131: Chapter 131 The tower is a coffin, Lao Tzu lifts the lid.

The sole of Chen Fan's boot ground over the moss growing in the cracks between the drainage ditch bricks; every step felt like treading on a tightly drawn string.

The deeper he walked, the straighter the hairs on the back of his neck stood up—that faint, elusive scent of sandalwood grew stronger, identical to the one in Su Shuang's Teahouse, down to the exact intensity.

He touched the access token at his waist; the metal surface was alarmingly hot, the blue flame flickering beneath his skin as if urging something onward.

"The data stream cut off here... No, it was folded." Black Crow's voice suddenly exploded in his ear, accompanied by the crackle of electricity, "The code at the base of the Tower has layered into a cocoon. That wall in front of you... might be the cocoon shell."

Chen Fan stopped.

The end of the passage featured a wall that emitted a cold light in the darkness, its surface as smooth as ice quenched for a thousand years. As he leaned closer, the mirror only reflected a blurry gray shadow—no face, no bloodstains, not even the white mist from his breath remained, completely swallowed.

"Interesting," he chuckled softly, extending his right hand.

As his fingertip just brushed the wall, the blue flame in his palm suddenly vibrated violently, like a living thing recoiling from a burn.

A fine cracking sound came from within the wall; countless spiderweb-like fissures spread from his fingertip, glowing dark red in the gloom. They looked remarkably like... the sealing nails on a coffin.

"No door behind the door; a coffin within a coffin."

A hoarse, bloody script sounded near his ankle.

Chen Fan spun around sharply, seeing the Assertor crawling out of the shadows, half of its tongue curling in bloody froth.

This tongue-severed prophet was covered in fresh scratches. Its left hand dug fiercely into the brick crevices, while its right hand, dipped in the blood seeping from its chest, scrawled crookedly at the base of the wall—every stroke seemed carved into bone with a fingernail.

Chen Fan's pupils constricted.

He recalled the three dots the Silent-Faced Child had marked in the brick seams, the system prompt stating 'Kindling = Container,' and the illusory text that floated up when the blue flame crystal on Su Shuang's chest rippled.

The fissures on the wall suddenly became clear. Those dark red patterns were not fissures at all; they were... locks.

Locks securing a coffin.

"So, it's not about finding a door," his Adam's apple bobbed, his knuckles turning white from clenching, "It's about prying off the lid."

The energy of the Heart Returning Blast churned within his meridians.

Chen Fan closed his eyes, compressing all the violent power toward his fist—like crushing a thunder bomb ready to explode, yet insisting on drawing the spark into a thread.

The blue flame condensed into a pinprick of light in his eyes, its core pulsing with his heartbeat: one beat, two beats. On the third beat, he gently touched the wall.

A silent tremor shot through the wall from his fingertip.

Those dark red 'locks' suddenly burst open. The entire wall was lifted away as if by an invisible hand, revealing a black cube suspended behind it.

The surface of the cube was densely carved with names, but all had been smeared into blurry scratches, as if repeatedly wiped away with the utmost force.

"Soul Compression Core!" Black Crow's gasp nearly broke pitch, "The alien civilization used this to refine player souls into fuel. Every name is..."

Before the words finished, the cube suddenly glowed blue.

Chen Fan's pupils reflected Su Shuang's figure—not the unconscious her, but the her smiling while holding a teacup in the Teahouse, the her wielding the Fox Fire sword against monsters in the instance, even the folds of the silk flower in her hair were perfectly replicated.

"Don't touch the core." The illusion's fingertip stroked his face; the temperature was exactly the same as the real Su Shuang, "It's waiting for you to become the next Purifier, just like me back then..."

A smile slowly spread across Chen Fan's face.

He grabbed that hand and pressed it against his left chest—the scar from where the bone blade pierced him in the last instance remained there. "Shuanger, when you hug me, you avoid this spot."

The illusion's expression twisted for a moment.

Chen Fan violently pulled his hand back and slammed a punch into the ground near the illusion's feet.

The instant the blue flame exploded, Su Shuang's shadow scattered into points of light with a 'hiss,' like a punctured bubble.

"No matter how real your act is, it can't compare to the pain I've felt." He ripped off the corner of his clothes to wipe his fist, turned, and pressed the access token into the gap of the cube.

The token burned his palm red, but the blue flame seeped through the gap. A dull vibration emanated from inside the cube, like the first chime of an ancient bell.

"...It's burning back..."

Fine whispers seeped out of the cube.

Chen Fan saw hundreds of translucent shadows floating up: old men, children, white-collar workers in suits, and laborers like him covered in cement dust—their faces gradually becoming clear, the very names that had been erased.

"It's more than just burning back." Chen Fan's throat tightened, and he smashed his fist heavily onto the ground.

The energy of the Heart Returning Blast surged along the floor tiles toward the cube. A massive pair of light wings formed from the blue flame behind him, "I'm going to make you all... walk back!"

BOOM—

The cube cracked open, and a pillar of blue flame, like blood, shot toward the sky.

Chen Fan looked up, watching the light pierce through the drainage ditch, through the multiple floors of the Starlight Tower, finally tearing through the night sky.

The communicators of all players across the server lit up white simultaneously. Looking up, the trace of light above the Starlight Tower slowly coalesced into the character 'Chen.' System alarms blared everywhere, but they couldn't erase that mark carved into the sky.

"You... have awakened the Kindling Network." Black Crow's voice trembled.

Chen Fan wiped the blood from the corner of his mouth and looked up at the pillar of light.

The mechanical voice of the critical hit system furiously scrolled across his vision, but he only heard his own heartbeat thundering—the blue flame churned at the center of the light pillar, stretching his shadow long, long, like a sword about to be ignited.

"No," he smiled toward the sky, "I'm the one who lit the fuse for it."