Chapter One: The Harvest of Souls in Hell

The deep and silent night sky hung with a crimson moon at its edge—a scene both desolate and mysterious, lonely yet warm, tinged with melancholy and beauty. Its exquisite outline cast a hazy glow, with scattered stars weaving in and out of the darkness, guarding its presence.

A gentle breeze swept through, and the moonlight filtered through mist, caressing the earth—mountains, rivers, trees, blossoms—all swayed and danced in the wind as if wings had been granted to them, painting a landscape so breathtakingly lovely that it seemed a series of still, enchanting scenes, too mesmerizing to disturb.

The Spirit Realm was ever shrouded in mystery. It existed alongside Earth's night, the final destination for human souls—often called "Hell" by mortals.

Within the Spirit Realm, mountains rose and fell, emerald waters mirrored the sky, ancient trees towered, lush and vibrant, teeming with life—some species unknown, as though the realm were an untouched planet. Far from the clamor of cities and the vanity of the mundane world, perhaps nowhere else could such pure land be found.

It was hard to imagine that such a paradise had never basked in sunlight, forever hidden in Earth's shadow, nourishing human souls yet untouched by human feet. Thus, humanity could only use imagination to paint this splendid paradise of souls.

Time, like a monstrous flood, sweeps all away and lets the world begin anew. Busy humans seldom realize its value until, at the edge of death, they look back and find only faded memories, leaving no trace of their existence. When even memories fade from cold bodies, it becomes clear that nothing was truly left behind.

After death, souls drift in the mortal realm. Night opens the doors to the Spirit Realm, and souls, compelled, merge into it in a new form of existence, finding rebirth.

Yet, during human evolution, a rare few souls grow exceptionally strong and refuse to depart. Then, guides appear in the mortal world to resolve their obsessions and lead them into the Spirit Realm. Otherwise, destruction awaits, lest they bring calamity.

Such beings are shrouded in secrecy; none know whence they come or where they go. People call them "Shadows."

Time passed, day and night cycled on, and the Spirit Realm continued to hide quietly in the moonlit night, its existence lost in the ages.

...

Another tranquil night descended. In the midair of the Spirit Realm, pink moonlight bathed a vast expanse of marshland between the mountains, making it sparkle like scattered pearls across the landscape, rendering each peak stunningly beautiful.

Suddenly, a streak of red light flashed across the sky, disturbing the peace beneath the night.

"Swish, swish, swish..."

A figure leapt rapidly among the cliffs and precipices, finally landing lightly on a marsh, as if skimming the water's surface.

She brushed dust from her clothes, her delicate eyebrows furrowing slightly as her clear eyes swept around, her nose twitching as she sniffed for something.

In a moment, her petite lips curved into a beautiful smile, directed at a small pond a hundred meters to her left. Her refined face broke into a row of neat white teeth and two shallow dimples, a wave of relief spreading through her.

With a swift step, she reached the pond's edge—a five-meter square patch surrounded by dense vegetation, otherwise unremarkable.

The girl in red spoke softly to the pond, "Stop hiding. Come out. I’ll take you home."

A gentle breeze blew, stirring ripples across the pond, but nothing else moved. The girl seemed to be speaking to herself.

Time ticked by. The wind played with her hair and the red silk of her dress, revealing her tall, graceful figure.

The night grew quiet. She stood unmoving, like a statue, waiting in silence.

Suddenly, the water erupted with violent waves, as something stirred the stagnant pool, shaking earth and weeds into the water.

From the surface, a water column rose.

It spun swiftly, shooting upwards, scattering droplets like bullets across the night, as if to destroy everything nearby.

The girl in red raised her hands and formed a seal before her chest. Instantly, a faint red transparent membrane enveloped her. The droplets struck the membrane, hissing and evaporating instantly.

A few stray drops pierced trees a hundred meters away, shattering trunks and scattering into countless smaller droplets, spraying outwards. Leaves and dust flew, and the forest was left battered and smoky.

Such deadly attacks were dismissed lightly by the girl, showing her terrifying power. She stepped carefully to the pond’s edge, observing.

Sensing the disparity in strength, the pond calmed, the water column slowly sinking, and a human silhouette appeared on the surface.

---

Though the girl in red had anticipated this, she was still taken aback. She murmured, "How could it be like this?"

After a brief hesitation, she quickly produced a soul-capturing pouch. Without a word, she drew a dark whip from her waist, flicked it, and a pale white light shot into the pouch in her left hand.

The pond returned to peace, the silhouette vanished.

"Task finally complete." Her movements were crisp and decisive, leaving no chance for the silhouette to react. She packed away the whip and pouch, relaxing visibly.

Just as she caught her breath, a silver curved blade shot from the distant cliff, speeding toward her. She did not blink, standing calmly.

The flying blade struck her shield, unable to get closer, sending out harsh screeching sounds and sparks.

She looked up fiercely at a thousand-year-old tree clinging to the cliff and shouted, "Get lost!"

Her shield blazed with red light, bouncing the blade up the cliff, cleaving the ancient tree into splinters, embedding the blade in the rock with only the hilt visible.

A smoky shadow shot from the wreckage, tumbling into a puddle in the marsh.

The dark-clad figure, scorched and furious, staggered to his feet. "Kill!" he cried, still sparking, rushing at the girl as if to fight to the end—yet after two steps, he realized she was gone.

He wondered, had he frightened her off? He didn’t know where his confidence came from.

"Hey! The one with smoke coming out—turn around." The girl in red helpfully called, also bewildered by his behavior.

The dark figure's face twisted, but the night hid his embarrassment; otherwise, he could have taught face-changing performances.

He stood dumbly, still smoking, unable to recover.

