A Chance Encounter

After gaining a general understanding of the handling methods, I did not inquire further about the Main God.

This figure, surrounded by a hazy aura, so indistinct that even radio waves couldn't detect its presence, moved swiftly and silently, like a free-flying bird, passing through a height that would be difficult for an ordinary person to notice even if they looked up.

When someone finally gets a break from work and suddenly encounters work-related issues, it's like receiving a sudden WeChat message from the company during a holiday, which naturally makes one feel somewhat annoyed.

Li Yun was no exception.

The invisible spirit surged like the tide, creating a vast "wave" that swept across the long space. This figure, as thin as a fallen leaf, was merely taking a stroll in the night to clear his mind.

But then again, what exactly do people see when they stand on high ground, looking down at the brightly lit streets and bustling traffic below?

Li Yun couldn't quite explain it; he just genuinely sensed a slight "difference."

Under the cover of night, compared to those regions still shrouded in the natural darkness of millions of years, the urban areas, where human activity is thriving, appear far more vibrant, with half of the sky illuminated by lights in a pale orange-red hue.

Humans are naturally afraid of the dark and yearn for the light.

The lights gradually dim as you move outwards from the center area.

The narrow alley is squeezed between buildings, with large chunks of gray and bloated plaster peeling off the walls on both sides, revealing the dusty cement underneath.

A few old power lines dangled from the eaves, hanging loosely in mid-air. Occasionally, a few night birds would land on them, hop around, and fly away, their chirping only making the place seem even quieter.

To be honest, even in seemingly bustling cities where land is incredibly valuable, not everything is glamorous and dazzling.

Even the lights in the night seemed to dim incongruously when they fell on this large area, which was rather "poor and backward".

Urban villages are places that are often remnants of the past left behind in the process of urban "growth".

In recent years, many people from the countryside have flocked to the city. Buildings are getting taller and taller, and land is becoming more and more expensive. But there has to be a place that migrant workers and recent graduates can afford to live in, a place to rest and relax.

And so these alleyways and villages hidden behind the bustling city gradually grew into their current chaotic form.

The landlords, or perhaps not even landlords, were simply early arrivals who built makeshift lofts nearby, dividing up small rooms. Though cramped, a lamp and a bed were enough to provide shelter from the wind and rain.

It's better than nothing, right?

The shacks gradually turned into clusters of makeshift houses, which then took shape and became "villages." These villages were then swallowed up by urbanization, becoming urban blight.

Many people who passed by later probably thought that this place would be demolished sooner or later and turned into another bright shopping mall or apartment building. As a result, quite a few of them also "invested" in building houses and adding floors here.

Like grass sprouting from a crack in the wall, a little this year, a clump next year, silently taking root in the cracks of this city.

So, some people also temporarily settled down, silently stopping on the roof of an unfinished four- or five-story building.

There's really nothing to see here. It's just a bare concrete floor with a few clumps of wild grass sprouting from the cracks, swaying listlessly in the wind. In the corner, there's a pile of broken bricks that someone probably threw there, along with a few empty plastic buckets filled with rainwater, all murky and dirty.

Nothing special.

----Apart from a shadowy figure at the base of the wall.

An old man huddled against the wall on the leeward side, wearing an old jacket covered in dirt, a faded blue-gray color that looked particularly large on him.

Well, to be more precise, he was just too thin. His face looked like nothing but loose skin covering his bones, and his wrinkles were very deep.

He must be in his seventies or eighties by now.

The old man seemed to have difficulty even sitting, with most of his weight resting on the rough wall behind him.

But anyone who has ever slept in a corner knows that a wall can't actually be warmed by body heat.

There was a plastic bottle that had once contained a bottle of nutritional drink at my feet, with about half a bottle of water left, and a crumpled plastic bag, which was deflated and probably contained some odds and ends.

The uninvited guest quietly watched the old man sitting against the wall, his eyes closed and coughing softly. He didn't rush to speak, but simply observed how the old man's thin shoulders trembled with each breath.

"Grandpa, it's so late, aren't you going home?"

Someone spoke very softly and made no attempt to approach further.

