Chapter 1

Today marked the second day since Xi Le had crossed over into this world. Over these two days, he had questioned countless times how exactly he had ended up here.

Xi Le was originally a doctor, a corporate slave for many years, honing a body capable of enduring grueling work shifts. Yet without any warning, he had inexplicably woken up in this unfamiliar place after a single night’s sleep.

This world wasn’t drastically different from his original one, except for the pervasive, eerie Lovecraftian undertones. For instance, at this very moment, the once bright and clear moon in the sky had been replaced by the Crimson Moon, as if heralding all the misfortunes in the world.

Under the glow of the Crimson Moon, occultism thrived. Many of his colleagues were enthusiasts of the occult, their greatest passion being the study of mysticism. They constantly tossed around terms like “loss of control” and “monsters,” even trying to drag Xi Le into their world of the arcane.

Just thinking about such spine-chilling things made Xi Le break out in goosebumps all over.

The original owner of this body was also a doctor, which aligned with his former profession, so he didn’t have to worry about work.

For these two days, Xi Le had avoided going to work, afraid that his colleagues would immediately notice the change beneath the surface.

Xi Le looked up at the sky. Tonight, the moonlight was unusually full. Beneath the Crimson Moon, everything was desolate, and in the darkness untouched by its red glow, unspeakable things emitted strange noises.

No wonder occultism flourished in this world. After all, in the realm of the arcane, the Crimson Moon was synonymous with heresy.

The moon had always been associated with the bizarre—its elusive and cold nature deeply intertwined with religion. Now, dyed crimson, its madness-inducing properties had only intensified.

Whenever the blood-red moon descended, heresy ran rampant. But in this world, the Crimson Moon hung in the sky every single night. Anyone who saw it would inevitably descend into madness.

Xi Le stared at the blood moon, then couldn’t help but lower his head and hurry back home.

Once inside, he poured himself a glass of water and wiped the sweat from his forehead with a tissue.

But strangely, after drinking the water, Xi Le suddenly noticed tiny, peculiar miniature cities appearing before him.

These cities varied in size, each with completely distinct styles.

Small yellow and blue figures, riding electric scooters, weaved through the buildings, delivering something.

Though these figures were smaller than ants, Xi Le could clearly see their expressions and movements. If he leaned in, he could even hear their voices.

They were so fragile, so vulnerable—as if with a single flick of his finger, Xi Le could crush them all.

He blinked, wondering if he had accidentally drunk alcohol instead of water.

Rubbing his eyes, he found that not only had the tiny cities not disappeared, but more had appeared.

Xi Le felt his long-held materialist beliefs being shaken. He went to the fridge to grab a cold cola.

Opening the refrigerator, he instead discovered a primitive village inside, conducting some bizarre ritual.

Xi Le: “…”

He closed the fridge and picked up the glass of water he had poured earlier.

If he couldn’t have cola, water would have to do.

But as he lifted the glass, he spotted a tiny driver in a mini truck perched on the rim.

Xi Le: …

Xi Le set down his cup and wanted to put on his shoes to go out and sort through his chaotic emotions, only to find a tribe praying to a stone statue inside one of his shoes.  

Finally, Xi Le lost his temper. Was there no end to this? Why were these tiny people building cities everywhere? They weren’t even following the newly enacted urban construction laws this year.  

Faced with the sudden appearance of this miniature world, Xi Le was at a loss. He was afraid of disturbing their lives.  

He waved his hand gently above them, curious to see their reaction. But to his surprise, the tiny people seemed completely oblivious to him, continuing with their own activities as if nothing had happened.  

Xi Le sighed in relief. It seemed he had no influence over them.  

Yet, he was still puzzled. Why were there so many tiny people in his home? What had brought them here?  

Just as Xi Le was lost in thought, he suddenly sensed an overwhelming surge of hatred.  

The emotion was so intense it was impossible to ignore.  

At first, Xi Le was stunned, but then he realized—this hatred was emanating from someone within the tiny world.  

He was baffled. Why could he feel this hatred? At the same time, his curiosity was piqued, and he couldn’t help but want to know what was happening.  

