106: Chapter 106 I am now the judge, not the target.

The moment the light gate closed, a sudden chill ran down the back of Chen Fan's neck.

He thought he would be teleported back to the safe zone as usual after a dungeon ended, but a sensation of falling suddenly gripped his stomach—his body felt as if it had been thrown into a bottomless well, and his eardrums buzzed under the pressure.

"System?" he whispered through gritted teeth, his temples throbbing.

The dormant critical hit system lacked its usual electronic voice, sending only a faint tremor as if responding to his unease.

It wasn't until his back slammed heavily against a damp rock wall that he saw his surroundings—a narrow subterranean leyline passage where the smell of mold mixed with rust filled his nose. The rock walls on both sides were densely carved with names, each scratch oozing weak cries like countless fine needles pricking his ears.

"Players erased by the system..." Chen Fan pulled out the bone shard; the coordinates on it glowed with blood-light in the gloom.

The bronze coin embedded in the groove was slightly hot, and a 3D path manifested in mid-air, the arrow pointing straight to the "Archive Tower Bottom Ventilation Shaft."

He curled up and crawled forward, his nails scraping the rock wall and getting covered in slime; only when he brought it to his eyes did he find it was dark red moss, looking like dried blood.

"Are you... the one who didn't sign?"

The slight noise made him tense up instantly.

Turning his head, a small figure emerged from a fork—Little Candle was holding half a candle, not flinching even as wax dripped onto the back of her hand, her pale little face flickering in the firelight.

She was clutching a piece of cloth, its edges torn and frayed.

"Sister Silent Eye told me to wait for you." The little girl sniffled, tremblingly handing over the cloth strip, "She said... don't use your real name, use a dead person's."

Chen Fan took the cloth, his fingertips touching raised Braille.

He had once helped Old Zhou, a blind man at a construction site, read letters, and felt out the words: "Ink Seven, an Archive Judge who fell to his death ten years ago, mask cracked at the left eye." Looking up, Little Candle was staring at the "No Deleting Names" wooden plaque at his waist, tears hanging from her lashes: "Sister said you're going to save someone, but..." She suddenly grabbed his hem, "Will you come back?"

Chen Fan's throat tightened.

He remembered the judgment line "Unauthorized modification of archives" on Little Candle's mother's death record, and remembered her sobbing until she hiccuped while clinging to the filing cabinet.

He knelt down and wiped the dust from her face with his thumb: "Wait for me to carve the list on every tower, then I'll come pick you up to watch the sunrise."

Little Candle nodded heavily and vanished into the fork.

After the footsteps faded, Chen Fan felt toward a dark corner—a rotting corpse lay there, a Judge's token still pinned to its black robe, with a crack in the left eye of the mask, exactly matching the "Ink Seven" in the Braille.

He stripped the robe from the corpse and put it on; the smell of mold and rot filled his throat, yet it made him feel safer than any armor.

"Hoo." He breathed into his palm, white mist dispersing behind the mask.

Fingertips traced the mask's crack, which happened to cover his own left eye—this was no coincidence; Silent Eye had calculated it.

The cold white lights of the Identification Hall made him squint.

Three Inspectors stood behind the soul branding instrument, the metal device humming and spitting out blue light.

Chen Fan could hear his own heartbeat, one, two, thumping until his ribs ached.

"Name." The Inspector on the left pressed a button, blue light scanning his forehead.

The device suddenly emitted a piercing buzz.

Chen Fan saw the scanning screen full of garbled code, like paper eaten by insects.

"Abnormal divine consciousness fluctuations." The Inspector on the right drew a short blade from his waist, the blade reflecting his tensed jaw under the mask.

Footsteps came from behind.

Chen Fan didn't need to look back to know who it was—the silver wires of Ink Judge's brain-box brushed the floor, making a barely audible rustling sound.

He had heard that sound in the secret passage and in the shadows of the monitoring room, but now it was closer, close enough to smell the scorched scent leaking from the gaps of the brain-box.

"Recite the Judge's oath." Ink Judge's voice sounded like rusty gears.

Chen Fan's Adam's apple bobbed.

