Chapter 1 – Urban Legend and Accident

Wei An held a glass of pink iced drink, smiling as he walked through the bustling crowd.

He was currently in Tongyun City, Taoyuan Province—a vast and scenic affluent district.

As one of the Federation’s most remote provinces, Taoyuan was a place with a slow pace of life and little prominence. Wei An had moved here three years ago. No one knew what he had done before, only that he was wealthy, handsome, elegant in demeanor, and a gentle, friendly, and generous person. Everyone liked him.

It was an early spring afternoon, the air still carrying a chill. The garden was filled with blooming flowers, their colors refined and wild.

Not far away, the sound of flowing water could be heard. The villa bordered the Suoyun River, offering a view of the expansive and beautiful water surface.

At the moment, the aroma of grilled meat wafted through the garden as people chatted lightly, laughter occasionally rising.

Wei An also wore a pleasant smile as he moved through the crowd. This party was his treat, and he had already fully integrated into the local community.

Most of the partygoers were discussing recent headlines.

“It’s terrifying. I never knew a building explosion could be like that—dust blotting out the sky, everything pitch-black below, nothing visible,” one guest said. “Have you seen the new footage from the security cameras?”

“I have. From below, it looked like hell…” another replied.

Wei An passed through the crowd, listening to their casual chatter, still wearing a satisfied smile.

They were talking about how, five days ago, the Federal Military had blown up the headquarters building of a local rebel faction during their fifth-anniversary celebration.

Now, news platforms across Taoyuan were flooded with related reports—how the Federal Military’s full-scale offensive had secured victory, how they were pursuing the enemy, the aftermath of reclaiming the city, and so on.

Wei An sipped his iced drink, occasionally joining a conversation.

Everyone at the party looked cheerful, dressed impeccably, discussing familiar topics—a typical scene of affluent social gatherings that gave him deep satisfaction.

The force the guests were discussing originated from Yingtian City in northern Taoyuan, a dark and brutal faction.

As a major city in the north, Yingtian was located near the Rising Mountains, surrounded by vast mining zones. Life there was relatively prosperous, making it an otherwise unremarkable city.

But about seven years ago, during mining operations, the ruins of an ancient civilization were unearthed, turning the place into a terrifying nightmare.

A group of people gathered around this discovery, leveraging ancient resources to form an extremely dangerous faction.

These people were both insane and highly cohesive, wielding bizarre weapons that left the Taoyuan provincial government powerless.

Meanwhile, the Federation had been embroiled in internal turmoil in recent years, with frequent power struggles at the top. Combined with Taoyuan’s remote location and lack of strategic importance, no military force had been dispatched to quell the rebellion immediately.

The Yingtian faction had tyrannized the north for years, turning their territory into a city of hell, spawning countless horror stories.

Until three months ago, when the Federation’s upper echelons suddenly sent a military force.

And not just any force—this one was highly skilled, equipped with top-tier resources and led by competent officers. They quickly reclaimed large swaths of lost territory, occupied Yingtian’s headquarters city, and were now in the final cleanup phase.

Taoyuan’s media was overjoyed, daily extolling the Federal Military’s valor. Locals couldn’t stop talking about it either, and Wei An had picked up many details along the way.

From Wei An’s personal experience, at this stage of the conflict, this expeditionary force would likely wrap up operations within a month and leave this provincial backwater.

He was still quite safe.

But since the topic was Yingtian, some dark undercurrents inevitably surfaced in the conversation.

Wei An overheard a guest say, “Did you hear? When they were clearing the ruins of Yingtian’s headquarters, they found something strange.”

“What?” someone asked with interest.

“A friend of mine is in the Federal Military’s Logistics Department, handling the cleanup. He said…” the first speaker continued, “the things they dug up weren’t right.”

“What do you mean?”

“You know how, after an explosion like that, people should be reduced to minced meat, splattered everywhere, the soil in the building’s core turned to glass? They have been excavating those ruins as if digging into the bowels of hell itself, wrecking them into oblivion in the process. But the deeper they went, the more they felt something was off…”

As they spoke, a few more people gathered around, all looking intrigued.