As soon as the thought crossed his mind, all the tiny cities and structures before him vanished, leaving only a small, humble house floating in his vision.  

Inside the house, a plainly dressed woman in her forties, slightly aged, knelt on the ground with offerings laid out before her, praying to something unknown.  

Tong Miao knelt on the floor, the offerings before her purchased with the last of her money.  

She was praying—to the Evil God, to the Contaminants, to anything that might answer her plea.  

She was willing to pay any price, even if it meant losing control and becoming a mindless, monstrous creature.  

But Tong Miao’s wish was doomed to go unfulfilled. She had been praying for half an hour, and nothing—no unknown force—had responded to her.  

She opened her eyes, filled with resentment and despair.  

She had once been an ordinary mother—indecisive, timid, and weak, always quarreling with her daughter over trivial matters in life, always feeling guilty because their poverty subjected her daughter to mockery from classmates.  

Life had been like that—mundane yet tinged with sorrow, the kind of ordinary existence most people led.  

She had thought she would remain ordinary forever, but everything changed that day.  

Tong Miao still remembered the day it happened—a day as unremarkable as any other, with weather so forgettable it was merely overcast, and no major events in the news.  

Her daughter, as she did every weekend, had gone to study with her best friend.  

Tong Miao, as usual, had tugged at her daughter’s sleeve, reminding her to come home early, not to stay out too long, and to eat her lunch properly.  

But she had never imagined that such an utterly ordinary day—one so unmemorable she could barely recall it even if she tried—would become the most despairing moment of her life.  

From the moment her daughter stepped out of the house, she never returned.  

She had been in a terrible car accident. The culprits were two drivers in a Porsche.  

When Tong Miao received the call from the police, she nearly fainted.  

By the time she managed to rush to the hospital, her daughter had already passed away—beyond saving.

Her daughter’s hands and waist were shattered, her legs twisted in a horrifying position—everything was so terrifying.  

Tong Miao kept shaking her, shaking her, trying to wake her up, but her daughter would never respond to her again.  

The two Porsche owners hadn’t left; they stood right beside her.  

Their faces twisted with mockery as they sneered about how pitiful and agonizing her daughter’s screams had been when they ran her over—how *pleasurable* it had been to hear.  

The ordinarily meek woman, her hair disheveled, lunged at them, wanting to kill both men, but a fragile woman like her was no match for them.  

They grabbed her by the hair, dragging her across the ground, her nails scraping bloody trails. She screamed for help from the bystanders, but no one stepped forward.  

And the police—standing right there—turned their faces away as if they saw nothing.  

She was beaten until her body was covered in wounds, a chunk of her scalp torn off, her arm hanging limp and twisted.  

Someone nearby filmed the incident and uploaded it online, but within half an hour, the video vanished without a trace.  

Only after being discharged from the ICU did the woman learn that the Porsche driver was the son of Taocheng’s wealthiest man!  

Under the weight of money and power, Tong Miao could barely breathe.  

She tried hiring lawyers, appealing to judges, seeking anyone who could speak for her daughter.  

Despite her overwhelming grief, in court, the opposing lawyer dismantled her arguments one by one, leaving her speechless.  

Worse, the lawyer twisted the blame onto her poor daughter, claiming she had been cunning and strange—that she had deliberately stepped in front of the car to extort the Porsche owners, only to be accidentally killed. That her daughter *deserved* it.  

*”It’s not like that! It’s not like that at all! My daughter was nothing like what you’re saying!”*  

*”You’re all lying! Where are the police? What are the police doing? Why are you slandering my daughter?!”*  

Tong Miao couldn’t bear to see her daughter’s memory tarnished even in death. She fought desperately to defend her, but her cries of despair were muted—the judge ignored her pleas and acquitted the two men on the spot. No fines, no jail time.  

For over a year, Tong Miao exhausted every avenue—media, legal channels—to seek justice for her daughter.  

But every appeal, every statement, was rejected.  

In utter despair, she turned to the occult.  

Her daughter had been fascinated by the esoteric in life, dabbling in tarot readings.  

