"Quack ......"

In the quiet forest, the dry crow chirps echoed, drifting farther and farther with the wind coming from nowhere......

Countless vines hung hambly on the dry 10,000-year-old trees, drifting to and fro in the cold wind. Like the rope used by the hanged man, it is dense and extremely terrifying as far as the eye can see.

This is an unknown deep mountain forest.

The cries of various insects and beasts echo incessantly here.

Towering ancient trees of different shapes, I don't know how much time they have grown here, and their branches are luxuriant and almost want to cover the sky, revealing an eerie horror.

If you follow the crow's cry and drift into the depths of the forest, you will find that in this boundless forest, there is actually a small wooden house lying quietly.

The wooden houses seem to have been in tatters for centuries, as if a gust of wind would turn to powder and dissipate into the deep forest.

Carefully pushing open the door of the cabin, an old man sat quietly in the dim cabin.

The old man crouched in front of the desk, wearing a tattered black cloak, and under the hood, a dead man's face was hidden in the darkness, and there was not a trace of human expression to be seen.

The old man sat on a chair made of dead trees, with branches on it, but he did not have any expression of discomfort.

In front of him was a rough wooden table, unpolished and covered with barbs.

On the wooden table lies a worn-out notebook, next to which a brush is randomly placed, made of unknown materials, as if it will be broken in the next second.

There was no light in the room, but the handwriting on the dark cover shone with a strange blood-red glow.

The old man was like a sculpture, motionless, as if he had lost his breath of life.

The thick dust on the cloak also showed that the old man seemed to have not moved an inch in a long time.

Finally, the crow's voice came in with the wind, and the old man's shoulders moved slightly, as if he was alarmed.

I saw that he slowly raised his head, and a strange light flashed in his deep eyes.

The old man lowered his eyebrows and looked at the dilapidated handwriting on the table.

I saw that on the cover of the notebook, a few blood-red characters were crookedly engraved: Strange Notes.

The old man was speechless, but slowly raised his withered hand and turned the first page of the notebook.

Then he lifted the brush that seemed to be about to break at any time, and slowly wrote down two vigorous and powerful ancient characters: human chrysalis.

However, there was not a drop of ink on the nib of the pen throughout......

From this moment on, the gears of fate began to turn......