128: Chapter 128 Breaking Through Seven Layers of Illusion, Returning the Heart Flame to One

As Chen Fan's fingertip touched the door knocker, the entire wall rippled like water.

Thousand Faces' voice seeped out from every ripple, drilling into his eardrums like countless fine needles: "For her?"

The scene inside the wall suddenly became clear—Su Shuang was chained to a bronze altar, her pale wrists marked with bloody indentations, the green line on the heart monitor weak, like a spider silk about to snap at any moment.

Chen Fan's Adam's apple bobbed, and the critical energy in his Dantian was suddenly drawn in like a magnet, sinking into his meridians with a 'whoosh,' burning until his fingertips trembled.

A system prompt flashed across his retina: [Critical Core Condensation Progress: 17%].

"This punch is for every name you have crushed," he spat out through gritted teeth, and the door creaked open a crack.

The nine layers of mirrors overlapped, each reflecting his shadow.

The innermost mirror suddenly warped, and Chen Fan's pupils contracted sharply—it was the construction site shack, Foreman Liu chewing on a cigarette, his yellow teeth flashing in the smoke, holding a stack of banknotes: "Little Chen, sign this agreement, and you can live."

The smell of smoke entered Chen Fan's nostrils, and he was momentarily transported back three years.

At that time, he was squatting in a corner of the construction site, gnawing on a cold steamed bun, when Foreman Liu slapped the payroll into his arms: "Sign the work injury agreement, and this thirty thousand yuan is yours." Later, he learned that the so-called 'work injury' was an accident where he took the blame for the foreman, resulting in a broken leg.

"Sign it," the Foreman Liu in the illusion smiled even more obsequiously, pushing the banknotes toward him.

Chen Fan reached out to take it, but just as his fingertip touched the edge of the paper, the banknotes burst into flames with a 'whoo,' and ashes rained down onto his feet.

The ground suddenly split open, and countless ID tags glowing faintly rose up—they were the names of players erased by the system, emitting faint whimpers in the air.

"Damn it, I'm not even afraid to die now," Chen Fan chuckled lowly, and a blue flame shot out from between his knuckles.

This punch had no fancy moves, carrying the fierceness from three years ago when his wages were withheld. It smashed into the mirror with a 'boom.'

The mirror shattered into starlight, and the system prompt exploded: [First Illusion Trial Completed, Gained Experience +2300 (Critical Hit × 3.1)].

Energy, like molten mercury, sank into his Dantian. He heard a 'click' inside his core, and the progress bar jumped to 29%.

The third layer of illusion arrived without warning.

Chen Fan's vision blurred. His rough cloth work uniform transformed into a scarlet long robe, and he held a Soul-Burning Scythe emanating black mist.

He was surrounded by the ruins of the newbie dungeon. Several players in beginner gear huddled in a corner. One small girl with pigtails rushed toward him crying, "Brother, save me!"

"The Purifier's duty is to maintain order," Chen Fan heard his own voice, cold as an ice pick.

He raised the scythe, but the blade stopped three inches above the little girl's head—the self in his memory wasn't like this; he would share his last half a steamed bun with a stray dog, and he would move three more cartloads of cement to help Old Cripple pay for his medicine.

"Are you hesitating?" The system's voice exploded above his head, "Is this the 'humanity' you speak of?" Chen Fan's hand began to tremble. The scythe suddenly turned and slashed toward the faint surveillance line in the air.

With a 'clang,' the illusion burst like a punctured balloon. He knelt on the ground, dry heaving violently, his stomach churning with bile.

"Chen Fan! Chen Fan!" Black Crow's voice broke through from outside the illusion.

Chen Fan looked up and saw Black Crow's shadow frantically slapping the mirror surface. Blood was dripping from his chin onto the ground: "His emotional fluctuation is about to exceed the threshold! If he can't hold on, he'll suffer a Qi deviation—"

Before he finished speaking, a warm touch pressed against the back of his neck.

