Both start in hell: but their talents are multiplied a hundredfold.

The world of Strange Tales from a Chinese Studio.

Before the morning mist had dissipated, the sound of the bell from Jinshan Temple shattered the silence of the mountains.

In Liaozhai, Shen Jue sits shirtless on the eaves of the Sutra Pavilion.

As dawn broke, morning dew clung to the skin, condensing into fine droplets that slowly slid down the distinct muscle grooves of the chest and abdomen.

That muscular physique wasn't the result of pampered extravagance, but rather the formidable strength honed through over a decade of martial arts training and struggles in turbulent times; every inch of it held the resilience to have crawled out of the ruins.

It gleamed with a cold, hard luster in the morning light, like black iron that had been repeatedly tempered by time and the sharpness of blades.

Shen Jue raised her hand and wiped her face. The warmth of exchanging memories with many other Shen Jues in the white space still lingered on her fingertips, but the absurdity in her eyes was gone.

All that remains is the lucidity of "Shen Jue from Liaozhai," a lucidity mingled with blood and earth.

At this moment, Shen Jue from Liaozhai has increased his innate abilities by 1900 times.

"Abbot! Abbot!"

The sound of hurried footsteps shattered the tranquility of the library rooftop.

A young monk came running up, panting, and bowed with his hands clasped together. His voice was filled with undisguised urgency and awe: "Lord Zuo Qianhu has arrived. He is waiting in front of the temple and said he has come specifically to visit the abbot."

Shen Jue from Liaozhai glanced down at his bare upper body, showing no sign of panic.

He casually grabbed the plain white robe draped beside him and put it on, his movements as swift as if he were donning a suit of armor.

The hem of his robe swept across his muscular waist and abdomen, concealing the traces of his "human" nature, but unable to hide the wildness that grew from the ruins in his bones.

He stood up, the morning breeze lifting a corner of his robe to reveal the solid, well-defined muscles beneath, like a wicked Buddha draped in Buddhist robes, just emerging from a chaotic world.

"Understood." He spoke, his voice still hoarse from just waking up, but the crudeness and exhilaration of the white space were gone, replaced by the composure and sharpness of the abbot of Jinshan Temple.

"Please wait a moment, this humble monk will go down now."

The young monk responded and quickly withdrew.

Shen Jue from Liaozhai stood atop the Sutra Repository, gazing at the figures faintly visible in front of the temple.

Zuo Qianhu was one of the few people he could call a "good friend" in this chaotic world.

In this world where demons roam and humans and ghosts are indistinguishable, even the word "friend" carries unspeakable dangers.

He raised his hand to straighten his robe, instantly adapting to the terrifying power he had suddenly gained.

In front of the temple, Zuo Qianhu stood tall and straight, dressed in a black outfit with a sword at his waist.

He gazed at Shen Jue from Liaozhai who was walking out of the temple, a subtle, complex emotion flashing in his eyes.

The morning mist clung to his shoulders, but could not conceal the weariness and sharpness hidden deep in his eyes.

"Abbot Shen," Commander Zuo said, his voice low and slightly hoarse, "I apologize for disturbing you."

"You're too kind, Lord Zuo." Shen Jue from Liaozhai clasped his hands together and performed a Buddhist salute with perfect form.

"May I ask what brings you here, sir?"

Zuo Qianhu did not answer immediately.

He gazed at Shen Jue from Liaozhai, his eyes sweeping over the lean and wiry features faintly visible beneath his plain white robe, and then at the clarity in the depths of his eyes that seemed out of step with this era.

After a moment of silence, Commander Zuo slowly spoke: "Abbot Shen, last night I saw a corpse outside the ruins of Lanruo Temple."

Shen Jue's heart stirred slightly in Liaozhai.

Lanruo Temple was the starting point where he realized he was in the world of A Chinese Ghost Story, and it was also a microcosm of this chaotic world where demons roamed and it was difficult to distinguish between humans and ghosts.

"A corpse?" he asked, his voice calm.

"Who is it?"

"He's a scholar." Zuo Qianhu's voice was low and heavy.

"There were no wounds on his body, but it looked as if he had been drained of his life force, and his death was bizarre."

"In his arms, I found an unmailed letter that was addressed to 'National Master of Universal Salvation'."

Shen Jue nodded slightly.

He naturally knew about the salvation of all beings.

The imperial advisor who held grand ceremonies and recruited many disciples was also one of the masterminds behind the chaos of the world, disguised as a giant centipede demon.

"Does Your Excellency believe that this matter is related to the Imperial Advisor?" Shen Jue asked.

Zuo Qianhu did not answer. He stared at Shen Jue from Liaozhai with a deep gaze, as if scrutinizing or confirming.

After a moment, he slowly spoke: "Abbot Shen, we have known each other for many years, and I know you are no ordinary monk."

"Jinshan Temple is no longer an ordinary temple in your hands."

"I have come today not as a commander, but as a friend, to ask you this question: Do you know who is human and who is demon in this chaotic world?"

The morning mist flowed slowly between the two, making the bluestone slabs in front of the temple damp and cold.

Zuo Qianhu's problem was like a blunt knife, dissecting the bloodiest truth of this chaotic world.

Shen Jue did not answer immediately; he looked at the weariness and sharpness deep in Zuo Qianhu's eyes.

"Lord Zuo," he finally spoke, his voice low and deep like a sigh from the depths of ruins, but devoid of any of the compassion and restraint of a Buddhist disciple, instead carrying a bloodthirsty quality.

"This humble monk does not know who is human and who is demon."

He paused, his gaze passing over Zuo Qianhu's shoulder and looking towards the distant, hazy sky, as if he could see again the resentment swirling over the ruins of Lanruo Temple, and the inhuman face behind the Pudu Cihang Grand Ceremony.

"In this chaotic world, demons don robes and preach, while humans and demons wear official robes and wield power." Every word in his voice was like a blood-soaked blade.

"I have been at Jinshan Temple for more than ten years. I have seen evil spirits disguised as monks and kind people who are called demons. I do not know who is human and who is demon."

Zuo Qianhu looked at him, a complex emotion flashing in his eyes.

He didn't speak, but nodded slowly, as if engraving those words into his very bones.

"But this humble monk knows," Shen Jue's voice suddenly rose, carrying a wildness mixed with blood and soil, as if he had crawled out of the ruins.

"In this chaotic world, those who can guard their true selves are human; those who are devoured by desire and fear are demons."

Zuo Qianhu didn't speak, but slowly raised his hand and patted Shen Jue's shoulder heavily and forcefully.

He was a little puzzled; something felt off about the feel of it.

"Abbot Shen," Commander Zuo spoke, his voice low and slightly hoarse, "I, Commander Zuo, will dedicate my life to you, to quell this chaotic world and reshape the universe."

Shen Jue looked at him, at the deep emotion and determination hidden in his eyes.

Looking at the indelible dust and bloodstains on the sword at his waist.

Zuo Qianhu did not come seeking answers; he came to give him strength.

A force that can struggle to survive in this chaotic world where demons roam and humans and ghosts are indistinguishable.

"Lord Zuo," he began, his voice low and savage, carrying a wildness that seemed to have crawled out of the ruins, mixed with blood and dirt, "this humble monk thanks you."

He didn't say anything more.

He knew that some things didn't need to be said; the unspoken understanding between men didn't need to be explained with words.

Zuo Qianhu managed a weak smile on his tired face.