17: Chapter 17 A punch that unleashed an ∞?

The instant the iron crown hit the ground, the cement floor cracked in a spiderweb pattern.

Zhao Iron Pillar's fingernails nearly dug into the rust, his Adam's apple bobbing up and down, his voice trembling: “I’m going to be...”

“Be your mother’s ghost!” Chen Fan’s voice slammed down from above him.

He used the elasticity of the rebar frame to sweep down diagonally, his work pants ballooning in the wind.

His kicked right foot carried the fishy-sweet scent of blood—his left arm, grazed by the Zombie King's tailbone, was still seeping blue smoke, the veins under his skin crawling like little snakes, but his pupils were brighter than the five a.m. dawn light at the construction site.

The iron crown bounced up half a meter with a 'clank,' tracing a distorted arc in the air.

Zhao Iron Pillar looked up at the piece of rusted iron, his back molars grinding audibly, the veins on his neck bulging like earthworms: “Who the hell do you think you are?!” He snatched up the iron rod by his feet, knocking over two lackeys huddled in the corner as he turned, “Surround him for me!”

Chen Fan took half a step back, his back against a cement pillar.

The passive warning system buzzed behind his ears, like a bee scratching his nerves—the third lackey on the left twitched his left toe, and the kid on the right holding a wrench swallowed hard.

He sidestepped the first swing, shoving the rushing skinny man away with the back of his hand, his peripheral vision catching sight of Brother Dao closing in on the Zombie King while gripping a battle axe.

Good opportunity.

He deliberately staggered, tripping over half a brick, leaving his back completely exposed to Brother Dao's sight.

Brother Dao's pupils instantly contracted, the axe blade whistling as it swung toward his nape—if this axe landed solidly, Chen Fan would be chopped in half.

But just as the axe blade was three inches from his nape, he suddenly ducked and rolled. Brother Dao's battle axe embedded itself firmly into the cement pillar, shaking the entire wall.

“Data Strike!” Brother Dao roared, his eyes red.

Chen Fan had heard of this move before—the skill of a green-grade axe wielder. After hitting the target, it would trigger a shockwave, attacking indiscriminately within a three-square-meter radius.

He used the momentum from his roll to dive into the pile of rebar, where he saw a visible gray wave spreading out from Brother Dao's axe blade.

The affected lackeys were flung away like rag dolls. Zhao Iron Pillar’s iron rod fell with a 'clank,' and he curled up on the ground clutching his stomach, black blood oozing from the corner of his mouth.

“Chen Fan! You tricked me!” Brother Dao kicked free the battle axe stuck in the cement, the veins on his forehead throbbing terrifyingly.

Chen Fan ignored him.

His gaze locked onto the Zombie King—the thing was tilting its rotten head back, emitting a roar from its throat similar to a bellows, and the chains around its neck suddenly glowed red.

Countless red threads crawled out of the cracks in the ground, wrapping around the ankles of the fallen players like living earthworms. Those ensnared began to roll their eyes back, their soul-form phantoms slowly being pulled upward.

“We are batteries...” Chen Fan suddenly recalled the torn log page he picked up from the ruins. The sentence was scrawled messily on the yellowed paper: “They aren't taking lives, they are taking souls.”

His fingernails dug deeply into his palm.

The wound on his left arm suddenly stopped hurting. The lingering bell in his chest felt scorching hot, and the notification sound from the critical hit system merged into one: [Hatred Value Exceeded 200%! Critical Hit Rate Increased to 35%!]

“All of you, wake up for me!” He roared and charged toward the Zombie King, sparks from his work boots crushing the rebar splashing across his face.

When his first punch struck the Zombie King's weak point on the back of its neck, the system notification exploded: [Basic Fist Technique - Armor Break Strike! Critical Hit Judged Successful! Multiplier × 2.7!]

The rotten flesh split open, revealing black blood, and the Zombie King's roar changed pitch.

Chen Fan followed up immediately with his second punch, his knuckles brushing against its exposed spinal bone: [Critical Hit Judged Successful! Multiplier × 3.2!]

Blue data garble mixed with the black blood, exploding with a 'poof' like a punctured balloon.

As the third punch landed, he heard the crisp sound of his own finger bones cracking.

But the system notification was louder: [Critical Hit Judged Successful! Multiplier × 2.9! Triple Critical Hit Triggered Hidden Mechanism: Residual Shock! Target Defense Reduced to Zero for 1.2 Seconds!]

