Your Account Has Logged In to Another World (Seeking Follow-ups)

New Calendar Year 163, Frostfall Month.

Faruk Kingdom, Noah Province, Zack Town, Rhine City.

The temporary holding cell of the Patrol Squad was cramped and stifling; green and charcoal-gray mold patches crawled across half the walls, and a thick layer of dust coated the floor.

The door to the room was a black iron grate secured by a chain, both items covered in layers of rust.

Kraun curled up in a corner of the room, pondering a philosophical conundrum that had plagued humanity for ages.

Who am I? Where did I come from? Where am I going?

The roar of a steam engine drifted from afar, and the air in his nostrils was thick with the stench of mold and stale urine. Everything here served as a reminder that he had arrived in an unfamiliar world.

He did not belong to this world—or at least, he hadn't as of yesterday!

In his previous life, he was just an unremarkable, run-of-the-mill code monkey. Outside of his busy work schedule, he only enjoyed staying home to play games, read novels, and watch movies.

Who could have guessed that while working overtime last night to revise a client's new requirements, he would suddenly feel a sharp pain in his chest and black out?

When he woke up this morning, he had already transmigrated, borrowing this corpse to return to life and replacing this young man named Kraun.

"Time to eat," a fat patrolman with a bushy beard and a fleshy face placed a wooden tray at the doorway and gave the chain a hard shake.

The harsh sound of metal clashing pulled Kraun's thoughts back to reality, and a wave of hunger surged through him like a tide.

He steadied himself against the wall and stood up, stumbling toward the door.

The tray was covered in black spots, its original texture barely discernible.

On it sat a piece of black bread and a cup of clear water; the rim of the clay cup was chipped in several places.

Kraun retrieved the bread and water through the gaps in the grate. He took a small sip of water first, then grabbed the black bread with both hands and shoved it into his mouth.

The black bread was mixed with sawdust, its texture so coarse that he couldn't help but frown, forcing him to gulp down a mouthful of water to swallow it.

"An Evil Spirit possession case occurred in a nearby village. That widow, once possessed by the Evil Spirit, woke up like a completely different person. She couldn't speak, didn't recognize her neighbors, and after the villagers spotted the red flags, the Captain and the priest went over to screen and handle it."

Evil Spirit? What the hell was that?

His chewing slowed. He looked up, only to find the patrolman staring directly into his eyes, a scrutinizing gaze that seemed to want to pierce through to his very soul.

Fragments of memory surged forth from unknown corners of his mind, and he felt as though he had rapidly lived through another person's entire life.

Kraun: "."

I just transmigrated and I'm already being caught for acting suspicious? Damn it!

This world looked remarkably like Europe during the Victorian era of his past life; steam engines were widely used, and on the surface, everything appeared to be thriving.

But years ago, after a bizarre celestial phenomenon where a Red Moon hung in the sky and vied with the sun for brilliance, the world underwent a strange transformation.

The night became a playground for monsters. Formless, intangible Evil Spirits poured out from unknown, dark corners, and demons hiding among the populace revealed their true forms to hunt for food.

Every night, some people would die mysteriously—either without a single wound on their bodies, or found decapitated with their internal organs hollowed out.

Others would simply vanish into thin air, or their personalities would shift so drastically that their own neighbors wouldn't recognize them.

These inexplicable occurrences were all classified as paranormal events.

Such events were not rare in the Kingdom; in fact, they were trending upward, leading the government to establish agencies specifically tasked with handling these cases.

The neighborhood where his predecessor lived, Skunk Street, had been struck by an Evil Spirit incident last night. Out of his entire family and all the neighbors, he was the only survivor.

When he was discovered, he was still in a daze from the transmigration, unable to answer any questions posed to him—which was exactly why he ended up in the Patrol Squad's holding cell.

Zack Town was only a large town and lacked a branch of the agency that handled paranormal events; only the local church priest was in charge. Otherwise, he might have already been judged and finished.

"No matter how powerful an Evil Spirit is, it's easy to deal with in the first few days after it possesses a human. A bit of fire does the trick, wouldn't you agree?"

The fat patrolman stroked his beard, speaking with an air of ease.

Another memory surfaced in Kraun's mind: dealing with an Evil Spirit possession really was just a matter of fire. He had even watched such a thing happen once before.