Tong Miao had always stopped her, fearing that meddling with the unknown could invite something sinister.  

Yet now, those unspeakable, unseeable forces had become her last hope.  

But what good did sincerity do? No one heard her hysterical screams. No one could help her condemn those demons.  

A crushing sense of injustice filled Tong Miao’s heart.  

*”Why? Why is this happening?”*

“Why must my daughter die at such a young age, while those two demons don’t have to pay even the slightest price!”

Outside the door, the sound of commotion suddenly arose.

“Is this that bitch’s house?”

“Damn, she’s still here thinking about avenging her daughter, still wanting us to pay.”

“She seems to be praying for something.”

“Hurry in and stop her!”

Two men rushed forward, slapping Tong Miao to the ground.

“Damn it, you think attracting the gaze of those things can save you?”

“Lucky we came fast, or who knows what this woman might have conjured up.”

“Don’t worry, looks like her prayer failed.”

“Good that it failed, this trash.”

Tong Miao lay in pain on the ground but immediately crawled up, biting a man’s arm with all her strength.

“Ah! You fucking bitch!”

Tong Miao was slapped to the ground again, blood trickling from the corner of her mouth.

The two men were thoroughly enraged. They searched the room and soon found a box containing ashes.

Exchanging glances, one of them, wearing dress pants, sneered viciously, “This is your daughter’s urn, isn’t it?”

Tong Miao trembled, desperately crawling to the man in dress pants, clutching his pant leg, begging pitifully.

“Please, don’t spill it. She’s my only hope.”

The man kicked her hard in the chest.

“Now you’re being sensible? Where was this earlier?”

Blood foamed in her mouth. Tong Miao shook in pain but still gritted her teeth, trying to snatch back the urn.

The man in dress pants didn’t stop, kicking her several more times.

The other man laughed mockingly, “You know, your daughter was still calling for you when she died, wanting you to avenge her. But trash like you seeking revenge? What a fucking joke!”

“This urn looks pretty nice. How about you eat the ashes inside?”

“Jiajie, that’s a great idea.”

One man forced Tong Miao’s head up, prying open her mouth. “You want to avenge your daughter, right? How about becoming one with her first? With her in your belly, you can rest easy, can’t you?”

“Eat it! Make her eat it!”

Tong Miao raged, “You two bastards! You’re not human!”

Yet she was still forced to tilt her head back.

Tears streamed from Tong Miao’s eyes as her fury and despair reached an unprecedented peak.

Why was this happening? Why did her daughter have to suffer so much, dying in such misery, and why couldn’t she even get justice?

Oh Evil Gods of this world, if you can hear my prayer, I beg you to answer it, answer my prayer.

My flesh, my soul, my fate—I offer them all to you. Please, I beg you!

But no matter how Tong Miao pleaded, the salvation she imagined never came.

The men’s laughter grew more vicious. The ashes were about to be poured into her mouth.

At the critical moment, the surroundings seemed to shift.

The woman froze. The man gripping her chin suddenly collapsed to the ground.

The other man clutched his head in agony, as if hearing whispers that should never be heard.

On their bodies, Tong Miao suddenly saw the appearance of octopus tentacles, deformed eyes, and madly wriggling insect eggs.  

Before she knew it, the dark clouds in the sky gradually dispersed, revealing a blood-colored moon.  

The light of the Crimson Moon filled the entire room, heralding something eerie and ominous.  

At the same time, in the unnoticed depths of the ocean, countless kilometers-long octopuses with grotesque tentacles suddenly emerged from the abyss, letting out hoarse, low cries toward the sky.  

As if there—was their eternal master, their everlasting home.  

Tong Miao fell to her knees, her ears ringing, overwhelmed by indescribable fear and oppression.  

Chaotic whispers echoed in her ears, making her feel as though she might explode at any moment.  

In this helpless state, a hollow voice suddenly reached her ears.  

**[Is it you, praying to me?]**  

Tong Miao’s eyes widened—wider and wider—until she froze completely, tears streaming uncontrollably down her face.  

But then, what surged in her heart was an irrepressible ecstasy.  

The Evil God had truly descended!