The moment the system's cold, mechanical voice echoed in his mind, a surge of warm energy erupted within Lucian's body.
The invisible shackles that had paralyzed him shattered in an instant.Power flooded his limbs.Golden light burst from his skin, rising like smoke from an unseen fire. A sense of divine presence wrapped around him, ancient and sacred.
The air grew fragrant, like sandalwood incense. His panicked expression faded into calm.In his eyes—galaxies spun backward, shimmering with unfathomable light.
He could feel it.Something vast, something… otherworldly.The crumbling City God shrine around him—once decayed and forgotten—was suddenly bathed in holy light. For a fleeting moment, it looked as it might have in its prime: glorious, divine, untouched by time.
Before Lucian now stood a faceless ghost.
It wore a bloodstained white robe.Its body writhed with malevolent mist.Just moments ago, it had nearly taken his life.
But now, it trembled.
It didn't understand why.The man standing before it was supposed to be ordinary—weak, mortal, prey.
But now…He stood like a god.
And it—this ravenous spirit—felt only terror.
Run.
That was the only thought in its mind.
RUN!
The faceless ghost didn't even dare look at Lucian again. It spun around and bolted, ghostly tendrils trailing like serpents behind it, vanishing into the darkness.
Lucian didn't move. He merely frowned slightly.In his pitch-black pupils, something ancient turned slowly… like celestial gears grinding.
He raised a hand.
From his palm surged a vast, righteous aura—pure and commanding.
He closed his fingers casually, as if pinching a thread from the air.
A simple gesture.
Yet the ghost, already a hundred meters away, froze in place.
Invisible force gripped it like a giant hand.It was dragged back across the earth, fingernails clawing deep trenches into the stone, its body twitching with panic.
It had no face, yet despair clung to its silhouette.
Under the crushing weight of that unseen power, the ghost began to suffocate.It had been dead for years.But it had not felt helplessness like this… in centuries.
Lucian murmured,
"So this is… the Dharma Form of Merit?"
This was a divine construct, forged from pure merit.The power he had just unleashed came from the lingering merit infused into the shrine over generations—a power he could now access.
He rolled his fingers slightly.Like squashing a bug.
With a snap, the ghost's form twisted violently.No scream.No last words.
It dissolved into a wisp of green-black smoke……then vanished.
From the smoke, a golden thread—no thicker than a hair—drifted toward Lucian and merged into his chest.
"Merit…"
As that thread entered his body, he felt his blood boil. His strength surged. His senses sharpened.Even his luck, his very lifespan, felt like they had been rewritten.
The sensation lasted mere seconds—But to Lucian, it was like centuries had passed in the blink of an eye.
[Congratulations, Host. First evil spirit exorcised. You have earned one spin of the reward wheel. Would you like to use it now?]
The system's cold voice snapped him back to reality.
The golden light had faded.The shrine had returned to its withered state.The danger was over.
Lucian took a deep breath. He spoke calmly.
"System, what exactly… are you?"
The system responded with cold majesty:
[This system shall assist the Host in mastering reincarnation, accumulating divine merit, summoning deities of the Netherworld, and rebuilding the Realm of the Dead.]
[Your destiny… is to become the one who rules above all: The Supreme.]
Lucian's eyes flashed.
As a transmigrator…How could he ever accept mediocrity?
To rebuild Hell.To rewrite the laws of death.
With this system, no ghost, no exorcist, no so-called Spirit Tamer would stand above him.
[Host currently holds one lottery spin. Would you like to proceed?]
Lucian raised an eyebrow, then nodded slightly.
"Spin it."
A massive wheel appeared in his mind's eye.It turned with the creaking groan of eternity—As though the six realms of reincarnation themselves shifted at his command.
The needle stopped.
[Congratulations! You have received: Ghost Talisman of the Yin Soldiers.]
[Ghost Talisman: Grants command over 3,000 ghost soldiers from the Legion of the Dead. Once wielded by underworld generals, now yours to command.]
In the real world, a dark golden talisman appeared in Lucian's palm.
Its surface pulsed with killing intent.Crimson stains clung to it—blood, dried and ancient.It exuded the aura of war.
Lucian narrowed his eyes.He raised the talisman slightly—
And the shrine trembled.
A storm of black mist exploded outward.The air chilled. The shadows deepened.
From the gloom came the sound of armor clashing.Clang. Clang. Clang.Chains rattled. Blades sang.
A massive figure emerged from the mist.
It wore ancient bronze armor, draped in ghostly smoke.Chains coiled at its waist.In one hand, it held a wicked blade etched with infernal runes.Behind its helmet, crimson eyes glowed like ghostfire.
The figure stepped forward……and knelt before Lucian.
"Commander of the Legion of the Dead reporting, my lord!"
And then—Dozens.Hundreds.Thousands of crimson eyes lit up behind him.
But none dared step forward.Only the commander was permitted to kneel before the summoner.
Lucian stood in silence, his robes fluttering in the ethereal wind.He looked down at his soldiers, power radiating from every inch of them.
He smiled.
"Now this… feels right."