The gossipmonger went on, “They found walls near the floor growing what looked like scales, and objects like guns and doorknobs twisted into shapes that looked like living organisms…”

“Oh my god!”

“I didn’t believe it at first, but now rumors are spreading, even photos. The weirdest part is, after four days of digging, not a single corpse, drop of blood, or severed limb was found in the ruins. It’s like everyone just vanished.”

“How is that possible?!”

“He said they were terrified, feeling like the building had swallowed those people whole. Who knows if the ruins are even safe to excavate now? You all know how sinister Yingtian’s land is… So they pulled some strings to check the Intelligence Directorate’s life-monitoring records. They thought maybe the building had been empty all along, part of some Yingtian military scheme. But when they checked, they found that up until five minutes before the explosion, the building was fully occupied—clear as day…”

He lowered his voice.

“But then, one by one, the signals started disappearing. From the first to the entire building emptying out, it took less than three minutes. He said it started from an inconspicuous corner, like something entered there, and then everyone began vanishing…”

Silence fell over the group.

This should have been a lively moment for opinions, but no one spoke. The crowd was struck mute.

After a long pause, someone said, “Was it… the ‘Ministry of Science’?”

No one answered.

Few dared to mention that department directly, as if merely uttering its name might summon some unseen force.

Wei An picked up another drink, appearing completely uninterested in the topic.

One of the guests spotted him and smiled, raising his glass.

“Great party,” he said.

Wei An returned the smile and raised his drink in response.

Others noticed him too, greeting him warmly.

“We were just talking about the strange happenings in Yingtian City lately—really bizarre,” one said. “What do you think, Wei An?”

Wei An smiled.

“I think the ‘Rosefish’ vintage from 317 is quite good—rich fruity notes with a subtle smoky finish,” he said.

He was referring to a batch of wine acquired last month from a prestigious local winery.

“Oh, from the Snowfield Estate?” a guest chimed in. “That one has an incredibly rich fruitiness, with just the right sweetness.”

“Exactly. The orchard’s environment is uniquely perfect.”

“Last year, I got a batch of their ‘Sunshine Tea’…”

The group’s topic quickly shifted from what had happened before Yingtian’s headquarters explosion to wine.

The partygoers were all well-versed in wine—a basic requirement of the upper class and an important avenue for socializing and one-upmanship.

They chatted for a while before Wei An had some bottles brought out for tasting. His cellar was stocked with exorbitantly priced wines, which he opened as casually as soda, a trait everyone admired.

A few in the crowd looked at Wei An dismissively, considering him a dull greenhouse flower totally ignorant of the world’s darkness and cruelty.

Wei An completed his rounds of socializing and stepped into the villa, opening his terminal.

News platforms were flooded with Federal Military coverage. With a simple channel flip, one could witness the spectacular explosion of Yingtian’s headquarters from various angles.

The incident had occurred during their fifth-anniversary celebration in the evening, with cameras everywhere. If one wished, they could watch the explosion from multiple perspectives.

Wei An pulled up the footage and began searching.

The celebration had been grand, held at dusk. The plaza was packed, laser fireworks blooming across the sky like radiant flowers.

The weather was still cold, ice crystals clinging to trees. The crowd, bundled in thick clothing, appeared pale under the dim light, their expressions unreadable. In one corner of the frame, black-uniformed soldiers stood stern and vigilant, while fireworks cast a festive glow over everything.

Wei An played the footage, eyes fixed on the screen. After a moment, he suddenly paused it, scrutinizing a detail.

He rewound frame by frame.

He found it.

The figure was in the lower left corner, walking against the crowd.

Tall, wearing a somewhat worn overcoat, thin and unremarkable. His hair was too long, falling past his shoulders in an unkempt, neglected manner—like a down-and-out resident no one cared about.

In the twilight, the sky tinted the air blue. Fireworks bloomed like scenes from a fairy tale.

He turned his back to this spectacle, never once looking up. He walked a path darker than anyone else’s.

Then Yingtian’s headquarters exploded behind him.

Flames roared toward the sky, staining the overcast horizon crimson. The plaza fell into chaos—screams, bewildered faces, people unsure what had happened…

The figure vanished into a corner of the plaza.

Wei An stared at the screen.