"Failed to ambush her, got beaten by a slip of a girl, and now... I should have just smashed my head on that cliff. How embarrassing..." He fumed inwardly, regretting his rashness, but his legs felt leaden.

"Random strays dare block my path—how boring. Hey! Are you done yet? I’m leaving." She called out with disdain, inadvertently rubbing salt into his wounds.

After a deep breath, the dark figure turned slowly—he was tall and well-built, his features sharp as if sculpted, eyes deep and rebellious, cold and unfeeling.

Yet, with his smoking clothes and soot-blackened face, this young, cold man looked comically out of place, like a damp lump of coal.

"You think you can come and go as you please here? Be sensible and surrender." He tried to sound imposing.

"Are you brain-damaged from the blast? Nearly roasted, and you want me to surrender? Are you serious, man? Even jokes have limits, rookie." She mocked, enjoying his discomfort.

"You... you... I’ll remember you." He ground his teeth, plotting to use his trump card, biting his finger and sketching symbols on the ground...

She saw at once he was clumsily drawing the pattern for an ancient teleportation array—a massive, mysterious glyph he could barely control, clearly acting out of desperation.

She watched him curiously, "What’s this? Losing and self-harming to gain sympathy? So touching." She folded her arms, watching the spectacle.

His task was already difficult; her taunts made his arm tremble, the gold-lit glyph flickering and dimming.

She did not interfere, amused as if at a circus.

He continued, sweat pouring, as the glyph grew bright and mysterious. Her voice nagged, "Can you hurry?" "How much longer?" "I need to clock out!" "I’m sleepy!"...

A crisp slap signaled completion. He stood, muttering spells, and finally sneered coldly, shouting, "Blood Spirit Summon—Howling Heavenly Dog!"

The circle exploded in golden light, vibrating fiercely as something materialized.

Meanwhile, the girl in red yawned, already expecting this, and with a mischievous smile said, "Sorry, something at home, must go. Goodbye!"

---

She pulled out a space-time talisman, ignited it, and a dazzling white light descended, enveloping her as she vanished, leaving only the ashes of the talisman drifting in the air.

The dark youth's smug smile froze as he stood motionless, the air seeming to drain away, heavy and strange.

In the fading glow of the teleportation circle, a huge creature appeared—dog-shaped, leopard-spotted, horned.

Unaware, the beast looked around, saw nothing amiss, and stamped a massive paw, splashing mud and shaking the ground. Lowering its head, eyes lantern-sized, it snarled at the youth. Then, with a foul-mouthed roar, it spoke, "How many times have I told you—don’t bother me unless it’s important! And if you call me a dog again, I’ll bite you. I am a divine beast!" With a roll of its eyes, it turned to leave.

The youth could only stand strong, enduring the barrage of mud and saliva.

"Wait, Stinky Feet!" A strong voice called from afar, halting the beast.

A kindly, weathered old man in a gray robe, white beard and staff, emerged from the ruined grove nearby.

"Hey, old monster, are you two making a joke at my expense? You’re here, and you call me over?" The beast was much more polite to him.

"Father, you're here? When did you arrive?" The youth finally came to his senses, puzzled.

The old man smiled at the beast, "Brother Paw, don’t be offended. I’ve been here for a while. As the host, I had to greet the guest. Don’t blame him—there was danger, but the girl was merciful. Had she wanted, she could have ended him while he fiddled with that array."

He turned to his son, "Son, next time draw faster—I almost couldn’t resist jumping in to help, you were so slow." He smiled kindly, with mild reproach.

"So you watched me get beaten and did nothing?" The youth felt stabbed again, breathing hard.

"Heh, right, not much of a father, just watched his son suffer. No humanity at all," the beast chimed in, stirring trouble.

"If I hadn’t been nearby, you’d already be crippled! Everyone knows you’re my son, so no one dares bully you—hence your bad habits. You think you're invincible, but there’s always someone greater. A little setback is good for you, saves you from bigger losses later!" The old man seized the chance to teach, urging his son to broaden his horizons.

Though angry, the youth saw some sense in his father’s words, but protested loudly, "Is that all? We usually collect souls from the mortal world, but now someone comes here and runs rampant—I can’t let it go!"

The old man sighed, "If I could stop her, would I hide and watch? She’s far stronger than you think. Let this matter rest—no one is to speak of it. If rumors spread, I’ll cut off its roots." He leered at the beast, contrasting his earlier kindness.

The beast, now sitting as a bystander, glanced nervously at its own roots. "I protest! Old monster, that's species discrimination. He’s your son—what if he tells?"

"Protest denied! I am the law here. Stinky Feet, want to discuss life with me?" The old man threatened, glaring.

The beast stared back, but as their eyes met, a surge of fear overwhelmed it, and it backed away, whining.

In this world, power ruled—and the beast knew it was no match for the realm’s master.

With the beast subdued, the old man resumed his lecture, "Son, since you’re free today, let me tell you about my heroic youth—I wasn't as timid as you, I was really dashing..."

He was about to begin when the youth interrupted, "I’m going to train." With a few leaps, he climbed the cliff to retrieve his weapon—the Soul-Cleaving Blade—lost during his failed ambush.

"Ah, good—practice more, so you don’t get beaten so badly next time!" The old man called after him.

The youth nearly slipped from the cliff as he retrieved his blade.

"Stinky Feet, I’m eager to talk about life, my past..." The old man turned to the beast, earnestly.

Without a word, the beast vanished at lightning speed.

"Well! Dog jumps the wall?" The old man rubbed his eyes, surprised.

"So rude... But truly, the affairs of this world are unpredictable. May today be a good beginning." He gazed up at the night sky, speaking with deep meaning.