“So I’m a flame wielder—so what’s the problem with that?”

  As I asked, I recalled the moment I first told Zhu Shi about my ability. She had been genuinely surprised that I’d defeated the fallen demon hunter using fire.

  I also remembered how, during our confrontation, the instant the fallen demon hunter realized I was a flame user, his wariness dropped several notches.

  Earlier he had been extremely cautious, employing hit-and-run tactics against an opponent whose powers were unknown. But afterward, he boldly closed the distance. It wasn’t just that the unknown had become known—it seemed he genuinely believed fire manipulation wasn’t anything particularly impressive.

  Did Zhu Shi feel the same way? But I had already described the entire fight to her in detail. If she considered the fallen demon hunter a powerhouse, then I—who had defeated him relatively easily—shouldn’t be treated as weak, right?

  “The common issue with flame wielders is a severe lack of defense and mobility,” Investigator Kong answered plainly. “People like you who manipulate natural elements—especially fire—have overwhelming destructive power. If an opponent takes your attack head-on, they’re likely to be reduced to ashes on the spot. Even if they have strong defenses, it usually just means you need a few more hits—assuming, of course, they stand still like a training dummy and let you pound them.

  “But the flip side is that your margin for error is far smaller than your opponent’s. Once you step onto the path of a demon hunter, you’ll face countless dangerous anomalies. Some of those anomalies can afford to make mistake after mistake right in front of you, but for you, a single mistake could mean total ruin.

  “To walk the demon hunter path for the long haul, it’s not about how much success you can achieve—it’s about how much failure you can endure.”

  “I see… so it’s about tolerance for error.” Now I completely understood. “In other words, as long as I improve my defense and mobility, that solves it, right?”

  “That’s the theory, but it’s extremely difficult in practice. Anomalies threaten you in countless ways—not just physical force, but also mental, curse-based, even spatial, conceptual, or completely incomprehensible powers. That’s why I’ve never envied demon hunters. The world they face is simply too terrifying.” Investigator Kong sighed. “You’ve already experienced it yourself, haven’t you? That true helplessness, the despair of being unable to break free no matter what…

  “In her report, Zhu Shi mentioned that the space beneath the fifteenth-floor cave room was an absolutely isolated pocket dimension. Not only were electronic signals cut off—any supernatural connection was severed as well. You seemed to share some kind of mental link with the flames you summoned. That must have been the conclusion you reached after exploring down there, right?”

  “That’s correct.” I recalled the suffocating isolation beneath the cave and spoke from experience. “No matter how powerful your strength is, when faced with unpredictable anomalies, there are moments when nothing you do can turn the tide… So is that why Zhu Shi doesn’t want me to become a Luo Shan demon hunter?”

  Thinking about it that way, it made sense that Zhu Shi hadn’t laid out this argument directly to me—she probably didn’t want to hurt my pride.

  “That’s only part of it,” Investigator Kong said after a moment’s thought. “Zhu Shi also has a deep aversion to killing and bloodshed. That said, when the situation demands it, she will still act… In short, demon hunters don’t only fight monsters and anomalies—there are also humans who misuse supernatural powers for evil. She probably doesn’t want you to have to kill.”

  “Even though I already fought the fallen demon hunter?” I countered.

  “That’s different. First, he didn’t die by your hand. Second, he wasn’t in human form when you defeated him.” His tone suddenly turned grave. “With your ability, killing a human would be child’s play. There’s a saying—whether it’s true or not—that in modern battlefields, people overcome the psychological barrier to killing each other far more easily than in ancient times. Do you know what that claim is based on?”

  I had never been to a battlefield, but I immediately grasped his implication. “Because of the difference in weapons?”

  “Exactly. In ancient times, people killed with blades and spears. Even though there were ranged weapons, combat was mostly face-to-face—stabbing living flesh, hearing screams up close, watching faces contort in agony. It was brutal. In the modern era, people use firearms: pull the trigger and the life is gone.

  Love what you're reading? Discover and support the author on the platform they originally published on.

  “Even easier than soldiers with guns are high-ranking officials. They can sit in an office, give a single order, and cause deaths thousands of miles away—with almost no psychological burden at all. Many powerful people have ruined countless lives not because they were born cold-blooded monsters, but because it felt too easy—like clicking a mouse button in a strategy game.

  “And you? As a superhuman, you possess a ‘power’ far more terrifying than any high official. You don’t need to lift a finger or give an order to anyone else. A mere thought is enough to take countless lives… Once you cross that line and start killing, can you really go back?”

