127: Chapter 127 Name Burns into the System, Fist Slams into the Tower Gate

Before the blue flame on the seventh floor of the Starlight Tower had completely extinguished, the golden names scrolling on the terminal screen suddenly rippled, like a lake surface into which a stone had been thrown.

The spark in Chen Fan's palm trembled along with it, and Xiao Lin's last words, "Brother, it hurts," suddenly exploded in his ears—that was the boy's final murmur before his soul power was drained three days ago in the Silent Corridor.

"The... The Echo Wall has awakened." Black Crow suddenly stumbled to his knees, his knuckles digging into the gaps between the floor tiles as blood seeped from his blind eye sockets. "It's calling your name, Chen Fan, over and over..."

The entire tower began to vibrate at a low frequency, like a giant beating drums underground.

The hair on the back of Chen Fan's neck stood on end. He heard it—countless overlapping shouts surging from all directions, precisely those names that had just been carved into the system: "Xiao Lin," "Ink Trace," "Gray Thread Child"... Every name carried a burnt smell, as if being repeatedly scorched in a fire.

"It wants to burn the names we already burned, all over again?" Chen Fan clenched his fists, the blue flame in his palm jumping into a blinding light. "Fine. This time, I'm not just going to carve names; I'm going to tear this tower down!"

Old Cripple slung his rifle over his back, his iron boots crushing the ID fragments on the ground. "The ventilation shaft is to the east. I've scouted it; we can descend to the outskirts of the Faceless Tower." Stone Skin silently stood by his side, his thick palm pressing against the fine iron shield at his waist—the shield's surface still bore the dent smashed by a Rock Demon in the last dungeon.

Silent-Faced Child crawled out from the shadows at some unknown point, his pale little finger pointing to the vent in the corner before quickly retracting back into his loose gray robes.

The iron ladder in the ventilation shaft was heavily rusted; when Chen Fan stepped on it, it gave a "creak," startling a layer of rust off from above.

When they reached the third floor, Old Cripple suddenly raised his hand to signal a stop.

The main door of the Faceless Tower hung just five meters below, carved from a single piece of obsidian, its surface embossed with thousands of distorted human faces.

The mouth of every face opened and closed slightly, as if chanting some silent curse.

As Stone Skin reached out to touch the door, the nearest human face suddenly split open, spraying out a pale green mist.

"Watch out!" Old Cripple roared, his iron arm pushing Stone Skin aside.

The mist brushed past Old Cripple's left forearm, and the fabric of his military uniform carbonized instantly. His skin sizzled and bubbled as charring spread at a speed visible to the naked eye.

"The door is eating 'Truth'." Black Crow's voice sounded like sandpaper rubbing together, the lines of blood from his blind eyes dripping onto the tower bricks along his chin. "Those who speak the truth will be eroded—just now, when Stone Skin said 'I'll do it,' it was the truth."

Silent-Faced Child suddenly scurried past Old Cripple's feet and lightly tapped the drainage canal on the side of the door with his fingertip.

Chen Fan crouched down and saw two pale pink scars where eyes should have been on the child's smooth face—left behind when Shadow Skin had peeled off his face.

"How do you know this path?" Chen Fan asked softly.

Silent-Faced Child didn't answer, only pressing his palm against his own face.

There were no features there, but there was warmth, like a piece of jade held against one's chest.

As the team hunched over and crawled into the drainage canal, Chen Fan smelled rust and rotting rats.

At the end of the passage was a waist-high stone wall; climbing over it would lead to the Face-Changing Corridor.

The Faceless Guardians on both sides seemed to have their switches flipped; the bodies that had been wearing empty-shell masks suddenly came to life.

Just as Chen Fan took his first step, the nearest mask "cracked" open—it was Foreman Liu from the construction site, smiling at him with a cigarette in his mouth: "Little Chen, about last time's wages? Brother will settle them right now."

The second mask changed; it was Boss Zhou, who had owed him three months' wages last year, waving a bank card: "Sign this agreement, and you'll get triple compensation."

