28 Extraordinary Exchanges 2

I have always considered my supernatural ability to be quite ordinary, though I have never claimed it to be weak. Although I have never truly exerted myself, by my estimation, if I were serious, unleashing a massive fireball capable of leveling an entire street would be no great feat. But does immense destructive power necessarily equate to true strength? Not necessarily. When I was trapped beneath a cave, it was not raw destructive power that freed me from the underground chamber, but rather analysis and reasoning.

Therefore, I remain doubtful whether my power should be classified as “strong.” Who knows what the average strength of demon hunters is, or what precise criteria define strength or weakness? Perhaps many people measure power by “how large a crater one can make on the ground.” I can no longer view it so simplistically.

“Having such a formidable supernatural ability, have you never revealed it to those around you?” Zhu Shi asked suddenly, suspicion creeping into her voice after she had calmed down. “So many people criticize you, call you crazy—have you never thought of taking revenge on them?

“Since you possess this ability to ‘kill with your eyes’… no, you don’t even need to be physically present. Just the intent alone can ignite your target from miles away. Whether to inflict a minor burn or a grievous injury is entirely up to you. Others would never suspect it came from you, right?”

Seeing her growing paranoid, I deliberately played along. “So that’s another way to do it. Thanks for the tip; I’ll try it next time.”

She glared at me.

“That was a joke. Don’t worry, I’ve never even considered doing such a thing,” I promised.

She stared at me for a long moment before relaxing her shoulders and sighing helplessly: “I hope that’s true. I don’t want to see you become a fallen demon hunter…”

“Thanks for your concern,” I replied. “By the way, that fallen demon hunter—is he not a traitor within your ranks but someone who has been using extraordinary powers for evil from the very start?”

Because the title “fallen demon hunter” implies a hunter who was once on the side of good but later fell from grace and became a violent murderer of humanity, I initially assumed this was the case. But since I could become a “fallen demon hunter” in an instant, it was clear the other could be as well.

Zhu Shi nodded. “Yes. He first appeared eight months ago, the culprit in a murder case on the fifteenth floor. He was the killer.”

I still had questions about the origin of the fallen demon hunter, but instead asked what concerned me most: “From your perspective, is he strong or weak?”

“…Strong,” Zhu Shi answered without hesitation. “Luoshan roughly divides demon hunters into four levels, ranked from strongest to weakest: Cheng, Zhu, Huai, and Kong. Most demon hunters are at the 'Huai' level, while that fallen demon hunter is at the 'Zhu' level. He also possesses very comprehensive physical enhancements, making him a top-tier among the 'Zhu' ranks.”

Cheng, Zhu, Huai, Kong—these are Buddhist concepts describing the four stages of the world’s formation and destruction.

“Cheng” corresponds to birth and formation; “Zhu” to stability and sustained existence; “Huai” and “Kong” to decline and ultimate annihilation.

It’s odd that “Luoshan,” a Taoist concept, uses Buddhist terms for demon hunter rankings. But Taoism and Buddhism have historically influenced each other extensively—for example, the Taoist underworld concept was shaped by Buddhist ideas, and the notion of “Fengdu Luoshan” emerged from this synthesis.

Zhu Shi added: “I only began handling the fallen demon hunter case a week ago. Before me, two Luoshan demon hunters assigned to this case were killed by him.”

“He’s really that dangerous?” I asked in surprise.

“Extremely,” she replied, then analyzed for me: “Since your supernatural ability can damage the fallen demon hunter’s body, your attack must at least be ‘Zhu’ level, which is rare among demon hunters.”

“So, in your opinion…” I asked the question weighing on my mind, “would I be able to join Luoshan?”

Unexpectedly, she furrowed her brows immediately. “You want to join Luoshan?”

“Is there a problem?” I was surprised.

“It’s not strange for someone with your personality to want to join Luoshan, but…” She hesitated. “I strongly advise against it, especially now. Luoshan is in chaos internally and may soon erupt into conflict. I can't say more, but you really shouldn’t join during such turbulent times.”

Chaos? Conflict? My interest piqued instantly. Unknown turmoil and strife within a supernatural organization sounded irresistibly intriguing. It was clear she wished to keep me out of harm's way, and I appreciated her kindness. Still, whether I choose to become involved depends on understanding the full story.

