I Become a Deity in a Different World

The door creaked open, and amidst the eerie howling wind, the flame inside the lantern emitted a pale, ghastly light. Instead of bringing comfort, the illumination cast an indescribable chill over the surroundings.

Yet, this very chill brought an inexplicable sense of relief to the two brothers, "No Salvation" and "Inevitable Death."

Seeing that the lantern's light had not extinguished, the brothers felt a momentary ease. Under the pale glow, they exchanged a relieved smile. But before they could speak, a fierce gust of wind roared through.

Amidst the howling, the lantern—boasted by the paper craftsman Zhang to be unextinguishable—swayed violently twice. Suddenly, a grotesque black human face emerged on the lantern's surface.

The face bore expressions of agony and malice. Its eyes shifted, glancing at the two brothers inside the room, before the shadowy figure exploded with a loud bang.

As the black ghostly face shattered, the supposedly indestructible human-skin lantern crumbled into pieces. The tiny flame inside, no larger than a peanut, couldn't withstand the fierce wind and was snuffed out with a soft puff.

The room was plunged into darkness.

"..."

The brothers' smiles froze on their faces, their bodies feeling as if they had been thrown into an icy abyss.

"Ah!!!"

"Ah—"

Two blood-curdling screams echoed one after another.

With the light extinguished, their protection was gone. The ghosts would soon discover their hiding place and ensnare them, draining their life force until nothing remained.

The brothers waited in despair for death. The braver of the two, the older brother, lost all will to resist and slumped to the ground.

Unbeknownst to them, at the moment the human-skin lantern shattered, the "Register of Gods and Demons" on Zhao Fusheng's body began to reboot.

As the Register successfully restarted, the plaque hanging outside the mansion's eaves, previously shrouded in black mist, seemed to be wiped clean by an invisible hand. Three faintly discernible characters emerged:

*Demon-Suppression Bureau.*

Boom!

The night was filled with thunder and lightning. The twin brothers, certain they were doomed, waited in despair for their inevitable end. Yet, the night passed without incident, and they survived until dawn.

As the storm subsided, the sky cleared, and a red glow heralded the sunrise. It seemed like a rare, beautiful day was ahead.

The brothers sat back-to-back, their eyes bloodshot.

"Brother—"

"No Salvation" called out, his voice hoarse from screaming throughout the night.

"Do you think... the calamity has passed?"

As he spoke, he turned to look at his older brother.

"No Salvation's" face was pale, with dark, swollen bags under his bloodshot eyes. His brother wasn't faring much better—drenched in sweat, his hair disheveled, his lips cracked and peeling. Fear and despair had taken their toll, and overnight, painful sores had broken out on his lips.

"Maybe... maybe it has," the older brother nodded, trying to move his legs. They had gone numb from squatting all night, and now they prickled with pain. But the thought that the disaster might be over brought a glimmer of hope to his eyes.

"We can't stay in the Demon-Suppression Bureau of Wan'an County any longer. The nearby ghost domains are expanding, and the imperial court has probably abandoned this place. We need to find another way out—"

As the brothers discussed their future, a pale hand emerged from under a dirty white cloth on a wooden plank in the center of the room. The cloth was pushed aside, revealing the exhausted, pale face of Zhao Fusheng.

Her face was ashen, and her head throbbed with pain.

As she woke, her eyes were dazed, staring blankly at the large hole in the ceiling. Fragments of the chaotic dreams from the night before flashed through her mind.

Zhao Fusheng felt as though she had slept for an eternity.

She had been overworked recently, her mind constantly on edge, and hadn't had a proper rest in a long time.

Perhaps it was the stress, but despite the long sleep, the quality had been terrible.

She had dreamed strange and bizarre things.

In her dream, her rented apartment had met with an accident. At the brink of death, her soul had crossed into a place called the Great Han Dynasty, possessing a girl who shared her name. This girl had been sold by her parents at a low price to a place called the Demon-Suppression Bureau.

At first, this Zhao Fusheng had been overjoyed. She thought she had found food and clothing, escaping her miserable life.

For some reason, when she first joined the Demon-Suppression Bureau, her luck had turned incredibly good—so good that she would find silver coins on the street and have food delivered to her unexpectedly.

