Dylan Foster used to be... oh no, used to belong to, this kind of "unstable element."

Back when Director Brooks was still a rookie field agent, there was a time he went with his team to arrest a group of illegally immigrated vampire bats. Lacking experience, he got trapped by the bats in a cold storage room and almost froze into a popsicle.

Dylan Foster, having just finished strolling the night market in slippers, happened to pass by, sat nearby to watch for a while, happily finished two kilos of crayfish, and then casually set a fire, making a dish of braised bat... In the process, he even singed off half of Captain Brooks's eyebrow. From then on, he formed an inextricable, ill-fated bond with the Bureau of Anomaly Control.

Dylan Foster's resume looks squeaky clean—a third-tier small city background, a well-off family, got into college in Yong'an, stayed to work after graduation, not ambitious at work, generous despite being broke, has a bunch of rowdy friends, single, always broke by month's end.

Nothing more could be found.

This mysterious folk expert is undisciplined and unorganized, and not very reliable as a person. Sometimes he helps, sometimes he makes things worse. The entire Security Department of the Bureau of Anomaly Control has a love-hate relationship with him.

Finally, at the retirement farewell dinner for the old director this year, the old director personally invited him for a drink, then teamed up with his successor Director Harris to set him up. Dylan Foster lost a bet and was "forced" to accept the Bureau's "recruitment"... though Zachary Brooks always felt he lost on purpose.

The newly appointed Director Foster asked around for the elevator location and went up alone to the 996th floor.

The corridor on the 996th floor was very quiet. One end was the meeting room and activity area, the other was the office area.

Here, it was nearly six kilometers above ground. Outside, it was about minus twenty degrees Celsius, and the windows were all welded shut. Dylan Foster poked his head out for a look—outside, clouds and mist swirled, the building's protective array glimmered with spiritual light, faintly visible among the clouds, not at all like the human world.

He gently touched the index finger of his left hand. On that finger was an invisible ring, only appearing upon contact. The ring face was a blood-red stone, flawless, but unfortunately, a crack ran through the middle, making the gem look dull and lifeless.

"Humans... really are remarkable, aren't they?" Dylan Foster gently rubbed the ring face with his fingertip, his gaze sweeping over the crack, frowning again. "But what exactly are you trying to tell me?"

This ring was said to be a sacred relic of his clan, passed down to him for ten years, always safe and sound. But just recently, the ring face suddenly cracked for no reason.

At that moment, he received a message from Zachary Brooks on his phone—three in a row, buzzing.

"Found the place yet?"

"Get to know your department members quickly, there's an urgent mission soon!"

"Move!!"

Dylan Foster: "..."

Old Xiao isn't just a human tornado—even his WeChat messages are suffocating. Truly a talent.

"Before I came, you lied to me, saying the Aftermath Division was a marginal group, invisible, just eating and not working. But before I even report in, there's already a mission." Dylan Foster dragged his feet lazily toward the office area, ready to meet his future underlings, and sent a voice message back to Director Brooks: "Big pig's trotter."

"On my way!"

Before he could even knock, he heard a howl from inside the office. The office doors were suddenly yanked open from both sides, and a group of men and women, young and old, dressed like a mafia gang, stood in the doorway, flashing eight big white teeth in unison, clapping enthusiastically. A middle-aged lady with a head full of curls shouted, "One, two!" and the rest clapped and howled in chorus, "Welcome, welcome, a warm welcome! Welcome, new leader, to our big family!"

Dylan Foster's raised hand froze awkwardly on his chest, stunned by this grand welcoming scene.

"Sorry to bother you, wrong door." He turned to leave, planning to go downstairs to the Security Department to see if they were still hiring.

Chapter 3

Dylan Foster hadn't even managed to escape back to the elevator and start over before he was blocked head-on by Director Brooks.

Ten minutes later, he was forced onto the stage, bringing along a few "new underlings" of indeterminate breed, and headed to the Bureau's helipad.

"Urgent matter," Zachary Brooks shoved a folder into his arms without discussion. "If you want to quit, do it later. Even as a temp, you have to finish this job for me. There's no such thing as a small matter in Chiyuan—not a single mistake allowed."

Dylan Foster was about to crack a joke, but at the mention of "Chiyuan," he froze, immediately turning serious. "What happened?"

Chiyuan—this place is extremely special. So special that even the slightest disturbance there makes the entire Bureau of Anomaly Control shudder.

Nowadays, when most people mention "Chiyuan Grand Canyon," they think of that "5A" scenic spot. But in reality, the tourist area is just a tiny part of the periphery; the true primeval forest remains undeveloped.

The environment there is extremely complex. Some say it's an ancient battlefield, others say it's an ancient burial ground.

Historical records state that Chiyuan once "split the earth for a thousand miles, karmic fire flowed rampant, and for dozens of miles on both banks, not a blade of grass grew." Modern historians generally consider this a figure of speech, describing the ferocity of the war that once took place there, with bloodshed like the legendary "karmic fire."

But those who know the truth understand that this description is likely real.

Deep within Chiyuan, there is not only the tomb of Emperor Qi Wu.