Her resistance was palpable, so I switched to another pressing question: “Does Chang’an know you’re a demon hunter?”

“No, he doesn’t. Not only does he not know I’m a hunter, he’s completely unaware of our world.”

Her words pleased me—not because Chang’an was ignorant, but because she included me in “our world.” As a fellow hunter, her acknowledgment made me feel a sense of belonging.

She continued, “Also, I hope you don’t tell him. Neither about my work nor anything related to the anomalous.”

“Is it meant to be kept secret? But he’s already encountered the strange phenomena on the fifteenth floor, hasn’t he?” I pointed out. “Why does Luoshan hide information about the anomalous from mainstream society?”

“I don’t know how to explain it. I imagine you’ll come to feel the same way as me eventually.” She sighed. “The fifteenth floor incident was an accident—we just have to accept it. We can’t just give up. I’ll go clear the ritual formation and the cave there first thing tomorrow morning.”

“The ritual formation—that magic circle?” I feigned ignorance of her earlier phone call with Agent Kong.

“Yes,” she nodded. “But the ritual formation and the cave might not be linked. The cave remains a mystery. Since you lack experience with true anomalous events, I suggest you avoid it…”

She suddenly paused, noticing something. “Wait, where exactly did you say you encountered the fallen demon hunter?”

Instead of answering, I volunteered information about the cave.

“The cave is actually connected to the ritual formation. I’ve solved the mystery—there were missing symbols in the formation, and the letters on the carpet completed them. So whenever the carpet is laid down, the cave alternates between appearing and disappearing.”

“Huh?” She was stunned, then instinctively asked, “But the carpet and floor aren’t on the same level, right?”

“That doesn’t matter. Even with the floorboard separating it from the cave beneath, placing the missing symbols in the right spot can reopen the cave.” I explained patiently. “There are other unknowns, though. For example, when others enter, the cave’s entrance mysteriously disappears. I haven’t figured out why yet. You’ll need to be cautious if you go in…”

“Wait, wait, wait—hold on a second…” She finally snapped out of it, staring at me with wide eyes. “Can you explain why you know the cave can be reopened even from underneath, and why the entrance vanishes after entry?”

“Because I went in.”

“You went in!?” She exclaimed, then quickly calmed herself. “Aren’t you afraid you might never come out?”

“That’s not important.”

“No, it is important…” she retorted.

I pressed on. “Anyway, since you’re handling the cave, I’ll give you everything I know…”

So I began recounting all the information I had.

In truth, I hoped she wouldn’t deal with the cave just yet, so I could continue investigating its mysteries. But first, I didn’t know whether the cave’s existence might affect Chang’an, who had contact with it. Second, rather than opposing Zhu Shi, I preferred to facilitate her efforts and build a good relationship with her and the Luoshan faction behind her. As I always say, I know the difference between a meal when hungry and frequent meals.

As I described my experiences beneath the cave, her gaze grew increasingly strange.

After I finished, she sighed deeply. It took a while before she seemed to fully process what I had said, her expression turning utterly hollow.

“I always thought you just loved ghost stories,” she said. “When those people outside called you a madman, I assumed they misunderstood you because they didn’t know you like I do. They had it all wrong…”

“Regardless of whether they misunderstood me, we’ve only met a few times in person, right?” I asked, puzzled.

She replied matter-of-factly, “But we chat online all the time.”

That was just online, though.

She often discussed Chang’an with me online, and we exchanged a lot. But the internet is still the internet—without meeting face to face, how can either truly know the other's heart? I couldn’t be chatting endlessly about my failed investigations into the anomalous with a friend’s sister when those investigations were the core of my life.

I wondered if she was the type easily fooled by online scams.

It seemed she had always viewed me as a good friend, whereas I was only now realizing it, feeling somewhat ashamed.

“But now I must admit, the one who truly misunderstood was me,” she said in frustration. “When I heard you awakened your powers long ago, I thought your pursuit of ghost stories was because you yourself were proof of the anomalous. Now it seems I was mistaken.”

“No, that’s exactly it,” I said. “Without my powers, I don’t know if I’d have made it this far.”

“Belief in the anomalous and obsession with it are two different things,” she shook her head. “Now I’m sure—whether or not you have powers, you’ll keep going.”