104: Chapter 104 Lao Tzu Doesn't Read the Orders, He Only Looks Through Old Accounts

Chen Fan's knees slammed heavily onto the damp brick floor, the light from his fire starter casting a bloody shadow across the wall.

As Little Candle's hand slipped from his palm, he heard his own heartbeat drown out the sound of the wind in the ventilation duct—until the firelight illuminated the blood-written words covering the wall, and the sound suddenly caught in his throat.

"The names of Purifiers shall be carved into the first level of Hell." "They say forgetting is mercy, but I want to remember you." "The next one is Chen Fan."

The brushstrokes of the final line trembled violently, as if someone's wrist had been gripped while they were forced to carve it in.

Chen Fan reached out and touched it; dark red debris still clung to the brick crevices, and a musty smell wafted into his nostrils.

Little Candle huddled in the corner, clutching a crumpled half-page of records in her arms: "The Broken Pen Official... they said he was a traitor, that he falsified the archives.

But I hid behind the pillars every night to watch. Even after his lamp oil burned dry, he was still writing, and everything he wrote was 'Chen Fan'."

Chen Fan's fingers suddenly froze.

He recognized that handwriting—the crooked horizontal folds and hooks looked exactly like the way he used to struggle to distinguish whether the last dot of the character 'Fan' was a press or a flick while recording work hours at the construction site.

With a *patter*, the half-page 'Mother's Death Record' fell to the ground.

When Chen Fan crouched down to pick it up, extremely fine ink marks appeared on the back of the paper under the firelight—tiny characters poked out with a needle tip: "Purifier Project · Candidate Pool · Activation Condition: Root Critical Hit."

His molars ground together until they ached.

From the first mission's critical hit doubling in the Newbie Village to the system's experience points skyrocketing with every level-up as if someone were pushing him—it wasn't luck. The system was 'force-ripening' him.

He suddenly remembered the names that had sprayed out in a blood mist when the Infant Core cracked; those floating characters were actually marked 'vessels'.

*Buzz—*

The critical hit system vibrated gently against his spine, like someone plucking a lute string with a fingernail.

Chen Fan snapped his head up. From deep within the ventilation duct came the faint, indistinct sound of chanting, mixed with the scorched smell of burning paper ash.

Little Candle grabbed his hem: "It's the Ash-Tongue Monk... he chants names every night. Once he finishes, paper ash starts floating up."

The door to the Name Burning Hall was slightly ajar, with an eerie blue light leaking through the crack.

Chen Fan shielded Little Candle behind him. As he squeezed in against the base of the wall, the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end—on the prayer mat in the center, the Ash-Tongue Monk's robes looked like a mass of black mist. His withered fingers dug into the crevices of the green bricks as muffled syllables rolled from his throat: "Xiao Ma... Blue Ash... Heart Cocoon Wielder..."

With every name he chanted, a wisp of paper ash drifted down from the air.

Chen Fan stared at the falling ashes. His pupils suddenly constricted—they were actually forming a map on the bluestone floor, with an arrow pointing directly to the third level of the secret chamber.

"Do you hear them?" The Ash-Tongue Monk suddenly looked up, his clouded eyes staring directly at Chen Fan's hiding spot. "They are calling you 'colleague'."

Alarm bells exploded in his head.

Chen Fan picked up Little Candle and ducked behind a pillar. The critical hit system burned a red mark onto his wrist—[Cognitive Misjudgment Warning].

The Ink Judge's voice echoed from the four walls, like countless fine needles stabbing into his ears: "The Third Trial is moved forward—meet Iron Page immediately!"

The air in front of the secret chamber door was bone-chillingly cold.

Iron Page stood there like a mountain made of human bodies.

Chen Fan saw "Wang Erniu · Porter · Eradicate" carved into the human skin on its chest, and "Li Zhaodi · Teacher · Eradicate" on its left arm. Every patch of skin had a greenish-gray hue, looking as if it had been soaked in formalin for twenty years.

