Chapter 1: The Blessed Land of the Hidden Realm
The wind howled fiercely.
The rain poured down in torrents.
Dense, slanting droplets pelted the glass with a sharp pattering, splashing water that blurred the figure inside.
He was a man clad in a deep gray coat, slender in build, with slightly curled hair and defined features worn thin by fatigue. Heavy dark circles framed his eyes, bloodshot veins prominent beneath.
His gaze was fixed intently on the digital clock before him, counting down in unison with its numbers.
“58, 57…”
Perhaps this was the countdown of his very life.
The man’s name was Wu Xian, a third-rate private detective. This was his detective agency—a modest place where he often took on trivial jobs: investigating infidelities, catching mistresses, snapping photos of celebrities, or buying train tickets on behalf of others.
Yet these odd jobs were merely to make ends meet. The case he truly pursued was one entrusted by a mysterious client.
It was known as the “Blessed Land Case.”
This case involved an inexplicable global wave of disappearances, with an enormous number of missing persons from all walks of life, their identities completely random.
According to data Wu Xian and his detective partners had gathered, the annual tally of those vanishing because of the Blessed Land Case was alarmingly vast.
What baffled them most was that despite this staggering number of deaths, the world’s population structure remained healthy, social order stayed stable, and there was hardly any public outcry demanding investigation.
From what Wu Xian knew, the only ones willing to delve into this mystery were their ragtag detective group, hired for the task.
As the investigation deepened, Wu Xian’s teammates began vanishing one by one. The few who remained fled in terror, as if haunted by ghosts.
In the end, only Wu Xian held firm.
But today—
Wu Xian himself was about to be “disappeared.”
At noon the previous day, he had received a text message.
The sender: “Fuyuan City God.”
The message read: “You shall enter the Blessed Land at midnight on February 26. Prepare yourself in advance.”
Wu Xian’s detective comrades had all received similar messages; most had since vanished, while the rest had abandoned the investigation.
“27, 26…”
The moment drew ever closer.
Though fear flickered in Wu Xian’s eyes, what shone brighter was excitement and anticipation.
Unlike the others, Wu Xian’s pursuit of this case was neither for money nor for missing loved ones, nor for some lofty ideal. It was a pure, irresistible curiosity and obsession with the Blessed Land Case.
He had sacrificed three years to it, nearly pouring his entire being into it—his health deteriorated, his mind taxed to the limit, his efforts relentless.
At last, he was about to see the truth with his own eyes.
***
Within the cramped detective agency, twenty-eight surveillance cameras were installed, over a hundred traps set, and in his hand he held a switch. At the press of a button, pre-arranged explosives would reduce the agency to rubble.
With such precautions, he was confident no one could whisk him away silently.
“Let me see how you plan to do this—hypnosis, drugs, cyborgs, advanced technology… if it’s anything more absurd, it must be aliens.”
3, 2, 1—the countdown ended.
Click!
All the lights snapped off simultaneously; the monitor turned to static. The last thing Wu Xian saw was a pair of blackened hands emerging from the darkness to cover his eyes.
“Damn… this is even more ridiculous than I imagined.”
A coldness crept over Wu Xian’s body, rendering him unable even to press the switch. Regret gnawed at him.
“I was careless… I should have gotten some talismans or charms to ward off evil…”
Click.
The lights flickered back on. The room was empty, and the remote control lay fallen beneath the chair.
…
The cold hands released him. Wu Xian opened his eyes and scanned his surroundings.
He was no longer in the detective agency.
Instead, he found himself in a boundless, pitch-black wilderness. Three towering statues encircled him, illuminated only by red candles placed before them, while the rest of the area was swallowed by darkness.
In his hands appeared two items.
In his left hand, a burning incense stick. In his right, a booklet inscribed with the words “Familiar’s Pass.”
Opening the first page, the text read: “Familiar Wu Xian, you have arrived at the Blessed Land. Choose a deity to worship. Divine protection is the key to survival here.”
The booklet contained six more pages.
They detailed: talismans, divine powers, sacred implements, blessings, curses, and miscellaneous items. Wu Xian leafed through them carefully; only the pages on blessings and miscellaneous items contained content.
The blessings page bore a line of green text:
“Unknown Immortal Blessing: [One into Three] — Worship rewards increase by two additional options.”
The miscellaneous page listed two items:
“Familiar’s Pass: Identification for familiars of the Blessed Land. Possession grants entry.”
“Worship Incense: Plain incense for use in deity worship.”
Wu Xian scrutinized every word with seriousness, feeling the absurdity of it all—after three years of investigation, the truth was a supernatural phenomenon?
Yet a glimmer of joy stirred within him.
***
This space gave him a sense of comfort and ease, like a weary traveler finally returning to the nurturing soil of his homeland, able at last to set down his burdens.
Suddenly, Wu Xian sensed movement in the darkness behind the statues. A pair of blood-red eyes drew nearer and nearer. The burning incense in his hand flared suddenly.
What would happen when the incense burned out?
Wu Xian turned to face the three statues.
One was clad entirely in yellow robes, crowned with a ceremonial headdress; its hands, feet, and head were but vague shadows of light. The yellow robe was densely inscribed with small clerical script characters.
Another was covered in black fur, with protruding bone spikes, resembling a wild beast. Its black horns formed a crown-like shape.
The third was composed of dozens of blue bubbles fused together, topped with a glowing halo shaped like a crown. Each bubble enclosed a mysterious sacred implement.
Before each statue stood a small altar, upon which rested two red candles and an incense burner.
These three statues must hold significance, but the incense was burning rapidly, leaving Wu Xian little time to ponder. He inserted the worship incense into the burner before the yellow-robed statue.
His choice was arbitrary, guided only by the fact that this figure appeared more human.
The moment the incense was placed, the other two statues vanished, and the agitation in the darkness ceased. Smoke from the incense coalesced atop the altar into three smoky talismanic symbols.
“Three… is this the effect of the [One into Three] blessing? There should have been only one.”
Wu Xian hovered his hand over the smoky talismans, and a stream of information surged into his mind:
True Fire Curse: Releases a true fire. Usable times [3/3].
Defilement Mark: Blesses an item by adding a trace of ‘defilement.’ Effect ends when depleted. Can contaminate sacred implements or disrupt magic.
Double Casting: When using the next single-cast talisman, the effect doubles. Usable times [2/2].
Wu Xian did not know how these talismans were employed, nor the precise effects they would wield, but he understood he must choose before the incense burned out.
“Double Casting needs to be paired with another talisman, Defilement Mark sounds dirty… I’ll go with True Fire Curse!”
Wu Xian plunged his hand into the smoke of the True Fire Curse and withdrew a yellow talisman paper. The other two wisps of smoky talismans dissipated.
With his choice made, the last statue vanished without a trace.
Wu Xian pinched the talisman paper between his fingers, pondering how to use it.
Before he could decide, a pair of blackened hands reached out from behind, clamping tightly over his eyes. The coldness struck again.
Faintly, Wu Xian heard a soft chant:
“Praise the Deceptive Mother, offer my flesh and bones, blind my eyes to save my life, clap hands to honor the master…”