"The Ten Supreme Lord Gods' Meeting will be held soon.
Noble Lord of Disaster, will you accept the invitation immediately?"
For the past three days, maybe longer, Tang Chuan had been completely dumbfounded.
This inexplicable sentence appeared in his mind almost once every hour.
Three days ago, it had been vague. Blurry. Easy to ignore.
Tang Chuan assumed it was just fatigue. Burnout. The kind of nonsense your brain throws at you when you've been hollowed out by overwork and lack of sleep.
But now?
Now it was loud.
Clear.
Undeniable.
Just moments ago, a translucent prompt box had appeared directly in front of his eyes, asking him whether he would accept the invitation.
There was only one option.
Accept.
No "Decline."
No "Ignore."
No "Are you insane?"
Dark circles hung under his eyes. The whites were bloodshot, webbed with red veins.
His head felt heavy. His thoughts sluggish. His entire body weak.
All of it was caused by that damn sentence, repeating endlessly over the past three days.
Tang Chuan was about to lose it.
No matter what kind of devil's prank this was, how was he supposed to accept it?
He wasn't stupid. Nor did he believe in sudden awakenings or chosen-one nonsense. He hadn't been obsessing over it by choice.
He hadn't responded earlier for two reasons.
First, it had been too unclear at the beginning. Annoying, but not unbearable.
Second, he was afraid that once he responded, something irreversible would happen.
But now?
Less than an hour would pass before it rang through his skull again, like a giant bell being struck inside his brain.
He couldn't sleep at night.
He couldn't nap during the day.
Who the hell could survive this?
"Damn it," Tang Chuan muttered.
"Fine. I don't care what kind of devil game this is anymore. If you won't let me sleep, I'll fight you to the end."
Instead of pressing "Accept," Tang Chuan staggered out of his dormitory, eyes red as if he hadn't slept in a week.
He took an express train and started his pilgrimage.
First, the nearest Buddhist temple.
Then, a Taoist temple halfway up a mountain.
Finally, a church in the city center.
"Patriarchs of the Three Pure Ones!
Tathagata Buddha!
Guanyin Bodhisattva!
Almighty God!"
He clasped his hands together desperately.
"Bless your devout believer! Drive away the demon that won't let me sleep!"
Along the way, Tang Chuan prayed sincerely,
and bought everything that looked remotely capable of warding off evil.
Talismans.
Charms.
Amulets.
Blessed trinkets.
None of them worked.
He'd already tried two days ago. Nothing could erase that voice.
Two so-called "masters" with immortal-looking appearances stared at him strangely.
Their expressions seemed to say: Are you actually possessed, or are you just making this up?
Naturally, they didn't refuse a paying customer.
They didn't exorcise anything either, but they did relieve Tang Chuan of a considerable amount of money.
One of them, feeling slightly guilty, eventually suggested he try a psychiatric sanatorium.
After leaving, the sentence struck again.
Twice.
Each time, Tang Chuan's eyes rolled back, his body swayed, and he nearly passed out.
It was getting worse.
Much worse.
The express train carried him back to his dormitory building.
He paid the driver, grabbed his bags, and was about to get out,
"The Ten Supreme Lord Gods' Meeting will be held soon.
Noble Lord of Disaster, will you accept the invitation immediately?"
Here it comes again.
Tang Chuan suddenly stiffened, as if lightning had struck him.
His body convulsed violently in the back seat.
After several seconds, he finally recovered.
The driver coughed awkwardly.
"Brother… even if you chartered the car, you shouldn't mess around like that."
"I wanted to say something earlier, but you hadn't paid yet. I was afraid you'd get angry and refuse to pay."
"Now that the money's in my account, I really can't hold it in anymore."
"You think I can't see you back there? What do you think the rearview mirror is for?"
Tang Chuan stared blankly for a moment, his mind still lagging.
"…Sorry," he said.
The driver waved it off. "It's fine. Uh… maybe give me a little extra for car washing?"
Tang Chuan froze.
Then his face darkened.
"Get lost."
He got out of the car and returned to his dormitory.
Once inside, he went all out.
A silver cross necklace.
A Guanyin pendant.
A consecrated Taoist talisman.
A ring of garlic around his neck.
In his hands, an oversized peachwood sword.
Strapped to his back, an exaggerated silver holy sword.
Splash.
He poured holy water, specially requested from the church, straight over his head.
"Accept! I accept the invitation!"
"I want to see who the hell won't let me sleep. I'll cut the devil into pieces!"
He paused, then added seriously:
"Of course, on a physical level, the demon god's height must not exceed 1.75 meters, and its weight must not exceed 65 kilograms."
Hoo—
The moment his words fell, strange energy wrapped around his body.
He floated into the air.
Reality twisted.
His body warped like a whirlpool, spinning, collapsing inward.
Finally, everything shrank into a tiny black dot.
Then, nothing.
The room was empty.
As if nothing had ever happened.
…
Tang Chuan's consciousness entered a bizarre passageway.
Abstract, distorted fragments surrounded him, as though he were piercing through all heavens and worlds.
Time and space felt tangible here, things you could grab with your hands.
Assuming you still had hands.
In this corridor, his body and consciousness lost all definition.
He didn't know where his limbs were.
He wasn't even sure he still had limbs.
Thought itself lagged behind the speed of travel.
It's over, he thought calmly.
I'm definitely dead.
Tang Chuan had always believed that even if strange things existed, reality had been stable for thousands of years.
Human society ran on human power.
If demons could freely descend, wouldn't the world already be finished?
In movies, demons needed contracts.
In legends, butchers filled with killing intent scared away ghosts.
His personal creed was simple:
If you don't accept reason, fight.
And if you can't fight?
Sit down and talk.
After seeing his surroundings, Tang Chuan sincerely believed that peaceful communication was the best option.
…
He didn't know how much time passed.
It felt like countless years compressed into a single instant.
When he regained awareness, he found himself lying on a dark expanse, paved like obsidian, stretching endlessly.
A continent?
Before he could think further, his vision went white.
His mind collapsed.
He fell, convulsing violently.
Information, vast beyond description, flooded into his consciousness.
Compared to it, his twenty-three years of life were nothing.
A grain of sand.
His mind shattered instantly.
When awareness returned again, he felt like a fetus suspended in warm fluid.
All exhaustion vanished.
Comfort enveloped him.
He didn't want to open his eyes.
In his haze, he saw a black prismatic crystal shimmering in darkness.
It compressed, stored, and sealed the endless information.
It repaired his broken consciousness.
Tang Chuan suddenly opened his eyes.
He stood up.
His gaze was empty.
He knew something, yet couldn't grasp it. Like waking from a dream that refused to be remembered.
Profound. Inexplicable.
"Why was such a weak clone sent to the meeting?"
A voice like a cosmic bell echoed.
Tang Chuan clutched his ears. His soul nearly tore apart.
This wasn't a language humans should understand.
And yet,
He understood it.
He raised his head.
The sky shrank.
Again.
And again.
Until the boundless continent beneath his feet revealed its true form.
A throne.
An enormous, black throne.
The land, vast as a sea of stars, was merely a seat.
And beyond it,
A palace spanning the universe itself.
Ten thrones stood within.
Ten supreme existences.
Tang Chuan stood among them.
Covered in crosses, talismans, garlic, holy water still dripping from his hair.
From a human perspective,
He was extremely normal.
Yet the nine other beings were all focused on him.
And Tang Chuan finally understood.
The sentence that tormented him for three days.
The invitation.
The Ten Supreme Lord Gods' Meeting.