22: Chapter 22 The Ghost's Past, Temporary Alliance

The aftermath of the nightclub's chaos hadn't fully dissipated, and shards of broken glass glittered with a cold light under the neon signs. Lin Fan stumbled, pushing himself up from the bar. The rage and fear churning in his chest were still roiling; that roar just now had exhausted most of his strength. His throat felt blocked by a lump of burning charcoal, dry and painful. He braced himself against the cold edge of the bar, looking down at his trembling fingertips. The veins on his forehead pulsed. The chaotic feeling of reality and virtuality intertwining hit his sanity like waves. The bartender's words, "This place is fake," still swirled in his ears like a curse, tightly gripping his neck.

The music in the dance hall was still deafening, and the twisting figures in his eyes distorted into blurred, ghostly faces. The acrid smell of alcohol mixed with perfume drilled into his nasal cavity, making his stomach churn violently. He turned sharply to the side, bracing against the wall and dry-heaving, but nothing came out, only sour bile burning his throat. Just then, a sudden, great force struck him from behind, slamming him hard against the cold, hard wall. He didn't even have time to let out a gasp before he was pressed firmly against the wall.

The cold sensation spread along his spine, instantly piercing his thin shirt and making him shiver all over. Immediately after, a sharp dagger pressed against his neck. The cold, metallic chill against his skin made his hair stand on end. He could clearly feel the tip of the dagger piercing the surface of his skin, and a thin line of warm blood slowly slid down his neck, bringing a sharp, stinging pain.

"Don't move."

A hoarse, low voice sounded in his ear, carrying a thick scent of blood and gunpowder, as if it had been soaked in a battlefield a thousand times. Every word was tempered with shards of ice. Lin Fan's pupils contracted sharply. He tried desperately to turn his head, but his back was held firmly by a hand like an iron clamp. His cheek was forced against the rough wall, scraping his skin until it hurt. He could only see, through the corner of his eye, a face covered by a black mask, with only a pair of eyes exposed.

What a pair of eyes they were.

There was no temperature at all, like ten-thousand-year-old ice. Inside, there was a nearly destructive madness, and bottomless despair. The madness was like a wildfire that could burn everything to ashes, while the despair was like a lonely soul falling into an abyss, carrying a kind of broken tragedy. Lin Fan's heart shrank violently. He could feel the dagger at his neck trembling slightly, and the hand holding the dagger was also shaking uncontrollably.

"Who are you..." Lin Fan's voice was terribly hoarse, carrying a hint of imperceptible trembling. He could feel the killing intent radiating from the person behind him. It wasn't the posturing of the thugs in the virtual world, but an aura from hell that had truly been stained with blood.

"Who am I?" The person seemed to have heard some great joke and let out a low laugh, but there was no warmth in the laughter, only endless desolation. "I am Ghost. I am the ghost buried by Victor himself, climbing out of hell to claim his life!"

Ghost? This name was like a bolt of lightning, splitting Lin Fan's chaotic thoughts. He suddenly remembered the mission issued by the system earlier, the bounty on Victor, and the legends about Ghost that circulated in the dark—a mysterious assassin who specialized in hunting down Victor's subordinates, ruthless yet unfathomable.

"Victor killed my comrades," Ghost's voice suddenly became sharp, and the hand holding the dagger added a bit more force. The stinging pain on Lin Fan's neck became more obvious, and blood flowed faster. "He killed them and threw their corpses into the Data Abyss, leaving not even a trace! Now, it's your turn."

"I have no grudge against Victor!" Lin Fan struggled desperately, but was pressed even tighter by Ghost. The tip of the dagger was almost piercing his throat. "You found the wrong person!"

"Wrong person?" Ghost sneered, his crazy eyes staring fixedly at Lin Fan's side profile, as if he wanted to devour him alive. "Victor treated you as a pawn, as a toy in his game. Do you think you can escape? Either help me kill Victor, or die right now."

Lin Fan's heart pounded wildly. He looked at Ghost's bloodshot eyes, the madness and despair in them almost overflowing. He didn't doubt for a second that if he said "no," this dagger would slice his throat without hesitation. He remembered the fleeting image of the hospital, Kate's anxious face, and his own confused identity—he didn't want to die, whether in the virtual world or the real world, he didn't want to die like this, without knowing why.

