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"The Battle of Gods and Demons"

  • Genre: Paranormal
  • Author: guye
  • Chapters: 665
  • Status: Completed
  • Age Rating: 18+
  • 👁 417
  • 7.0
  • 💬 0


In the midst of desperation, Joe, a not-so-bright but wealthy second-generation police officer, unexpectedly awakens the power to embody a demon god. This propels him into an adventurous journey through a fantastical and otherworldly realm, where he seeks answers to the mysteries of his existence. Joe, initially an ordinary cop, discovers a unique bloodline during a routine investigation. What's even more astonishing is his acquisition of the all-knowing and all-powerful favor of a god. This revelation sets the stage for Joe's incredible journey of growth. As Joe matures, the enigmas surrounding him gradually unravel. The seemingly foolish protagonist, destined to be nothing more than a wealthy heir, finds out that his parents and even the seemingly ordinary servants are all hidden powerhouses. In this magical and mysterious otherworld, Joe continues to evolve, constantly growing stronger and achieving extraordinary feats with the god's favor. However, Joe's growth is far from smooth. He becomes entangled in a war between gods, facing numerous challenges. In this war, Joe is not just a rich heir but a force capable of changing the world's destiny. Every adventure tests Joe's courage, and every mystery unraveled challenges his intelligence. He journeys forward through the clouds of war, becoming a legendary figure. This is a story filled with magic, adventure, and personal growth—a tale of an ordinary person transforming into a hero in a different world. Readers will immerse themselves in Joe's adventure, exploring the secrets of this mysterious realm alongside him, experiencing the hardships and joys of growth. The narrative unfolds into a captivating saga of a man's journey from obscurity to legendary status.

Chapter 1

MiddeLand in the heart of the continent, a land blessed by the gods, a realm where the brilliance of enlightenment is cast anew. All glory belongs to MiddeLand.

Turlon Harbor, the most prominent jewel on the crown of the Duran Empire, a land flowing with golden rivers and silver streams, yet marred by unfathomable sins.

MiddeLand celebrates its glory on the 15th of August, in the year 1379.

In the evening, at the grand plaza in the new district of Turlon Harbor, joyful crowds gather near the twelve monumental fountain sculptures, aligned along the central axis of the square, where honey and milk flow, a haven blessed by the gods.

As dusk falls and gas lamps illuminate the streets on either side of the grand plaza, a lively assembly forms, with tents resembling mushrooms popping up amid the crowd.

Adorned in splendid attire, men and women emanating the fragrance of perfumes move in and out of tents, wielding beer mugs of various materials—wooden, iron, copper, and even crystal. Each clash of the beer mugs echoes with exuberance, creating billows of frothy beer.




The joyful shouts, like thunder on a summer night, roll through the dense crowd, spreading in all directions.

Outside the tents, on various grills large and small, succulent sausages sizzle, their rich aroma wafting through the air, tempting countless appetites.

At precisely eight o'clock, as the voluptuous countenance of Muthusith, the goddess of the silver moon, ascends the night sky, casting its silvery radiance upon the earth, the bell tower of the Saint Hild Cathedral, the landmark of Turlon Harbor, stands at the north face of the grand plaza. A group of black-robed priests, holding their breath, manipulates the levers, causing twenty-four colossal bronze bells to reverberate, emitting a resounding roar.

The deep, sonorous toll of the bells spreads like a wave through the sea breeze.

"Mid-Autumn Night!"

"Night of Abundance!!"

"Night of the Silver Laurel!!!"

Thunderous cheers erupt from the crowd. On the east, west, and south sides of the Queen's Square, in the buildings facing the plaza, all windows on the side facing the square are forcefully opened. Many young girls, dressed in magnificent gowns, hold small baskets and sprinkle silver laurel leaves and pale silver laurel flowers down below.

The Queen's Square suddenly comes alive.

Clowns in extravagant costumes sway vigorously, playing a variety of instruments amid the crowd. The cheerful music entices young men and women, hand in hand, forming a long procession that dances around the square.

In groups of ten, the Silver Laurel Church's nuns, holding candles, stroll gracefully around the square. Clad in pristine white linen dresses, they bow slightly, walking and chanting hymns praising Muthusith.

Various acrobats in the crowd showcase their skills to the fullest. Flames spew from mouths, wooden balls are tossed, unicycles are ridden on steel wires, and hands produce a plethora of colorful flowers. Some even direct parrots carrying tarot cards, flying low over the crowd.

Children surround these acrobats, screaming and laughing, akin to intoxicated monkeys frolicking about.

Among them, inevitably, are some ragged youngsters, maneuvering discreetly through the crowd. Their waists are bulging, and through tattered clothes, several silk wallets can be seen.

The square's southeast corner, beneath a bronze Victory Column, on a temporary wooden platform, Joe gently taps his protruding beer belly, gazing forlornly at the jubilant crowd.