The news footage wasn’t particularly clear. For instance, Wei An knew that in person, one could see this man’s eyes were a dull silver.

No human had irises like that—the color of weathered, tarnished metal, dim and heavy.

A product of technology and nature, hidden behind slightly disheveled black hair. When those eyes occasionally met yours, they felt distant, alien—like the gaze of a beast in dark woods.

This was Gui Ling, one of the Ministry of Science’s most terrifying figures.

His capabilities defied description, bordering on supernatural, and to this day, no one could fully explain them.

Wei An watched the screen quietly a while longer.

After the explosion, the frame was filled with panicked crowds, screams, and gunfire—a chaotic, ominous scene. The figure was long gone.

After a few seconds, he straightened up and closed the feed.

He thought he might as well return outside to entertain guests and grab some food.

There was undoubtedly some conspiracy behind this. Gui Ling… was not someone who should appear in a place like this. His level was far too high.

But whatever these people were planning, it had nothing to do with him.

Wei An returned to the garden.

The atmosphere remained lively—people in elegant attire, conversing politely, enjoying themselves. The tableware was exquisite, the food aromatic, everything refined and cultured.

A little girl ran over, holding a plate of marinated chicken wings, calling out, “Brother Wei An, grill these for me!”

“Shouldn’t you call me uncle?” Wei An teased.

“You seem more like a brother,” the girl replied, grinning brightly.

“Who taught you to sweet-talk like that?”

“Mom did.”

“How honest.”

Wei An took the wings and headed to a nearby grill, the girl happily trailing behind.

He expertly placed the wings on the grill and began cooking.

The girl sat on a chair, chin propped on her hands as she waited.

“Are you going to the officer’s ball at Silver Bay the day after tomorrow?” she asked.

Silver Bay was a Federal Military outpost—not strategically significant but scenic, perfect for vacations.

“No,” Wei An replied.

“Mom says all the important people in Taoyuan are going,” the girl said. “The banquet’s super fancy! They did a huge, classy renovation—real gemstones on the chandeliers and murals—”

Her face was alight with longing, as if describing a legendary dream event.

“Really?”

“Yeah! The one leading the campaign against Yingtian is the son of a major family from the Capital Sector. He must’ve needed military achievements badly to come all the way here. Everyone with him is top-tier too,” she said. “You’re really not going? Mom says anyone with ambition should check it out.”

“I’m not that ambitious. I have a vineyard tour booked that day,” Wei An said.

“What’s so great about vineyards?!”

“They’re nice.”

The grill was hot, so Wei An took off his jacket, revealing a cotton plaid shirt underneath, sleeves rolled to his elbows. In the twilight, he looked every bit the gentle homemaker.

The chicken wings soon glistened with oil, turning a tempting golden brown as Wei An flipped them with practiced ease.

He was the type who could do a bit of everything, handling tasks like this as deftly as any chef.

As evening deepened, the sky blazed with sunset hues. Garden lights flickered on, equally radiant—a testament to wealth and effort spent crafting civilized beauty and tranquility.

His world, amidst this bustle, was perfectly still.

Then it happened.

Wei An placed the grilled wings on a plate and handed it to the girl when he suddenly paused, turning eastward.

No one else noticed yet, but Wei An sensed it.

The sky’s color was off. The dark blue horizon had taken on a faint glow—so subtle it seemed like powdered clouds under fantastical lighting, breathtakingly beautiful.

Wei An recognized this light. It was battlefield light.

The party continued undisturbed—breeze rustling, meat sizzling, business discussions, laughter, someone asking, “Any more bacon wraps?”

A distant rumble came from the east, like approaching storm clouds.

An immense fire had broken out. Up close, it would be a ravenous inferno devouring heaven and earth.

Wei An grabbed another drink. The thunder was still far; the gathering remained a pocket of paradise.

Soon, however, people began checking their phones, expressions tensing.

At the bar, a guest chatting with a drink in hand answered his ringing phone, face paling. A young couple holding hands nearby was approached by someone speaking urgently.

Calls were made; friends sought out.

Wei An didn’t check the news, but he knew—the incident was at Silver Bay outpost.

He stood under the sunset glow, watching the party unravel.

His expression remained neutral as he slowly sipped his drink.