Chapter 2: The Legend of the Primordial Era

On the Divine Demon Continent, a legend has long been whispered: a thousand years ago, there were neither strange beasts nor people with supernatural powers. Life was simple. Men tilled the fields, women wove at their looms; there was no strife, no bloodshed. Until one day, a young man set foot on this land. His name was Seventeen. He always wore a hat that shadowed his entire face, and no one knew his real name. For a time, Seventeen stayed in a place called Jingxin Village. He was taciturn, shunned contact with outsiders, and kept himself locked away in his room. No one knew what he did within.

That evening, the villagers of Jingxin gathered outside the village for their annual bonfire, a tradition celebrating the year’s harvest. It was July, on the verge of winter, and the biting wind howled, but it could not dampen the villagers’ enthusiasm. This night would be unforgettable, for from then on, every fifteenth of July, one would see burning offerings at the crossroads—an homage to ancestors, and a memorial to Seventeen.

As usual, Seventeen shut himself in his room that night, seemingly uninterested in the world outside. A few half-grown children from the village, used to a lack of discipline and driven by curiosity, seized the chance while the adults celebrated outside to sneak up to Seventeen’s dwelling. To them, he was a strange man. They poked a hole through the paper window, and through it, they witnessed a sight that would haunt them forever: half of Seventeen’s face had completely rotted away, exposing stark white bone and a neat row of teeth. Never before had they encountered such horror. Panic-stricken, they scrambled to flee. One boy, in his haste, knocked over a flowerpot outside the window, the noise alerting Seventeen inside.

Seventeen sprang up from his chair. The children had already vanished into the night, but he gave chase, following them all the way out of the village. The villagers were still celebrating when they saw Seventeen’s dreadful visage; they seized torches, hurling stones at him, trying to drive him away. To Seventeen, this was nothing new—perhaps it was time to leave again, though he had no idea where to go. Shielding his head with his arms, he turned away in silence. But at that moment, a burly villager seized him in a bear hug. This man was called Fourth Brother, real name Li Wei, but everyone knew him as Bold Li.

Very soon, Seventeen was tightly bound and thrown before the crowd. “Burn him!” they cried. “Monster!” The shouts and curses flew thick and fast. Seventeen said nothing, a single silent tear tracing down his cheek. The villagers carried him to the stage—once the site of their celebration, now Seventeen’s pyre. He lifted his head and gazed into the distance, drawing a deep breath, never uttering a word.

The villagers set the stage alight with their torches. In the blaze, Seventeen squeezed his eyes shut, his half-rotten face seeming all the more eerie. Just as the crowd began to relax, a chilling sound arose from within the inferno—a summons like that of Death itself from the depths of hell. The people recoiled in fear. The flames leapt higher, and a sudden wind whipped them into a frenzy. Even as fire consumed him, Seventeen remained motionless, staring into the distance. The villagers began to retreat, but the fire surged toward them, engulfing those at the rear—within moments, several were reduced to ash. Out from the sea of flames strode a man, half his face terribly decayed, his body still wreathed in fire.

The villagers panicked and ran for the edge of the village. Jingxin was surrounded by boundless sea, with only a single road leading out from the rear. In their terror, the villagers thought only of escape. The man from the flames appeared before one villager in an instant, his hands transformed into claws that pierced the man’s chest. Fresh blood splattered across the burning figure, and the fire blazed even more fiercely.

Like a demon from hell, he reaped the villagers’ lives. Of the hundred or more present, nearly half fell to his hands within moments. None of them understood, even as they died, the reason for their doom.

At this point, Zhang Lei suddenly fell silent. Just as I was about to speak, he pressed me to the ground. Following his gaze, I saw a horde of those giant ants we had encountered before, emerging below the waterfall—at least a hundred, by rough count.

“Can you fight?” Zhang Lei asked, gripping a fist-sized stone. I nodded noncommittally. At this moment, it seemed we had no other choice. Behind us rose a jagged, towering mountain, a thousand meters high. We stood on a jutting ledge; the waterfall spilled from a cave lower down, feeding a swift pool. The giant ants were attempting to skirt the pool and climb up toward us.

We were about to be surrounded. Zhang Lei spoke: “Listen, we have to work together. I saw you fall a hundred meters just now without a scratch—you’re stronger than I am. I’ll cover you from above with stones; you go down and clear a path. If you get a chance, break through and escape. Understood?”

I nodded again. In this strange world, I knew nothing and no one. Though Zhang Lei’s plan might put me in mortal danger, I had no other options. All I knew was that my body had undeniably changed somehow, and if I wanted to understand what had happened, real combat was the best test.

I leapt from the cliff and landed among the giant ants. They quickly noticed me, raising forelimbs thicker than my thigh to attack. I rolled across the ground, dodging their strikes. Their movements seemed to slow before my eyes. Seizing the moment before one could withdraw its limb, I punched with all my might, shattering the metallic joint. With one leg gone, the ant lost its balance—and its ability to fight. Having found their weakness, I fought with increasing confidence. Soon, the ground was littered with the corpses of giant ants.

At last, after I had wiped out the swarm, Zhang Lei climbed down. I went to the pool’s edge to wash myself, and then we found a spot to sit. Zhang Lei resumed his tale of the legend from a thousand years before.