"How do you want me to help you?" Lin Fan's voice carried a hint of compromise, but more of it was unwillingness and anger. He hated this feeling of being coerced, hated this powerlessness of being at the mercy of others, just as he hated the system that controlled everything, and hated the high-and-mighty Victor.

A flash of imperceptible loosening flickered in Ghost's eyes, and the dagger at Lin Fan's neck eased slightly. He released his hand from the back of Lin Fan's head and shoved him aside. Lin Fan stumbled back a few steps, clutching the wound on his neck, looking at the man in front of him with lingering fear.

Ghost slowly raised his hand and pulled off the black mask on his face.

Revealed was a face full of scars. A hideous scar stretched from his forehead to his chin, like an ugly centipede crawling on his face. The left side of his face was almost covered by scars, and his originally handsome features now looked particularly terrifying. But what was most shocking were his eyes; even after taking off the mask, the madness and despair in them hadn't diminished in the slightest.

Ghost ignored Lin Fan's scrutiny. He took out a small holographic projection device from his chest and smashed it hard on the ground. The device made a slight buzzing sound, and a blue light was instantly projected, forming a clear image in mid-air.

In the image, it was a battlefield filled with smoke. Broken walls, ruins, and artillery fire were everywhere. Soldiers wearing uniform combat gear shuttled through the ruins, their faces filled with firm smiles, helping each other, encouraging each other. The camera in the image slowly zoomed in, landing on a few young soldiers. They were sitting together, sharing a piece of dry bread, their faces full of youthful vitality. One of the soldiers had exactly the same features as Ghost, only his face didn't have those hideous scars, and his smile was as clean as a child's.

"They were my comrades," Ghost's voice was terribly hoarse, as if it had been ground by sandpaper. He stared fixedly at the scene in the holographic projection, his eyes filled with tenderness and endless pain. "We were a special forces team trained by Victor himself, codenamed 'Razor'. We went through fire and water for him, cleared all obstacles for him. We thought we were the people he trusted most."

The scene in the image suddenly changed.

The once warm scene instantly turned into purgatory. The artillery fire became more intense, and bullets fell like raindrops. Those young soldiers fell in pools of blood. Their bodies were torn apart by artillery fire, and blood stained the entire land red. Standing opposite them was another squad of soldiers wearing black combat gear. Their faces had no expression, like a group of cold machines. And behind those soldiers stood a man in an expensive suit, his hands behind his back, a look of contempt on his face.

That man was Victor.

Victor in the image slowly raised his hand and waved it lightly at the soldiers who were still struggling on the ground. Immediately after, those soldiers in black combat gear raised their guns and pulled the triggers without hesitation at their former comrades.

"Bang! Bang! Bang!"

The sound of gunfire echoed in the narrow space, piercing the eardrums painfully.

At the end of the image, Victor slowly walked up to the soldier who looked exactly like Ghost. That soldier was on his last breath. He looked at Victor, his eyes filled with confusion and despair. He opened his mouth, seeming to want to say something, but only spat out a mouthful of blood. Victor squatted down, patted his cheek, his voice cold and cruel: "Razor? Just a dog I raised. Useless dogs should be disposed of."

After speaking, he stood up and coldly ordered his subordinates beside him: "Throw their corpses into the Data Abyss and delete them completely. I don't want to see any trace of the 'Razor' squad again."

The image stopped abruptly here. The blue light vanished instantly, leaving only the holographic projection device on the ground flickering with a weak light.

Ghost stared fixedly at the device on the ground, his shoulders trembling violently. His hands were clenched into fists, his knuckles turning white from the force, even seeping blood. His lips trembled, and it took a long while for him to squeeze out a sentence, his voice so hoarse it was almost inaudible: "They don't even have a tombstone... Even the traces of their existence were completely erased by Victor..."

Lin Fan stood to the side, feeling cold all over. He looked at the scene in the holographic projection, looked at those young soldiers falling in pools of blood, looked at Victor's cruel face, and a wave of anger suddenly surged from the bottom of his heart, burning his whole body hot. He remembered the days he was controlled by the system, remembered himself in the virtual world, like a puppet, manipulated by others. He remembered the crack in the real world earlier, and his own confused identity.

He and Ghost were actually the same kind of people.

Both were manipulated pawns, both were oppressed prey.

Just then, two rapid sets of footsteps suddenly came from outside the door. Immediately after, Franklin and Michael rushed in one after another. Franklin was holding a gun in his hand. As soon as he entered, he saw Ghost standing there, his eyes instantly becoming vigilant. He raised his gun without hesitation, aimed it at Ghost, his finger on the trigger, and shouted sharply: "Who the fuck are you? Drop the weapon!"