But this good fortune didn't last. As time passed, she realized that her luck always came with a price.

From finding silver coins to occasionally stumbling upon food, each stroke of luck was accompanied by injury.

At first, it was just minor scrapes and falls, but soon it escalated to broken limbs.

Her body began to feel inexplicably cold, and she always felt as though a terrifying presence was lurking around her.

The two brothers who had bought her for the Demon-Suppression Bureau began to look at her strangely. They often whispered to each other, their gazes falling on her as if she were already a dead person.

Zhao Fusheng grew increasingly frightened. Her body ached more and more, her injuries worsening. She was too scared to sleep, feeling the cold presence drawing closer to her back.

She often felt a heavy weight on her shoulders and back, as if she were carrying something invisible.

Amidst this growing terror, bad news arrived—her parents had died in a ghostly calamity.

For some reason, she immediately thought of her recent streak of bizarre misfortune, and the fear only deepened.

On the day her parents' bodies were brought to Wan'an County, Zhao Fusheng was filled with dread. But in the end, she couldn't escape her fate.

That day, sensing something terrible was about to happen, she had been unable to sleep for days. Just as she was trembling with fear, she felt an unnatural chill approach from behind. She turned instinctively—and saw a shadowy figure standing behind her.

Zhao Fusheng's pupils trembled. Before she could scream, the ghostly figure reached out.

A black, ghostly hand pierced through her back, tearing through her chest and abdomen, ripping open her throat and lungs.

In an instant, Zhao Fusheng was disemboweled, her life extinguished.

The last image burned into her memory was of a pale, grayish hand tearing through her throat, blood spraying everywhere.

Zhao Fusheng's pupils contracted. She had been killed by a ghost.

The suffocation and pain of her death lingered in her mind. She belatedly clutched her throat, finally exhaling the breath trapped in her chest.

"It was just a nightmare," she thought with relief, though it felt unsettlingly real.

As her thoughts returned to the present, her eyes gradually cleared. She immediately noticed something strange.

Above her head was not the simple, white-painted ceiling of her rented apartment. Instead, several black wooden beams supported the roof, covered in layers of dusty cobwebs.

Most striking was the large hole, about a meter in diameter, directly above her. Light streamed through, illuminating the floating dust in the air.

A sense of foreboding washed over her. She reached down to feel the surface beneath her.

It wasn't her cheap bed, but a hard, simple wooden plank.

Zhao Fusheng sat up, her eyes falling on a blood-stained white cloth.

To her left and right were two more planks, each covered with similar white cloths. Beneath the cloths, the outlines of human figures were faintly visible.

A strange thought flashed through her mind: Father? Mother?

No! These were the parents of the original Zhao Fusheng. Two days ago, upon hearing of their deaths, the Fan brothers of the Demon-Suppression Bureau had arranged for their bodies to be brought here.

Memories surfaced naturally in her mind:

Because she had been tainted by the supernatural, her entire family had fallen victim to the ghosts, all dying horribly.

"..." Zhao Fusheng's hands trembled, her face growing even paler.

Just then, voices came from outside.

Perhaps thinking there was no one else in the mansion, the two men spoke without lowering their voices.

"Brother," one of them called out. There was a rustling sound as he shifted his body, his voice uneasy. "According to Paper Craftsman Zhang, this ghost trades 'luck' for lives. Once it latches onto someone, it won't leave until it has drained the entire family's fortune, leaving them all dead."

"The Demon-Suppression Bureau is the best example. Almost everyone here has died because of this ghost."

After diverting the calamity to Zhao Fusheng's family, they too had quickly met their demise. "But last night, nothing happened to us. Does that mean the disaster is over? Are we free from its grasp?"

Fan Wujiu!

The name suddenly popped into Zhao Fusheng's mind. The face of a young man flashed before her eyes, and she was shocked to realize that she recognized him, as if they had known each other before.

As she was reeling from this realization, another male voice spoke:

"Logically, once a ghost has killed, unless someone else triggers its rules, we should be free from its curse."

"After all, the lantern went out last night, and we're still alive—"

The two brothers had unique constitutions, and being part of the Demon-Suppression Bureau, they had their own ways of determining whether they were haunted.