The Ink Judge stood on the high platform, a latch on his bronze brain-casing clicking open a crack: "Touch its body. If it feels no pain, then you are the true judge."

Chen Fan's Adam's apple bobbed.

He knew this was a psychological test—a true judge would not be moved by the dead. Iron Page's 'pain' was a test of the human heart.

He took a deep breath. The moment his palm touched Iron Page's chest, countless images surged in like a tide:

"Please don't delete me! My daughter hasn't seen the photos on my phone yet!"

"Data evaporation."

"My wife is about to give birth, let me make one more call—"

"Mommy, I'm afraid of the dark..."

Chen Fan's eyes burned with pain.

Iron Page's skin suddenly began to twitch, and the stitching at the seams ripped open with a *shirr*.

The Ink Judge's cold laugh pierced through the alarm: "It feels pain—you are no judge, you are a disaster star!"

The gates on all four sides slammed down.

Chen Fan stuffed Little Candle into a hidden compartment in the wall. As he did, he felt her still clutching that blood-stained half-page of records: "Hold onto your mother's paper and wait for me to knock three times." Little Candle's nails dug into the back of his hand, but she didn't cry, only nodding heavily.

The critical hit system throbbed wildly in his temples: [Cognitive Misjudgment—Existence Stripping].

Using the three seconds of invisibility, Chen Fan darted behind Iron Page. He tore off a corner of his clothing soaked in Flame Marrow and lit it. The moment the flame licked Iron Page's back, the creature let out a silent wail, and the bone fragments beneath the human skin began to *clack* and *snap*.

"You burn names, I'll burn the skin!" Chen Fan roared. The fire surged up Iron Page's spine, suddenly illuminating an inscription carved inside: "First Eradication Decree · Executor: Chen Fan (Unactivated)."

He stumbled back, his back hitting the gate.

So the system had already marked his position—he was both the lamb to be slaughtered and the butcher wielding the knife.

"Enough!" The Ink Judge's brain-casing opened completely, and a bundle of silver threads shot into Iron Page's body. "With my divine consciousness as the guide, I awaken the Guardian's Wrath!"

Iron Page's eyes ignited with green fire, and its palm came pressing down like a mountain.

Chen Fan could even see the skin on its palm that read "Grandma Zhang · Cleaner · Eradicate" being stretched white.

At the critical moment, Silent Eye's voice suddenly exploded: "Do you remember me?

I am your younger sister—Quiet Speech, deleted during the third round of purging."

Iron Page's movements froze abruptly.

Chen Fan saw the characters "Quiet Speech · Proofreader · Eradicate" on its chest suddenly glow with a red light, as if being branded again with a hot iron.

The critical hit system vibrated one last time. Using the three seconds of invisibility, he leaped behind Iron Page and stuffed the glowing red Flame Marrow seed into the crack in its spine.

"Ah—!"

The Ink Judge's scream was more piercing than the alarm.

The silver threads were backwashed by the flames, which crawled through the gaps in the brain-casing. Black blood seeped from beneath his bronze mask.

Iron Page collapsed with a crash. The last piece of human skin fell at Chen Fan's feet, the words on it still bleeding: "We... were once players."

As the dust settled, a light suddenly shone from deep within the secret chamber.

The light wasn't the system's cold white, but a warm orange-yellow, like the streetlight at the entrance of his old village that always stayed on late into the night.

Chen Fan wiped the blood from his face and saw several flickering words floating at the edge of the light portal—before he could see them clearly, Little Candle crawled out of the hidden compartment and tugged at his sleeve: "Brother Fan, that light... it's shaking."

From among the disintegrated scraps of Iron Page's skin, a yellowed piece of paper floated up and landed gently in front of the light portal.

Chen Fan leaned down to pick it up and found it was a player manual with only half a corner remaining after being burned. A line of text was circled in red: "When all names have been erased, remember—"

The alarm sounds were suddenly extinguished completely.

A very soft sigh came from within the light portal, as if someone had been waiting a long time, and finally, the person who would open the door had arrived.