Ghost slowly raised his head and looked at Franklin. A hint of mockery flashed in those eyes filled with madness and despair. He didn't put down the dagger in his hand; instead, he gripped it even tighter.

"Franklin, don't be impulsive!" Michael quickly stepped forward and held down Franklin's hand. He looked at Ghost, then at the holographic projection device on the ground, and finally at the wound on Lin Fan's neck. His eyes were filled with gravity. "He has no malice."

"No malice?" Franklin violently shook off Michael's hand and roared, "He's holding a dagger to Lin Fan's throat! You're telling me he has no malice? Michael, are you fucking crazy!"

"I am crazy." Ghost suddenly spoke, his voice carrying a hint of strange amusement. He slowly turned around and looked at Franklin and Michael, the madness in his eyes growing more intense. "You think you've survived under Victor's nose until now because you're smart enough? Powerful enough?"

He sneered, his laughter growing louder and more shrill. As he laughed, tears suddenly slid from the corners of his eyes, flowing slowly down the hideous scars on his face like black streams.

"You think Victor is just a gang boss?"

Ghost's laughter stopped abruptly. He suddenly raised his voice, as if roaring, or perhaps crying. The sound pierced through the noise of the nightclub, pierced through the barrier of the virtual world, carrying a kind of tragic despair, slamming hard into everyone's heart.

"He is the 'God' of this world!"

This sentence was like a thunderclap, exploding in the narrow space.

Franklin's pupils contracted sharply, and his hand holding the gun trembled slightly. Michael's face turned pale instantly. He stared blankly at Ghost, his lips trembling, but he couldn't say a word.

Lin Fan's heart shrank violently. This sentence seemed to confirm his deepest fear. He thought of the system's existence, thought of those controlled NPCs, and thought of his own uncontrollable destiny.

Victor is the God of this world.

He controls everything in this virtual world, controls the life and death of everyone. He can create a person at will, and he can also destroy a person at will. He could completely erase the "Razor" squad, and he could also treat Lin Fan as a pawn, playing him in the palm of his hand.

Ghost looked at the three men's shocked expressions, a smile of near-madness appearing on his face. He slowly lowered the dagger in his hand, the tip pointing down, resting on the cold ground. His body was still trembling slightly, and tears were still flowing continuously, but in those eyes, a weak flame ignited.

"Now, tell me," Ghost's voice was hoarse and firm. He looked at Lin Fan, looked at Franklin, looked at Michael, and said word by word, "Do you want to continue being Victor's toys, waiting to be completely deleted by him? Or do you want to kill this 'God' with me and take back the destiny that belongs to you?"

The air froze instantly.

The nightclub music continued, but it seemed exceptionally distant. The neon light shone through the broken windows onto the four people, casting long, twisted shadows.

Lin Fan looked at Ghost's bloodshot eyes, looked at the scars on his face, looked at the holographic projection device on the ground. He thought of the comrades who were wiped out by Victor, thought of his own confused identity, and thought of Kate's anxious face.

A flame of anger suddenly surged from the bottom of his heart, burning through his limbs and bones.

He slowly raised his head and looked at Ghost, his eyes filled with determination.

"I'll help you."

Franklin looked at Lin Fan, then at Ghost, and slowly lowered his gun-holding hand. He gritted his teeth, a look of resolution appearing on his face: "Fuck! I've had enough of Victor's bullshit! Count me in!"

Michael looked at the three people in front of him, a relieved smile appearing on his face. He patted Franklin's shoulder, then patted Lin Fan's shoulder, his eyes filled with determination: "The four of us, let's do it together!"

Ghost looked at the three people in front of him, and a glimmer of light finally flashed in those eyes filled with madness and despair. He slowly reached out his hand, palm facing up.

Lin Fan reached out without hesitation and gripped Ghost's hand. Franklin and Michael also reached out one after another, and four hands tightly gripped together.

The warmth of their palms passed to each other.

Anger and tragedy intertwined, condensing into an indestructible force in the narrow space.

They were oppressed pawns, hunted prey, ghosts that had crawled out of hell.

But from this moment on, they would join forces to challenge the "God" of this world.

The neon lights outside the nightclub were still flashing. But no one knew that a storm capable of overturning the entire virtual world had already quietly brewed.