  His words forced me into serious introspection.

  This was a cross-examination of my own soul.

  I knew full well I had the power to end lives with a thought, and in the past I had often imagined what killing would feel like. Now I was mentally simulating the act of actually taking a life, testing my resolve over and over.

  But whether a person raised in a peaceful society can truly pull the trigger when the moment arrives is impossible to know until it happens. And whether killing so effortlessly would desensitize someone to the value of life—reducing it to something as weightless as dust—is equally unknowable without real experience.

  Lost in thought, I noticed Investigator Kong wasn’t waiting for my reply. He had fallen silent, staring into the distance, deeply absorbed in his own reflections.

  Suddenly, a spark of insight flashed through my mind. His question didn’t apply only to me—it applied to demon hunters as a whole. Didn’t they also possess “a power far more terrifying than that of any high official”?

  Not every one of them could incinerate humans with a glance like I could, but surely many had mental manipulation, curses, and other such abilities. Throughout history, whenever grassroots heroes rose to prominence, they would claim divine omens had favored them. Even the slightest coincidence in their achievements would be glorified as heavenly mandate, as proof that some unimaginable being had blessed them—winning the devotion of countless superstitious followers.

  If mere fabrication could achieve that effect, how much more powerful would real supernatural authority be in the hands of demon hunters?

  If an organization like Luo Shan exists, why has history still been dominated by ordinary people? Shouldn’t the current political system be ruled by the “extraordinary” instead? Not because superhumans would necessarily govern better, but because in the struggle for power, it’s hard to imagine ordinary people winning against them.

  Yet so far, I’ve never heard of any demon hunter causing massive upheaval in society. That means some powerful restraining force is holding them back.

  Is that force Luo Shan itself? Then how does Luo Shan ensure its own demon hunters don’t become the source of chaos?

  According to Zhu Shi, Luo Shan is currently in a deeply unsettling state of turmoil…

  I don’t know if I was overthinking due to the context of our conversation, but I suddenly felt the faint scent of an approaching storm.

  As an outsider, I had no right to pry into Luo Shan’s internal affairs. Even when I previously asked why Luo Shan concealed anomaly information from the general public, Zhu Shi had been evasive.

  In the end, I’d have to become a demon hunter first if I wanted to unlock more clues.

  Investigator Kong finally pulled his gaze back from the horizon and gave a small smile, lightening his tone to ease the heavy atmosphere. “After saying all that, I still hope you’ll join Luo Shan.”

  I immediately perked up. “Why?”

  “I’m a probe for Luo Shan—scouting promising demon hunter candidates from the civilian population is part of my job, but that’s secondary. More importantly, I hope Zhu Shi can be the one to guide you, and that you’ll stand by her side to support her.” His expression softened. “She carries the mission of a demon hunter, yet she’s far less strong than she thinks. She’s afraid of her own blood being spilled and even more afraid of spilling others’, even when it’s justified… She’s too naive, too fragile. If you could be the one to shore up her spirit, that would be ideal.”

  “She’s my friend’s little sister. If she’s ever in danger, I’ll do everything I can to protect her,” I replied earnestly.

  “That’s good to hear.” He nodded with visible relief. “I’ll be transferred to another region soon. Knowing you’ll look after her puts my mind at ease.”

  By now our conversation had carried us far from the residential complex, onto the streets near Xianshui University. It was still rush hour; cars clogged the roads, pedestrians and students streamed along the sidewalks, and breakfast carts at the corner sold hand-held pancakes and burgers.

  Our discussion was laced with secrets unknown to ordinary society, yet Investigator Kong showed no concern about being overheard. Seeing that, I stopped holding back either. Obviously, even if passersby caught snippets, they wouldn’t take it seriously. Demon hunters? Superpowers? To the uninitiated, it all sounded like fantasy fiction.

  I walked through this familiar, everyday scene filled with the air of normal life, yet I gradually felt a growing sense of distance from everything “normal.”

  It was a loneliness completely different from the isolation I had felt beneath the cave.

  “Investigator Kong, can I ask you one question?”

  “As long as it’s not something I’m forbidden to answer.”

  “It’s about the time you impersonated a police officer.”

  “Ahem…” Embarrassment returned to his face. “Haven’t we already closed that topic?”

  “No, I’m not trying to tease you… I want to ask about the girl you accused of being a serial killer.” I felt a moment of speechlessness, then continued. “I already asked Zhu Shi, but she said it was your mission and she couldn’t disclose more, so now I’m asking you.

  “Why is Luo Shan searching for that girl? Who exactly is she?”