He remembered Silent Eye saying the new oath was "In the name of order, erase the anomalies," while the old version... He paused deliberately and recited: "In the name of oblivion, seal away the sins."

The Inspector's blade tip paused in mid-air.

The one on the right widened his eyes: "The old oath was abolished ten years ago..."

"He's reciting the old version."

Silent Eye's voice came from behind the archive desk.

Chen Fan caught a glimpse of her fingertips resting on an archive book; the blind girl's lashes cast shadows under her eyes like a resting butterfly.

She knew that only a Judge who had truly served as a Jiedushi under the old system would remember those eight words.

A few silver wires suddenly burst from Ink Judge's brain-box, tightening around the scroll at hand.

Chen Fan could feel the system vibrating in his mind as if counting down—three seconds later, his figure suddenly faded, reappearing at the entrance of the second floor.

"Cognitive misjudgment established." The system's whisper was as light as a sigh.

The mirrors in the second floor's "Memory Torture Corridor" were a dull grey, each reflecting countless Chen Fans.

Just as he stepped in, a crack appeared in the middle mirror, and a mechanical voice rang out: "First question: Who was the subject of your last execution?"

Chen Fan stared at his mask in the mirror.

He remembered the child laborer in the Third District half a month ago who hid his younger sister's birth archive, remembered the child clutching half a roasted sweet potato when pressed onto the execution table. "A child who hid an archive," he said.

Little Candle's face appeared on the mirror surface.

Chen Fan's heart skipped a beat—but the alarm didn't sound.

System prompts flashed in his mind: [Half-truth, half-false, memory overlap established].

"Second question: To whom do you owe your loyalty?"

This time he didn't hesitate: "Oblivion."

In the monitoring room, Ink Judge's hand clutching the scroll suddenly tightened, the paper piercing his palm.

This was the highest Judge's oath, which only the "Gravediggers" at the very top were worthy of saying.

He stared at the figure on the monitor, the crack in his brain-box spreading another half-inch—this wasn't something a fake should know.

"Third question: Do you remember your name?"

Chen Fan tore a piece of his robe and carved "Ink Seven" on it with the tip of his blade.

The shadow pact floated above the forbidden scrolls, black mist wrapping around the pages and then releasing, ultimately triggering no alarms.

The system's vibration became clearer: [Existence misjudged... Correction successful].

The bone-shard bookshelves in the third floor's "Quiet Speech Pavilion" glowed pale white in the shadows.

Silent Eye was already waiting there, her fingertips brushing a sheep bone with faded blood-red words: "First Execution Order · Fake".

"The real original is on the seventh floor." She handed over an ear-bone shard, "Wear it, and you'll hear the cries within the paper."

Chen Fan pressed the bone shard behind his ear.

The entire tower suddenly hummed, like someone tolling a funeral bell.

He heard infants crying, old men sighing, and countless choked sobs of "Please don't delete"—lingering resentment was pressed under every page of the archives.

Just then, a rusty iron nail in the corner caught his eye.

That pattern... was exactly the same as the bronze coin the foreman had given him back then.

He pulled out a short blade and pried up the floorboards.

The fragment in the hidden compartment was covered in dust; he blew it away, his pupils suddenly shrinking—

"Purifier Candidate List · First Generation"

The first name was actually "Chen Fan," with a note: "Critical hit adaptability ∞, backup protocol: After the self-cleaning program starts, clear all Awakened memories."

Further down, the name "Su Shuang" was circled repeatedly in red ink, with a note: "Bloodline Resonance Body, can serve as a restart vessel."

"You are not Ink Seven..."

Ink Judge's voice surged from all directions like countless needles pricking his ears, "You are that... 'Source Point' that shouldn't be alive."

The ceiling crashed open.

Chen Fan looked up and saw the Iron Page Puppet falling from above—the face made of a hundred human skins flickered in the shadows, each one an erased player.

Their mouths opened simultaneously, whispering in unison: "Purifier... return."

Chen Fan gripped the fragment tightly, his knuckles turning white.

The system vibrated violently in his mind as if counting his heartbeats.

The moment the Iron Page Puppet's feet touched the ground, the entire floor made a tooth-aching cracking sound, and the eyes on the human-skin faces opened one by one, glowing with an eerie green light.