Silent-Faced Child had climbed to the edge of the mirror at some unknown time, pressing his tattered finger onto his vital point at the back of his neck.

A memory surged like a tide: Su Shuang kneeling in the cellar of the Teahouse, moonlight leaking through the air vent, illuminating the blue flame crystal on her chest. She spoke to the empty air, "If Chen Fan can reach this place..."

The illusion twisted again.

In the sixth mirror layer, Su Shuang stood outside the Starlight Tower wearing a moon-white qipao, the silver hairpin in her hair gleaming: "Let's go home." Her smile was still so gentle, and the tear mole at the corner of her eye rose with the upturn of her lips.

Chen Fan's throat tightened, and he almost reached out to touch her face—but he glimpsed at her feet.

There was no shadow on the ground.

"Su Shuang never wears red embroidered shoes," Chen Fan's voice suddenly turned cold.

The 'Su Shuang' in the illusion lowered her head, and the red embroidered shoes on her ankles were seeping black blood.

He clenched his fist, and the blue flame condensed into a fireball in his palm: "You can't fool me."

The fireball slammed into the 'Su Shuang's' chest, and the illusion shattered into golden dust.

Amidst the system prompts, the critical core's progress bar jumped to 82% with a 'whoosh.'

Chen Fan felt a mass of lava surging inside him, but it was locked by an invisible cage, unable to leak even half a trace of energy.

The seventh illusion layer was the cruelest.

Chen Fan stood before the alien mothership, with billions of humans kneeling beneath his feet.

The system's voice poured down from the metal dome: "You finally understand the meaning of order." He looked down and saw his clothes transformed into the golden-patterned robe of the System Spokesperson, the Soul-Burning Scythe emitting a faint glow in his palm.

"Order?" Chen Fan suddenly burst into laughter, his laughter echoing against the hull with a roar, "What I hate most is having my destiny arranged by others." He looked up, the blue flame in his eyes burning even brighter, "Overload? Then I'll explode for you to see."

The critical energy inside his body began to surge wildly, and the core made cracking sounds, 'kaka.'

System warnings flooded his retina: [Critical Core Approaching Overload! Uncontrolled energy will lead to the annihilation of the host body!]

Chen Fan, however, laughed more wantonly. He spread his arms, as if embracing this destruction—

"Boom!"

The moment the illusion completely collapsed, Chen Fan stumbled and fell onto the eighth layer of ground.

Thousand Faces' giant mask floated before the Echo Wall, where names were being erased by black mist. One newly carved name, "Chen Fan," was left with only half a stroke.

Shadow Skin stood beneath the giant mask. The human skins in the glass box spun wildly, every face grinning: "The last face, dedicated to eternity."

"Wait—" Silent-Faced Child suddenly lunged over, scratching crooked symbols onto the ground with his fingernails.

Chen Fan followed the line of sight, and the symbols formed a sentence: "Fire Seed Container = Su Shuang."

His pupils constricted violently. The critical core inside his body suddenly vibrated intensely, and the progress bar soared to 98% at a speed visible to the naked eye.

Energy condensed into a point of faint blue in his Dantian, like a star about to explode.

Thousand Faces' voice became piercing: "You have no way back."

"No," Chen Fan wiped the blood from the corner of his mouth. When he looked up, the blue flame in his eyes almost burned through the dome, "My path is to burn all of your names to ash."

Before the words faded, Thousand Faces' giant mask suddenly opened its eyes.

Shadow Skin's glass box erupted with blinding white light, and countless human skins shot toward Chen Fan like sharp arrows.

"Be careful!"

Stone Skin's roar exploded from his side and rear.

The moment Chen Fan turned his head, he saw the defender, who always polished his wrought-iron shield until it shone, lunging forward. Black blood was seeping from the necrotic area on his right arm.

He slammed his back against Chen Fan's chest, raising the wrought-iron shield high above his head—

The white light from the shattering of the Thousand Faces struck directly onto the surface of the shield.