The old man shuddered and slowly opened his eyes. He saw a ghostly figure standing a few steps away, completely devoid of any human features, except for a few traces of human presence in its dark blue eyes.

He seemed to be having a lot of difficulty opening his mouth.

"Am I... cough, dead?... cough cough, are you here to take my soul... cough..."

As soon as he opened his mouth, he couldn't help but cough violently, unable to even speak a coherent sentence.

The dark figure remained silent for a few moments.

"Not yet, old man, you're just dying."

Without any visible movement from the shadowy figure surrounded by dark clouds, who seemed to be standing amidst rolling black clouds, the old man simply touched his forehead lightly. Suddenly, the old man's complexion began to recover somewhat, and his eyes seemed to clear up a bit.

"Oh----I'm not dead yet----"

Only when he touched the plastic bottle beside him and glanced at it did the frail old man finally realize, "It seems he's not dead—"

"It hasn't happened yet, but it won't be long—"

"Some of your neural perception has been shut down, your body's bioelectricity has been amplified, and some internal organ functions have been temporarily activated. In old terms, this is what we would call a 'last gasp before death'—"

The dark figure, devoid of any warmth or scent, stood before him, as if the boundless darkness of night had descended along with it, subtly shrouding the hunched, tree-root-like body by the wall.

But for some reason, it gave me a feeling of warmth.

"You still have the ability to move around and can walk all the way home. Do you remember where your home is?"

The sound was not very varied, it simply raised a question.

"No, no—the old man can't walk anymore."

I no longer felt the urge to cough, my breathing became smooth, and even the wall behind me seemed less cold.

The old man struggled to sit up a little straighter, a smile spreading across his face like a rotting orange peel. "I slipped out on my own, why would I go back?"

"We can't let someone die at home. A house that's been used to send off someone is even less valuable."

He hasn't said anything in detail yet, but it's as if he's said everything.

The "shadow" glanced at the half-eaten strip of painkillers in the plastic bag and paused again.

There was no further persuasion, only a brief reminder.

"If you stay here, you won't even have anyone to take care of your affairs after you die."

Hearing this, the old man paused for a moment, then said, "It's alright, I know—"

"This... this underworld official, after I go down there, will I still be able to see my wife and eldest son? They both passed away a few years ago, and I miss them a bit..."

Seeing that the person in front of him might be a ghost from the Underworld and didn't respond, the old man seemed to understand something, and the spirit in his eyes dimmed a bit in the blink of an eye.

Is there anything you want to say to your family?

After a moment of silence, the shadowy figure spoke first, asking a question.

"----Hey, there's not much to say. Just tell my younger son that if he's still looking for me, he shouldn't worry about me anymore."

The elderly man, who was becoming increasingly lucid, still appeared nonchalant on the surface, but there were already traces of moisture in the corners of his eyes.

He was so exhausted that he could barely shed any more tears.

"Yes, I already know the address. I'll pass on a message for you."

The "shadow" nodded, though the gesture would have been barely noticeable if it weren't for the movement of its blue eyes, which should have been on its face.

Thanks. My home address is in the military area.

Even though the other party had offered to know the address, the old man still muttered the address two or three times, as if he had just finished speaking. Only then did he seem to breathe a sigh of relief, as if he had accomplished something important.

With this moment of relaxation, the thin figure in the corner began to feel drowsy.

"Thank you, but I'm tired—I'm so tired. Let me sleep a little longer before dawn."

Like a dam bursting, the "shadow" remained silent, watching helplessly as the light in those murky pupils quickly dimmed until it finally could no longer hold on and sank heavily to the ground.

In his dark blue eyes, a bluish-purple mark appeared, like a flash of lightning, but ultimately vanished, transforming into a few imperceptible fluctuations.

It was as if something unseen and intangible was subtly beginning to move.

In the distant darkness of the night, a muffled rumble of thunder suddenly echoed from afar!

The sight startled many pedestrians on the bustling street, who looked up in surprise, but surprisingly, they couldn't see any lightning for a long time.

The sound coming from the rooftop, however, remained seemingly flat and even.

"----Mmm, sweet dreams."