Three of the Zombie King's chains snapped with a 'kacha.'

It wildly swung its rebar arms, but couldn't even touch the corner of Chen Fan's clothes—the passive warning allowed him to evade the attack half a step ahead every time.

Meanwhile, Zhao Iron Pillar had somehow gotten back up, clutching half a rebar rod and charging over with bloodshot eyes: “The final blow is mine!”

Chen Fan suddenly laughed.

He didn't strike the Zombie King. Instead, he turned, aiming his right fist at Zhao Iron Pillar’s chest.

“You snatched the steamed bun from the old beggar,” his voice mixed with blood foam, “and you kicked over the pregnant woman’s vegetable basket,” the air current from the punch blew off Zhao Iron Pillar’s ragged hat, “and now you want to steal someone else’s life?”

[Equipment Critical Hit (Construction Gloves +1) Triggered! Skill Critical Hit (Basic Fist Technique Mastery) Triggered! Damage Critical Hit (Hatred Value Overflow) Triggered! Total Multiplier × 10.1!]

When this punch landed, even the air let out a dull thud.

Zhao Iron Pillar’s body flew backward as if hit by a truck, slamming heavily into the Zombie King’s chest.

Both plunged into the ground together, dust soaring into the sky and dyeing the live broadcast screen gray.

Little Honey’s scream pierced the black screen: “Family members! Family members! The screen froze! But I heard the ground shake! Chen Fan he...”

Three seconds later, the screen lit up again.

At the edge of the deep pit, Chen Fan bent over, wiping his hands on the corner of his jacket.

Zhao Iron Pillar’s corpse floated out of the pit, the player bracelet on his wrist flashing red with the message “Soul Recycling In Progress.”

The Zombie King’s head lolled to one side, its rotten face cracked open to reveal the grayish-white mechanical core inside.

The mechanical voice of the system announcement suddenly stuttered, like an old radio submerged in water: [Player [Chen Fan] completed the [Bronze Grade - Construction Site Zombie King] First Kill... Dropped Item: Warrior class token... Critical Hit Judged... Multiplier Calculating... ??? → class token × ∞]

The interfaces of all players on the server froze simultaneously.

The announcement board in the Newbie Village was crowded, and the big shots in the Gold Zone stared at their suddenly blacked-out terminals. Forum posts were flooding in at a rate of a thousand per second: “∞? Did the system crash?” “This guy must be the embodiment of a BUG!”

Little Honey’s hand holding the phone trembled, ash clinging to her eyelashes: “Family members... I, I didn’t see wrong... it’s ∞! It really is infinity!”

Brother Dao knelt on the ground, his battle axe lying by his feet.

He stared at Chen Fan’s back, his throat tight: “Impossible... This isn't compliant...”

When the system’s forced repair notification sounded, Chen Fan was already squatting by the edge of the pit, rummaging around.

Ten class tokens radiating golden light lay in his palm, each engraved with the words “Warrior.”

He crushed nine of them, listening to the crisp shattering sound echo across the empty construction site, and pressed the last one against his brow: “Activate.”

[Class Change Successful! Obtained [Warrior Class] Exclusive Skill: Critical Fist Technique (Enhanced Version)]

The air current from his fist blast shook the surrounding rebar, causing it to crash down with a 'hualala,' and the ground cracked open in web-like patterns.

Chen Fan straightened up. The wound on his left arm had healed sometime in the meantime, leaving only a faint white scar.

He pulled off his blood-stained work jacket, draped it over his shoulder, and walked toward the construction site exit.

“Brother Chen!” Some New Players tried to approach but were yanked back by their companions.

They watched his blood-stained silhouette, their throats tight—that punch that blasted through the ground just now was enough to smash any Bronze-tier player into a patty.

The voice of the system announcement puppet suddenly sounded next to Chen Fan’s ear, an octave lower than usual: “Detecting... Data Anomaly Rate Exceeds Standard... Marked as S-Class Threat...”

Chen Fan paused his steps.

He touched the lingering bell on his chest; the object was vibrating gently along with his heartbeat.

In the distance, the lantern of the Frost Moon Teahouse swayed in the twilight, like a fire that refused to be extinguished.

He continued walking forward.

Behind him, the New Players automatically cleared a path.

The wind stirred up the dust on the ground, blurring his silhouette but clearly blowing out half a piece of paper from the pocket of his work pants—written on it in red ink were the words: “Su Shuang, Frost Moon Teahouse, Fox Demon Bloodline, frost soul.”