The third mask made Chen Fan's breath hitch—Su Shuang was bound by chains to a blood altar, her fox ears drooping weakly, blood seeping from the corner of her mouth: "Chen Fan, they said... as long as I surrender my bloodline, they'll release everyone..."

"Motherf***er!" Veins bulged on Old Cripple's neck as his steel blade unsheathed three inches. "I'll hack this goddamn illusion to pieces—"

Black Crow's fingertips dug into Old Cripple's wrist, making the veteran gasp in pain. "Don't look! That's Shadow Weaver fishing for emotions. The heart's gate of the enraged will break!"

Chen Fan squeezed his eyes shut, his temples throbbing.

A system notification exploded in his mind: [High-density illusion interference detected. Activating "Pre-translation Mode"].

He snapped his eyes open. The phantom of Su Shuang before him was still bleeding, but he saw a translucent stream of data floating behind her—it was the hem of Shadow Skin's clothing.

"She's been dead for a long time?" Chen Fan chuckled low, his fist wrapped in blue flame as he smashed it into the phantom's chest. "Then who am I saving now?"

The illusion was like a poked soap bubble, exploding into fragments with a "bang."

Shadow Skin stepped out from the shadows at the end of the corridor, the Glazed Box in her palm glinting with a cold light. Dozens of human skins floated and rotated around her, each face wearing the terror of their final moments. "Your names will soon be here as well."

The moment she waved her hand, the human faces throughout the entire corridor came alive.

Blue-gray mist poured out from the masks, and countless hands reached through the mist to grab at them, their fingernails glinting with a poisoned, ghostly blue.

"Stone Skin!" Chen Fan shouted.

Stone Skin gave a muffled grunt, planting his fine iron shield into the ground and crossing his arms to form a shield wall.

When the first wave of impact hit, his knuckles turned white; at the second, spiderweb cracks appeared on the shield's surface; at the third—his skin split into tiny bloody gashes, and dark red droplets of blood seeped out, dripping onto the shield's surface, "patter, patter."

"Old Cripple, cut off the rear!" Chen Fan pulled out a Concussion Grenade and threw it.

Old Cripple pulled the pin, and the grenade hit the ceiling and exploded. Rubble poured down like a rainstorm, temporarily burying the pursuing mist.

Black Crow knelt on the ground, covering his ears, blood leaking through his fingers. "The tower's heart is calling... It wants us to walk into the 'Nine-Fold Illusory Faces' of our own accord."

Chen Fan wiped the blood from the corner of his mouth, the blue flame flickering in his eyes. "Then let's go. Let's show it what an 'unquenchable name' looks like."

The door to the ninth floor was heavier than imagined.

When Chen Fan's hand touched the door knocker, the entire wall suddenly rippled, and Thousand Faces' voice surged from every ripple, like countless people speaking at once: "Welcome, Chen Fan. Are you here for her?"

An image appeared within the wall: Su Shuang's broken body was locked onto a bronze altar, the green line on the heart monitor so weak it was almost about to snap.

Chen Fan's fingertips trembled uncontrollably. The critical hit energy within him suddenly stopped overflowing and sank into his dantian like liquid mercury, scorching his meridians.

A system notification quietly surfaced on his retina: [Critical Hit Core—Condensation Progress: 17%].

"This punch isn't for her, nor is it for you." Chen Fan stared at the giant face on the wall, patched together from a thousand human skins, every word like fire-tempered steel. "It's for all the names you treated as dust."

The door opened slowly.

Nine-Fold Mirrors were nested within each other, reflecting countless "Chen Fans."

The innermost mirror suddenly rippled, the image distorting into the construction site from his memories—Foreman Liu was puffing on a cigarette, clutching a stack of cash: "Little Chen, sign this agreement..."

Chen Fan's pupils contracted slightly.

He heard the sound of his own heartbeat and the sound of the blue flame burning, amplified infinitely within the Nine-Fold Mirrors.