Zachary Brooks didn’t even turn his head and said, “Then you can forget about ever getting out of the fog.”

The forest floor was like a giant conveyor belt, carrying the two of them through the maze-like thick mist, brushing past countless plants, sending them toward an unknown world. Just as Dylan Foster was getting dizzy from all the swaying trees, the ground finally stilled. Zachary Brooks said, “We’re here.”

The dense fog cleared. Dylan Foster squinted, tilting his head back to look at the magnificent building before him. After a long moment, he slowly exhaled a puff of minty white smoke and let out an admiring sigh, “Impressive!”

The building soared into the clouds, with two rows of guards standing in perfect formation outside. Under the national emblem above the main entrance hung a plaque reading “National Bureau of Abnormal Phenomena and Special Species Management and Control.” The ground was paved with white marble tiles, upon which a vivid golden dragon was painted. As the two of them stepped inside, the golden dragon on the tiles suddenly began to move, the stone floor trembling slightly. Then, a distant and solemn dragon’s roar echoed, golden scales flashing as the majestic dragon gracefully swam away from beneath their feet, clearing a path.

The entrance hall resembled an airport. From left to right, there were ten sections labeled “A” through “J”—who knew what business was handled in each, but there were lines everywhere. In the center of the hall stood a withered tree, its trunk easily a hundred meters in diameter, entwined with dead vines, piercing straight through a roof so high it was out of sight. The visual impact was so overwhelming, it almost seemed divine.

This was the legendary “Abnormal Control Bureau,” one of the mysterious “relevant departments,” responsible for identifying, monitoring, and handling all sorts of unnatural events. Things like “vampire bats entering the country,” “mysterious whirlpools appearing in city rivers,” or “three-headed water monster incidents”—all fell under their jurisdiction.

Dylan Foster clicked his tongue. “If I’d known there was an office environment like this, I would’ve happily let the organization recruit me ages ago. Why didn’t you say so sooner?”

“Who was it that said they were a free spirit, wild and untamable?” Zachary Brooks tossed him a work badge over his shoulder. “Nine hundred and ninety-sixth floor. Go up yourself.”

“I love freedom, but I love a permanent residence permit and a government job in Yong’an even more.” Dylan Foster caught it with crossed arms. Under the photo on his new work ID, his name and position were written—“Dylan Foster, Aftermath Division, Operations Lead.” He kissed the badge. “Hey, does this mean I’m a cadre now? Can I buy a house in Yong’an?”

“Don’t worry, you won’t be sleeping under a bridge,” Zachary Brooks said, pulling out his constantly vibrating phone from his pocket. He glanced at the caller, hung up without answering. “Security Department’s Old Morgan—he’s called me eight hundred times already. Are you sure you want to join the Aftermath Division? Do you even know what they do?”

“I know. The Security Department’s field agents fight all sorts of monsters and demons, while our Aftermath Division is in charge of cheering them on and handling the aftermath—collecting bodies, quelling rumors, paying compensation, and promoting scientific values.”

“If you know, then why—”

“Director Brooks, your ideological awareness needs improvement. Revolutionary work is all equally important. Without the hard work of us logistics folks, could you field agents work your magic out there?” Dylan Foster cut him off. “Besides, with your Security Department’s field team, eight out of ten have a grudge against me. If I joined, wouldn’t that be like a sheep entering a tiger’s den?”

“More like a weasel in a chicken coop,” Zachary Brooks snorted, then turned serious again. “Why did you suddenly change your mind and agree to join the Bureau?”

Dylan Foster: “I read the omens in the night sky…”

“Speak human.”

“Oh, my mom said it’s hard to find a partner without a government job.”

Zachary Brooks was so exasperated he was practically fuming, and turned to leave.

“Wait! You haven’t told me where the elevator is… Hey!” Dylan Foster, e-cigarette dangling from his lips, watched Director Brooks storm off like a tornado and sighed helplessly. “Such a short fuse.”

According to the results of the sixth national census in 2010 (internal Bureau data), about one in twenty thousand people are “special ability users,” some born that way, others developing abilities later in life.

Why are there such people? The Bureau’s official materials say that during the evolution of modern humans, there was interbreeding with non-human species, leaving behind some special genes. But this theory can’t be verified, since the abilities and attributes of special ability users are all different, almost always unique cases, making it hard to gather enough sample data.

As for the folk explanations, those are much more interesting—legend has it that in ancient times, after a hundred years of war between humans and demons, with generations of blood feuds, the half-demons born of human-demon unions were rejected by both sides, unloved and forced to survive in the cracks. Some of these half-demons, with nowhere else to go, sought refuge under Emperor Wu of Qi. The Emperor used their power to slay the demon king, and, keeping his promise, established the “Qingping Division” to give them a place to belong—the predecessor of the Abnormal Control Bureau.

Of course, this is just a fanciful legend, since the “Qingping Division” disappeared as early as the Yuan dynasty, and the Bureau was only established after the founding of the country for public safety—there’s no real connection.

The vast majority of special ability users, without training, are actually not much different from ordinary people—maybe a bit sharper, with keener senses or intuition, able to run a street stall or do some feng shui readings.

But a small number are exceptionally gifted, and preventing them from becoming a threat to social stability is one of the Bureau’s main responsibilities.