Lord of the Mysteries:Voice of the Stars

On the night of June 27, 1349, in the Fifth Epoch, the city of Tingen in the Loen Kingdom remained as ordinary as ever.

The crimson moonlight illuminated the streets without streetlights, and the cool night breeze provided the walking pedestrians with the most basic comfort.

At the location of the Church of the God of Steam and Machinery in Tingen City, Ail stood fearlessly atop the mechanical holy emblem on the rooftop, gazing toward a particular place in the city.

It was an old row house, situated on a narrow street where dirty water flowed, and debris was scattered haphazardly.

Adjusting his monocle slightly, mysterious runes in Ail's eyes lit up. His gaze pierced through the apartment walls, entering a certain room on the third floor, where he saw a young man collapsed on a desk, blood streaming from his head.

"Judging by the timing, Zhou Mingrui should be born soon, and the evernight goddess's gaze will also be cast here. Staying any longer might attract its attention...

It's better to make some preparations. Although it's a bit risky, I can't afford to miss the birth of Zhou Mingrui."

With that thought, Ail's entire figure vanished instantly, entering the interstice that connected multiple worlds. Here, only gods who controlled the relevant authorities could perceive him and track his movements.

And evidently, the evernight goddess did not possess such authority—or if it did, it was not a primary domain.

—

Pain! So painful! My head hurts so much!

A bizarre and chaotic dream filled with murmurs shattered rapidly. Zhou Mingrui, who had fallen asleep early that night, felt an intense throbbing pain in his head, as if someone had smashed a brick against it.

The severe pain made him instinctively want to turn over and sit up to check what was wrong with him. However, to his horror, he found that he was completely unable to move his limbs—his body seemed to have lost all control.

"It seems I haven't truly woken up yet—I'm still in a dream... Maybe I'll even experience the illusion of waking up, only to still be asleep. Is this sleep paralysis?"

Having experienced something similar before, Zhou Mingrui struggled to focus his will, trying to break free from the shackles of darkness and illusion.

However, in the half-dreaming, half-awake state, his thoughts drifted like mist—difficult to control, difficult to gather. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't help but let his mind wander, filling with distractions.

"Damn it, I only drank a few more beers. I was perfectly fine when I lay down, so why does my head suddenly hurt this much? And so intensely!"

"Could it be a brain hemorrhage or something? But I was only drinking beer—how could it have such a strong aftereffect?"

"Shit, am I about to die young just like this?"

"Wake up! Wake up, damn it!"

Wave after wave of sharp pain accumulated into a phantom force, and finally, Zhou Mingrui summoned all his strength, arched his back, and opened his eyes, completely shaking off the half-awake state.

Struggling to stand up from the chair, Zhou Mingrui took a few deep breaths as his blurry vision gradually cleared.

As far as his eyes could see, in front of him was a wooden desk of natural color. In the very center lay an open notebook. The paper was rough and yellowed, with a line of strange letters written in deep black ink, eye-catching and vivid.

To the left of the notebook, near the edge of the desk, was a neatly stacked pile of books—about seven or eight of them. On the wall to their right, embedded gray-white pipes connected to a wall-mounted lamp.

The lamp had a distinctly Western classical style, roughly the size of half an adult's head. The inner layer was made of transparent glass, while the exterior was encased in a black metal grid.

Beneath the extinguished lamp, a black ink bottle emitted a faint reddish glow, its embossed surface forming a blurry angelic pattern.

Before the ink bottle, to the right of the notebook, a deep-colored fountain pen with a smooth, rounded body lay quietly. The pen tip shimmered faintly, and the pen cap rested beside a revolver with a brass sheen.

A gun? A revolver?!

Zhou Mingrui was completely stunned. The objects before him were utterly unfamiliar—there was nothing here that resembled his own room!

As shock and confusion overwhelmed him, he noticed that everything on the desk—the notebook, ink bottle, revolver—was draped in a layer of crimson "gauze," illuminated by the light streaming in from the window.

"It doesn't seem to hurt as much as before… but my head still feels like a dull knife is slowly cutting through it…"

"Is this some kind of reality show prank? Did Lao Shi and Lao Lu set this up for me? Is that why they forced me to drink so much today?"

Just as he reached out to rub his throbbing forehead, Zhou Mingrui suddenly froze.

His gaze had drifted toward the night sky through the window. In his astonished eyes, high above the black "velvet curtain," a crimson full moon hung in the sky, casting a tranquil glow.

"A red moon? How is that possible?!"

A surge of inexplicable fear rushed through his heart. His legs, barely straightened after standing up, suddenly lost their strength as another wave of searing pain shot through his head. His body lost balance, and he collapsed back onto the wooden chair with a heavy thud!

"Pa!"

Forcing himself to ignore the pain in his backside, Zhou Mingrui pressed his hands against the desk and pushed himself upright once more. In a state of panic, he turned his body around, finally taking a serious look at his surroundings.

It was a small room, with a brown door on each side. Against the far wall stood a wooden bunk bed.

Next to the left door was a cabinet, its upper half split into two doors, while the lower half had five drawers.

At about the height of a person, gray-white pipes embedded in the wall extended into a strange mechanical device, with a few exposed gears and bearings.

In the right corner near the desk, there was an object resembling a coal stove, along with a soup pot, an iron pan, and other kitchen utensils.

Beyond the right door was a cracked full-body mirror with two visible fractures. Its wooden base had a simple and unadorned design.

As Zhou Mingrui's gaze landed on the mirror, his mouth slightly parted, and his pupils shrank sharply.

Under the crimson moonlight, he saw his reflection.

Black hair, brown eyes, a linen shirt, a thin physique, ordinary facial features with deep contours—radiating a strong scholarly air.

It was just like how he looked in the past, when he was still in university, before he had stepped into society…

"What the hell is this?! Is this me? Why do I look so young?!"

Zhou Mingrui sucked in a sharp breath, momentarily disregarding global warming's impact on the environment. His mind surged with a flurry of helpless and chaotic thoughts.

The revolver on the desk, the room with its European classical style, his rejuvenation, his altered appearance, and that crimson moon—they all pointed to a single conclusion!

"I've transmigrated?! Just from going to sleep and having a headache? No, this must still be a dream! I remember reading online about people experiencing dreams within dreams—this has to be one of those!"

Zhou Mingrui's mouth slowly opened wider, struggling to process the surreal situation. As someone who had grown up reading web novels and often fantasized about such scenarios, he found himself unable to accept it now that it was truly happening.

After several seconds, he dismissed the idea that he was still dreaming.

His headache was still there—his perception of the external world remained vivid and painfully real. It was nothing like a dream.

"Stay calm. Stay calm. Stay calm..."

Taking deep breaths, Zhou Mingrui forced himself to maintain composure—or at the very least, appear composed.