Chapter One: Resurrection

Amidst the frenzied screams, Lu Mingfei’s mind began to blur, drifting into blind dullness. Perhaps only true gods could explain all that had already transpired. Too late—everything was too late. Lu Mingfei would pay the price for his arrogance and greed.

Twisted, morbid shadows, sensitive and furtive, rolled and spiraled through the dreadful midnight—like countless hands, though none were truly hands; rotting creations, shattered cities, starless planets riddled with wounds.

A chilling wind swept past pale stars, stripping color from sun and moon, leaving heaven and earth in darkness.

Colossal pillars loomed, half-hidden, between worlds. They hailed from beyond the ordered cosmos, from the primordial temples unreachable even by dreams.

Lu Mingfei was about to descend into a vast abyss where even light could not escape—or perhaps ascend—here, time and space lost all meaning.

Upon this nauseating cemetery of the void, where yin and yang were sundered, from the inner sanctum of a temple beyond time, came wave after wave of indistinct, maddeningly resentful drumming, accompanied by a vile, monotonous flute’s blasphemous lament.

Those immense, gloomy ultimate gods—blind, mindless, and godless—for their souls were none other than: “Nyarlathotep!”

...

“Nyarlathotep!”

Lu Mingfei awoke from sleep, clutching his head and screaming.

When the terror subsided, he realized he’d fallen asleep at his desk. This familiar yet strange setting—was this...

Was this the warm, stable universe he once knew? Was this... his bedroom?

“I’m not dead? How could this be?”

He reached out and grasped at the air, feeling the flow of wind between his fingers. On the desk sat an old IBM laptop, no mouse plugged in. On the screen, a QQ chat box blinked with an irritable panda avatar, dinging incessantly.

“Brother, you play Zerg pretty well. Next time, let’s go again! Your micro needs work, but your tactical sense is good.”

Lu Mingfei tapped randomly on the keyboard. The computer dutifully reflected his input on the screen.

“Is the world after death really so orderly and gentle? Or have I been resurrected?”

He found it unbelievable. He couldn’t tell if he’d fallen into madness and was living out a fantasy, or if he had truly returned to his hometown, this gentle planet.

For reasons unknown, he had suddenly appeared in that sinister, hateful world, crawling with all manner of dreadful beings hidden in history’s shadows.

Among them, the most terrifying and awe-inspiring—merely uttering their names could invite doom beyond resistance.

As a stranger, Lu Mingfei endured a long period of wandering and escape, worse than death, before he luckily came across a mysterious magical tome, the Seven Chapters of the Profound Lord.

Driven by hardship, danger, loneliness, and the residents’ hostility toward outsiders, he failed to restrain his thirst for supernatural power. Step by step, he plunged into the abyss, finally summoning the great evil god Nyarlathotep, who toyed with him and cast him into obliteration.

Now, recalling his ecstasy the first time he wielded magic, it seemed nothing short of ironic—like setting oneself ablaze with a torch for a moment’s warmth, rejoicing in one’s own foolishness.

Confusion, grief, loneliness, joy, and finally deep despair—all these memories surged through him. Lu Mingfei sighed, remembering the passage written by the Chinese philosopher “Profound Lord” in the preface of the Seven Chapters:

“Clouds gather, obscuring the sky; rivers and lakes grow dim; wandering fish are at a loss. Suddenly, the waves brighten and food stirs—granted by Heaven, the fish seize it, only to perish on the hook. The seeker of truth fares no better. The more the eye seeks clarity, the more it is wounded; the more the ear hears, the more it is harmed; the more the heart contemplates mystery, the more it aches.”

If only he had never touched magic; if only he lacked the talent for it; if only he had not dared summon the “Crawling Chaos”—would everything have been different?

There was no point in dwelling on these questions. After a brief reckoning, Lu Mingfei accepted the apparent reality of his resurrection.

If all this was merely a fantasy conjured in madness, at least he felt no fear or anxiety; instead, a tranquil, self-contented joy. That was good.

If, in truth, he had escaped that desperate world after death, then even living out his ordinary life as a mortal was precious beyond measure. That was even better.

Hereafter, he would seal off magic and live as an ordinary person!

“Lu Mingfei! A box of discounted bagged milk, half a pound of Guangdong sausage, and the latest issue of ‘Novel Illustration’ for Mingze—hurry back after you buy them, and pick the celery on the table for me! Also, check the mailroom for any letters from America! Still playing games? You don’t care about your own affairs at all. If no one admits you, how will you get into a top university? We’ve spent so much money on you; what’s the use?”

His aunt’s voice thundered from the next room.

Lu Mingfei unconsciously frowned, curling his lips into a cold smile. He patted his waist, intending to pull out his “Command Token” and “Five Flags,” to summon his “troops” and teach the woman who dared roar at him a lesson she’d never forget.

Originally, Lu Mingfei had been somewhat timid and indecisive, but was undeniably a kind-hearted soul. Yet those lavish things had long since been worn away in that hopeless universe.

After mastering the Seven Chapters, no one in his city—illiterate paupers, wealthy capitalists, or powerful nobles—dared rage before him.

But now, Lu Mingfei merely slapped his waist twice, finding himself dressed in a white T-shirt, with no pouch at his side.

Right, he had returned, and he had promised to seal away his magic.

Perhaps growing impatient, his aunt, apron tied and holding a kitchen knife, pushed open his door and roared:

“What are you standing there for? Get going! Haven’t you played enough games? What good can come from gaming?”

Lu Mingfei glanced at her broad, sturdy frame and thick arms, the kitchen knife still glinting coldly despite being coated in chopped scallions. Then he looked at his own slender, fragile arms.

“......”

A wise man does not suffer losses before his eyes.

He sidestepped his aunt, grabbed the money from the table, shoved it in his pocket, and headed out the door.

Had someone just messaged him on QQ? Never mind, he wasn’t anyone important—what pressing matters could there be?

His aunt’s complaints echoed behind him:

“Leaving without saying a word! So grown up, and still complaining about grocery shopping! Raising you for nothing!”

The corridor was quiet. Afternoon sunlight streamed in through the window at the end of the hallway, warm and gentle on his skin, as if from another world.

Lu Mingfei felt at peace, his steps light. The dark shadow behind him twisted continuously as he moved, like a “person” dancing in delight, having gained everything it ever wished for.