He absolutely could not let anyone discover that this body had changed owners! Otherwise, the "onlooker" would end up being the one "looked at."

Kraun forced a smile onto his stiff face: "My head is spinning. I don't know why, but I have no memory of last night."

Having just integrated the strange memories, he could stutter out a few sentences in the local language.

A meaningful smile hung on the fat patrolman's face. He raised an eyebrow and said, "Just can't remember last night? What's my name?"

Kraun searched his memories desperately. He felt the patrolman's name on the tip of his tongue, but he couldn't get it out.

"It seems there are no true survivors of this Evil Spirit incident. Enjoy your last supper!"

The patrolman shook his head in pity and turned to leave.

You son of a bitch, at least give me some time to think!

Kraun stood up abruptly, gripping the grate tightly, but the man's name became even more elusive.

Judging by the patrolman's tone, they were supposed to be acquaintances.

I have to say something.

Kraun suddenly recalled a hazy image: he had once handed several pink test tubes to this patrolman!

His predecessor's father was an herbalist who had mastered the manufacture of certain medicines, and that time, his father had sent him to deliver goods to the patrolman.

"The shipment delivered recently was manufactured by me. The results were alright, weren't they?" Klaun Moya shouted out.

Seeing the patrolman turn his head abruptly, he felt a bit more composed and continued, "I must have suffered some kind of intense trauma, but I'm much better now, and my memories are slowly returning."

There was no other way; he had to stall for time. At the very least, he couldn't let the other party conclude that his soul had been replaced.

"You had better hope your memory recovers quickly. Tomorrow, when the priest finishes dealing with the person possessed by the Evil Spirit and returns, he will conduct a screening on you."

The patrolman gave him a deep look before turning and walking away once more.

What should I do now? I don't want to be burned to death!

Klaun seemed to lose all his strength, collapsing to the ground, his eyes losing their focus.

Suddenly, a translucent Golden Wall appeared before his eyes, with a few lines of gray text on it—familiar Simplified Chinese characters.

[Faruk Language: 376/1000; Tier 1] (You do not remember much of this language; you can only speak a few common words.)

[Herbalism: 392/1000; Tier 1] (You can recognize some common herbs, and when a blind cat happens upon a dead mouse, you can even concoct potions with mild toxicity.)

[Marksmanship: 106/1000; Tier 1] (You can skillfully pull the trigger, but whether you hit the target is not your concern!)

What the hell!

Klaun reached out his hand instinctively, his palm passing straight through the wall.

The wall was not a physical object; it was merely an image occupying his retina.

A transmigrator's welfare, a golden finger, has arrived? Haha, how wonderful!

Klaun quickly accepted the existence of the Golden Wall. As a reader of web novels, wasn't it perfectly normal to have a golden finger after transmigrating?

As for whether there was a mastermind behind the scenes or if he was just a lab rat, he didn't care at all!

Even if there were a mastermind, they would wait until he, this leek, grew bigger and greener before coming to harvest him.

Surviving first—not being burned to death as someone possessed by an Evil Spirit—was the more urgent matter he faced.

The golden finger was easy to understand; it was just like the skill proficiency in ancient online games. As long as he recited it in his heart, the Golden Wall would appear before his eyes.

He spoke his name in a voice only he could hear: "Klaun Moya."

The number regarding Faruk Language on the wall remained unchanged.

He pondered for a moment, straining his memory, and after thinking of a brand-new word, he recalled its pronunciation, its spelling, and then whispered it aloud.

A miracle occurred; he could feel how to pronounce the word most accurately, how many meanings it had, and the various scenarios in which he had used this word himself...

He summoned the Golden Wall again, and the number on it had already changed.

[Faruk Language: 377/1000; Tier 1]

Diligent practice could increase proficiency and even grant new insights, thereby pushing the improvement of his abilities and even helping to restore his memories.

Klaun's mouth stretched from ear to ear. With a golden finger, what was there to be afraid of!

Unable to speak the language? Don't recognize acquaintances? That wouldn't exist!

Isn't it just a matter of grinding?

As a veteran player who had played the grandfather version of Tanwan Blue Moon and used tens of thousands of Taoist talismans in Bichi City to practice summoning skeletons and divine beasts, Klaun declared that he was full of "grind"!