls on either side began to warp in incomprehensible ways. I tried climbing them to escape. Never mind that I had almost no urban climbing experience—when I finally pushed myself to a decent height after exhausting every ounce of strength, the wall simply grew taller right before my eyes.

  I dropped back to the ground and tried walking again, but I no longer held any real hope.

  Time passed minute by minute, grain by grain. Hours—maybe days—dragged on. The alley remained locked in perpetual, terrifying night. Thirst and hunger slowly crept in.

  Eventually, after who knows how long—a day? Two?—the burning hunger and thirst crossed the line of endurance.

  I couldn’t tell whether my stamina or my will gave out first. I simply couldn’t walk anymore. Prolonged anxiety and terror had numbed my mind until it felt like a slab of dead meat, completely devoid of elasticity.

  And after that endless numbness came collapse. In the never-ending dead-end alley, I broke down and sobbed in utter despair.

  I regretted everything.

  I hated the person I had been up to that point.

  Why had I ever stepped into this insane place?

  Why had I been so arrogant, chasing after anomalies and the impossible?

  The ordinary life I used to find so boring—the safe, uneventful, predictable routine—now looked impossibly warm and radiant.

  I just wanted to go back. Back to my home, to my soft, comfortable bed. I wanted to sleep and forget everything that had happened here. After that, I would live properly, work properly, and never think about unrealistic nonsense again.

  So please… let me go… I beg you, let me go back…

  I knelt and kowtowed toward the unseen presence—whether ghost or nothing at all—sobbing uncontrollably.

  But the darkness gave no reply. Despair swallowed my soul whole. Maybe I would die here, stripped of all dignity, like some starved animal—worthless, forgotten.

  By some miracle, I didn’t die there after all.

  Exhaustion and hunger finally dragged me into unconsciousness. When I came to, someone had woken me.

  While I was out, a new visitor had entered the alley and personally destroyed the evil spirit that ruled it. That was how I was saved, almost by accident.

  After rescuing me, the stranger asked about my experience. Exhausted though I was, I forced myself to recount everything in detail.

  When I finally finished, I couldn’t help asking, “…Who are you, exactly?”

  “I am Impermanence,” he answered.

  “Impermanence… is that your name?”

  “No. It’s my title. In Luo Shan, those of us who handle anomalies on the front lines are called ‘Impermanence.’” His tone was surprisingly friendly.

  Luo Shan. Demon hunters. Impermanence… My mind was still trapped in the nightmare; the words barely registered.

  Suddenly I remembered the friends who had entered the alley with me. I asked whether he had seen them.

  “I didn’t see anyone else. They were probably all devoured,” he said. “You’re the only survivor. You must have been last in the spirit’s order of consumption—that’s the only reason you’re still alive.”

  “Only… me…” Terror surged up like bile, making me tremble. “How… how did you kill that thing?”

  “How? I just found it and cut it down with one sword,” he replied. “This particular evil spirit wasn’t especially powerful. Its specialty was invading minds, amplifying fear, and weaving illusions. Effective against ordinary people, sure—but against demon hunters? Its power was nowhere near enough. We’re basically immune. And honestly, even ordinary people can resist it if they keep their minds steady.

  “Take you, for example. If you hadn’t let fear control you in that alley, you wouldn’t have been trapped for so long. Or if you could have faced death calmly and accepted it as a possible outcome, that level of illusion wouldn’t have worked on you either.

  “That said… staying calm in a hopeless situation or accepting death with equanimity are things even many demon hunters struggle with. Expecting an ordinary person to manage it would be unreasonable…”

  Hearing that, I lowered my head in silence.

  Yes… it wasn’t my fault.

  Anyone—anyone at all—placed in that situation, isolated from the world and forced to face death alone, would eventually break. Humans are social creatures. Absolute solitude and the certainty of death are unbearable.

  Those who live apart from society are either gods or beasts.

  Strip away the veneer of civilization, and every human becomes a beast ruled by primal fear. I was just one more beast among them.

  Put anyone else in my place, and they would have ended up exactly the same.