125: Chapter 125 The more you try to clear the area, the more I'll lead my men upstairs.

The fingertips of the Broken Pen Official suddenly curled over the data threads, and the blue light from the terminal fragment shimmered in his pupils, creating tiny spots of light.

The tremor of the Earth Vein Channel crawled up his bones through the threads, like being poked by a rusty awl. "Earth Vein Channel fluctuation..." His throat bobbed, and pale blue data streams seeped from his semi-digitized right ear, "Someone is opening the door using the First Generation Credential."

The sound of crushed bricks grinding came from outside the pile of rubble.

When Chen Fan lifted the door curtain, he brought a gust of wind that made the white hair on the Broken Pen Official's forehead flutter wildly.

Little Candle followed behind him, the Anti-Contract Rune glowing eerily green in her palm; Black Crow supported Shadow Weaver, who was still unconscious, dust from the theater backstage clinging to her eyelashes.

"The Red Candle Judge has already led thirty-six Judges to occupy the ninth basement level." The Broken Pen Official ripped off the threads wrapped around the terminal, and the fragment's screen suddenly flashed brightly, "The Final Purity Ritual will commence in two hours—" When he looked up, the human iris of his left eye and the data matrix of his right eye contracted simultaneously, "At that time, all remnant souls will be refined into system energy."

Chen Fan's knuckles tightened slightly at his side.

He remembered Lin Lin's voice when she called out "Brother" in the theater just now—it was like a crumpled piece of paper, yet it still carried warmth. "Two hours." He repeated, his voice heavy as if pressing down a block of lead, "Is that enough time to snatch people out?"

Little Candle suddenly squatted down.

A faint rustling sound came from the corner of the rubble pile, like a mouse gnawing on wood shavings.

The Gray Thread Child was curled up in the shadow of a broken beam, covered in scorched wall ash, clutching a ball of black thread in its hand—the black thread was wrapped around a broken silver earring, with a streak of rust-colored blood still clinging to the edge.

"It's Lin Lin's," Little Candle said softly.

Her fingertip brushed across the top of the Gray Thread Child's head. The child shuddered violently but did not dodge.

The black thread slowly unfurled in her palm, first forming a crooked 'nine,' then quickly dismantling into a 'three.'

Black Crow bent down to get closer, his blind eyelids twitching twice: "She's saying... three people are still alive and can respond to the summons."

Half of the Broken Pen Official's face suddenly erupted in data noise: "The Gray Thread Child only recognizes Shadow Weaver." His voice carried the crackle of electronic sound, "Why is she helping you?"

Little Candle's thumb gently stroked an old scar on the Gray Thread Child's hand: "She heard Lin Lin's lingering regret."

Chen Fan squatted down.

The Gray Thread Child looked up at him, its pupils reflecting the blue flame of the ember in his palm—that was fire nurtured by Su Shuang's Fox Demon Bloodline, capable of burning through system barriers.

He dripped the blue flame onto the earring. As soon as the blue flame touched the silver, it hissed, and the earring instantly became scorching hot.

Three blurry figures floated out of the flame.

The leftmost figure wore a faded Enforcer uniform, its faceplate split in two, revealing the knife-cut wrinkles underneath—it was "Mute Face," whose ID was purged three years ago for refusing to execute civilians; the middle figure was an old woman wrapped in a white lab coat, a broken medical bracelet still hanging on her wrist—it was "Needle Granny," wanted for treating patients deemed "polluted" by the system; the rightmost figure was the clearest, with a modified short blade tucked beneath a black trench coat—it was "Night Owl," who self-destructed his ID in the Gold Instance last year, escaping into the fissures with twenty civilians.

"I need people willing to risk their lives." Chen Fan's voice was low, yet it struck into every shadow like a nail, "Not for system points, but for..." His throat moved, "For treating people like people."

The three shadows trembled simultaneously.

A muffled laugh leaked from the cracks in Mute Face's faceplate, like sandpaper scraping against an iron plate; Needle Granny raised her withered, branch-like hand and touched her own shadow in the flame, tears splashing onto the rubble, making sparks fly with a 'pop'; Night Owl tilted his head, staring at Chen Fan, and the short blade under his black trench coat suddenly unsheathed half an inch, the cold glint momentarily stinging the eyes.

"Shadow Pavilion patrol blind spot," Black Crow suddenly spoke up, the terminal fragment heating up in his palm, "Every two hours, the ventilation shaft on the north side of the Tower has a seven-minute period with no surveillance coverage."

The Broken Pen Official twitched the corner of his mouth, the noise on half his face coalescing into a cold sneer: "Just enough time for three 'dead men' to climb up."

Chen Fan pressed the key fragment against his palm and pried it apart forcefully.

With a crisp snap, the fragment split into four pieces, each displaying faint golden system inscriptions floating within.

He handed them to the three figures one by one: "You are not registered players, the system cannot kill you—" He paused, "But it cannot save you either.

Once inside, do only one thing: find the people who can still breathe and bring them back."

When Mute Face took the fragment, his rough fingertips brushed against Chen Fan's hand.

Those were hands that had carried corpses for ten years, yet now they were as light as if afraid of shattering something.

Needle Granny pressed the fragment against her chest, and the heartbeat beneath her white lab coat came through the fabric—one beat, two beats, louder than any oath.

Night Owl was the last to receive his piece.

The fingers holding the fragment suddenly tightened, his knuckles turning white: "Ten years..." His voice was hoarse like rusty gears, "Finally, someone dares to send living people into the Tower."

Before the words faded, he turned and rushed toward the dark alley outside the outpost.

The wind whipped his black trench coat, making it flap loudly, and in the blink of an eye, his shadow was gone.

Chen Fan gazed in the direction he disappeared, and a system prompt suddenly sounded in his sea of consciousness, like a string of small bells: [Non-registered collaborators acting in concert, Critical Hit Rate + 2%].

At the same moment, on the ninth basement level of the Starlight Tower.

The Red Candle Judge inserted the final blood candle into the array core, and the dark red candle oil flowed down the rune-carved stone bricks like countless crawling bloodworms.

He looked up, and a sinister laugh echoed through the empty underground palace: "The Silent Corridor... will finally return to silence."

Outside the Gray Alley Outpost, the rain had stopped at some unknown time.

Chen Fan stared toward the Starlight Tower; the blue light at the top was fragmented by the cloud cover.

Black Crow suddenly tugged at his coat sleeve and pointed toward the northern sky—there was an extremely faint black shadow climbing in the direction of the ventilation shaft.

"Night Owl," Little Candle said softly.

Chen Fan narrowed his eyes.

He saw the black shadow pause at the edge of the shaft and raise its hand.

Three extremely thin beams of light burst from between its fingers, like three falling stars, tracing brief bright streaks in the dark night.