The man was certain that no ghost was attached to them, which meant Paper Craftsman Zhang's method had worked.

As he spoke, another name surfaced in Zhao Fusheng's mind: Fan Bishen.

They were twin brothers, envoys of the Demon-Suppression Bureau. They had bought Zhao Fusheng from her family for five copper coins and brought her to the bureau.

The Great Han Dynasty, the Demon-Suppression Bureau, the Fan brothers, and the bodies of Zhao Fusheng's parents...

"..." Zhao Fusheng's vision darkened, and she instinctively looked around.

Her gaze fell on the decrepit hall of the Demon-Suppression Bureau. The terrifying shadow from her dream wasn't visible, but her sharp intuition told her that somewhere in the shadows, a pair of cold eyes was watching her every move.

The malice was palpable, sending chills down her spine and making her heart clench.

Outside, the Fan brothers, unaware that she had awakened, continued their discussion:

"If the ghost is gone and the curse on the Demon-Suppression Bureau is lifted, we need to leave this place immediately and find another way to survive."

"The ghost domains around here are growing larger, and ghosts are appearing even in broad daylight."

"Our Demon-Suppression Bureau has been devastated by that ghost. Almost everyone is dead. Staying here is a death sentence. I've heard that the Demon-Suppression Bureau in Baozhi County is doing well. They have a copper general who has tamed a fierce ghost. He's very powerful. We should go there—" Fan Bishen was quick-witted and more level-headed than his impulsive younger brother.

"But we bound our souls with a blood contract back then. The contract hasn't been dissolved. How can we leave Wan'an County..." Fan Wujiu said nervously.

"Idiot," Fan Bishen scolded. "We'll find someone else to take the position of envoy here, then figure out a way to remove our names from the soul registry. That should settle it..."

As the brothers discussed their plans, Zhao Fusheng, who had come back to life in the hall, couldn't believe her situation.

"This can't be! This can't be!"

How could something so absurd happen? She had woken up in someone else's body, her nightmare had come true, and she was now the nominal head of the Demon-Suppression Bureau in Wan'an County under the Great Han Dynasty.

Without a second thought, she threw off the burial cloth, jumped off the wooden plank, and rushed out of the hall.

"Once we—"

Fan Bishen was still speaking when his brother, hearing the noise, turned his head.

In an instant, Fan Wujiu's expression changed from relief to sheer terror, as if he had seen the most horrifying thing in the world. His pupils trembled.

"Gah—gah—"

In his extreme fright, his words became incoherent. His arm hung limply, and goosebumps crawled up his spine to the back of his neck, making his hair stand on end.

"You—" Fan Bishen frowned, about to speak, when Fan Wujiu cried out in a trembling voice:

"Brother, it's... it's a corpse! It's moving—"

"What nonsense are you talking about?" Fan Bishen shouted, but then a familiar voice rang out:

"This can't be... this can't be... how is this possible..."

Zhao Fusheng, barefoot, dashed out of the courtyard and toward the main gate.

"...I..."

Fan Bishen watched her run out, his mind blank, unable to speak.

Zhao Fusheng ignored them. She rushed through the long courtyard and emerged outside the mansion gates.

Before her eyes stretched a dirty, dilapidated street. On either side stood low, shabby huts, many of the shops closed and in disrepair.

The few open shops were mostly coffin or paper money stores, with folded paper figures displayed outside. She scanned the street but saw no living souls.

Perhaps due to the lack of human activity, the entire street exuded an eerie silence.

The scene was both unfamiliar and strangely familiar to Zhao Fusheng.

Her mind buzzed as she clung to one last hope.

Summoning her courage, she looked up at the mansion's eaves.

Two lanterns hung on either side of the roof. Last night's storm had shattered them, revealing the oil lamps inside.

The oil had spilled, and yellow grease dripped from the torn paper, emitting a foul stench.

Between the lanterns hung a black plaque. The dark mist surrounding it had partially dissipated, revealing the faint outline of three characters.

Though the original Zhao Fusheng had been illiterate, she could now make out the words on the plaque:

Demon-Suppression Bureau.

[--------------------------------------------]

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