Last year at this time, Joe was still part of the crowd, clad in festive attire, left hand holding sausages or other delicious foods, right hand raising a beer mug, indulging in revelry, sweating profusely, expending energy recklessly.

Mid-Autumn Night, the birthday of Muthusith, sister of the supreme god Muth, and also the traditional festival of the Duran Empire for praying for a bountiful harvest.

The wild celebration, three consecutive nights of revelry, a night where miracles could happen.

Two years ago, on Mid-Autumn Night, Joe gave away his first kiss.

Last year on Mid-Autumn Night, if not for his family's timely intervention, Joe nearly lost his virginity.

And in the Mid-Autumn Nights before the last two years, for several consecutive years, Joe ended up collapsing drunk on the street, only to be fished out of a heap of inebriated revelers by his family and carried back home.

Each Mid-Autumn Night was so thrilling, unrestrained, like a beautiful dream, immersing people within.

But this year's Mid-Autumn Night.

Joe, looking foolish, stood on the wooden platform. He wore a weighty brass-made high-domed police helmet; his body was clad in thick, airtight black linen police uniform with an inner lining of stab-resistant wire mesh. A thick leather police belt, rigid and unyielding, was tied around his waist, and he sported tall leather boots snugly encasing his entire lower legs.

On the belt, to the left hung a two-foot-long, substantial lead-filled copper baton; to the right hung a one-and-a-half-foot-long, equally weighty short-barreled double-barreled flintlock pistol, filled with ammunition and the muzzle plugged with soft leather. On his back, three pairs of equally heavy, iron-crafted long chain handcuffs dangled!

The blue-white light of the gas lamps illuminated the large swamp wolf shield emblem at the

center of the high-domed police helmet.

"Gorkin, Imperial Army, dressed in a majestic military uniform, parading through the Gran Province armed, has gracefully reclaimed the empire's lost land of over a century."

"Countless passionate maidens throw themselves at them. And Gorkin and his comrades, hypocritically tell these lovely ladies, oh, no, no, we really can't, because of the Empire's military law, we cannot indulge in such activities!"

Joe exhaled and looked around, loosening two buttonholes on his armored belt.

He touched the swamp wolf emblem at the center of the police helmet, sighing with melancholy.

"And me? A freshly minted police black dog, wearing a stupidly innocent dog-head emblem, standing here foolishly, sweating profusely, parched, watching them revel!"

A month and a half ago, at the end of June, with outstanding performance in all subjects and ranked as the top graduate with the highest overall GPA, Joe, endorsed by the dean of the Turlon Harbor Judicial College, proudly joined the Turlon Harbor Police Department.

"For three years, I've diligently been late and left early, skipped classes to fight, consistently engaged in brawls, persistently skipped exams. I even, on the eve of graduation, recklessly set the college office building on fire!"

"And yet, here I am, still an exemplary student, still representing the outstanding graduates of the Judicial College this year!"

Loosening another buttonhole on his armored belt, Joe looked around, secretly removed the flintlock pistol and long chain handcuffs hanging from his belt, placing them on a small square table behind him.

"Is it impressive just because there's money at home?"

"It's too d*mn dark!"

Two shabbily dressed teenagers sneaked over from beside the police sentry post. Their waists were bulging, and through tattered clothes, several silk wallets could be seen.

Joe looked at these two teenagers with a touch of melancholy, sighed, turned his head as if he hadn't seen them.

The two teenagers playfully made faces at Joe, saying, "Hey, a black police dog, look at his silly appearance!"

The teasing of the teenagers was extremely faint, drowned out by the noisy crowd, and the noise was extremely loud.

Yet, Joe's ears twitched, and he clearly heard the laughter and ridicule of the two teenagers.

With a dejected expression, Joe's face quickly reddened. He pulled out the police baton from his waist, like an enraged wild bear, jumped off the wooden platform, and strode toward the two youths whose faces had suddenly changed color.

Chapter 2

"In the name of the law, accursed petty thieves, halt!"

Joe, with a forceful shoulder, knocked down two men whose faces were flushed with drink, wielding a hefty lead-filled police baton. He strode vigorously, amplifying his strength, and bellowed loudly with resonant authority.

His voice resonated so brightly that people half a street away could hear his clamor.

Several policemen, clad in black police uniforms, adorned with grey pith helmets, and carrying oak police batons, emerged from the crowd, whistles dangling from their mouths. They followed Joe closely, chasing down Victory Street, south of Queen's Square.

Turlon Harbor, located in the southern part of the empire, had a humid and hot climate year-round. Compared to the northern territories of the empire, the men in Turlon Harbor and the surrounding thirty-odd provinces were of average height, ranging from five feet four inches to six feet one or two inches, l


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