Chapter 499: Grand Void Illusion! Zhang Fan

In the night, on the abandoned street, plastic bags whipped by the cold wind swayed like the fates of ordinary people.

Crimson blood flowed freely, staining the three cold bodies.

A master of the Great Master realm, whose Yuan Light had already arisen and whose nature had reached perfection, was reduced to dirt and clay in Zhang Fan’s hands—his body perished, his Dao extinguished.

At this moment, Liu Fusheng was momentarily dazed.

He felt the young figure before him gradually merging with the image of the former Great Spirit Zong Wang, even surpassing it.

“The new era… has finally arrived,” Liu Fusheng sighed inwardly.

Even though he refused to admit it, he could not deny that talent emerges in every generation.

He was old; the once brilliant, youthful years had become yellowed scrolls.

Now, it was the young people’s world.

“Uncle Liu…”

At that moment, Zhang Fan walked over, his calm, gentle voice pulling Liu Fusheng back to reality.

“Xiao Fan, you’ve grown up.”

With Zhang Fan’s help, Liu Fusheng slowly rose, his gaze fixed on the young man he had watched grow up since childhood, and he sighed softly.

“I know you’ve achieved cultivation now, but you shouldn’t have come back.”

“Uncle, I’ve got so many lice I’m not worried anymore—this little bit of time won’t hurt.” Zhang Fan smiled lightly.

Liu Fusheng shook his head, speaking gravely: “Your family… you’re bound to walk the same path as your father.”

Fleeing for one’s life—such a thing was unexpected to be inherited.

“Calamity is a death sentence, but also an elixir for immortality—I don’t care.” Zhang Fan shook his head.

If his father hadn’t endured the calamities and trials of those days, how could he have earned the fearsome reputation of Great Spirit Zong Wang today?

On the path to immortality, one must transcend life and death.

Along his own journey, he had faced no shortage of trials.

“Ah…” Liu Fusheng sighed, saying no more.

“Uncle, let me take you back first. You can’t stay in Yujing—I’ll arrange for you to leave the city later.” Zhang Fan murmured.

He had returned this time to clean up these loose ends.

Liu Fusheng remained silent, leaning on Zhang Fan’s arm, stumbling back to Hongfu Huayuan.

“Huh!?”

At that moment, Zhang Fan froze, his expression dazed.

The streetlights in Hongfu Huayuan had turned on, unusually bright tonight, and many people were still moving about the compound.

Zhang Fan instinctively checked his phone—the time read: 22:23.

“Xiao Fan, you’re back from Zhenwu Mountain?”

Liu Fusheng’s voice came from beside him; he held a bag of meat buns, his face beaming with a smile, eyes brimming with unmistakable concern.

“Zhenwu Mountain?”

“Didn’t you graduate and go on a trip to Zhenwu Mountain with your childhood friend?” Liu Fusheng asked.

“Oh… right, I went to Zhenwu Mountain with Li Yishan, just got back.” Zhang Fan paused, then replied vaguely.

“Good you’re back—go rest well.” Liu Fusheng smiled, holding the buns. “Come over for dinner tomorrow.”

“Yes, Uncle Liu!”

Zhang Fan nodded and walked into the compound by himself.

“Bro, don’t jump yet—boost my livestream viewers… folks, look up at my head…”

“Do you even have humanity? Bro, listen to me—jump in the next compound, I’m planning to buy a building there.”

“The morals of society are declining… up there, are you jumping or not? I’m off duty.”

At that moment, a commotion reached Zhang Fan’s ears, drawing his gaze back—a figure stood on the rooftop nearby, and the ground below was crowded with onlookers.

“Another suicide!?” Zhang Fan muttered instinctively.

“Huh? Why did I say ‘another’?”

Zhang Fan’s expression turned strange as he stared at the building—his home was in this very building.

If someone jumped from here, the rent would drop again.

“Even if they jump again, they won’t have to pay rent.” Zhang Fan muttered silently.

“Ah…”

Suddenly, a piercing scream shattered the evening calm. Zhang Fan’s heart lurched—he looked up to see the figure on the rooftop plummeting, drawing nearer.

The next instant, a loud “thud” echoed—and the entire compound fell silent.

The onlookers who had been cheering moments ago had already fled far away; even the loudest voices were gone.

Dust mixed with the scent of blood grew thicker.

Soon, people cautiously gathered around.

“He just jumped!?” Zhang Fan was dazed, stepping forward unconsciously.

“So young—why did he jump?”

“I heard he sent out over three thousand resumes after graduation and couldn’t land a single job. Today’s youth are under too much pressure.”

“Is he a resident of this building? I think I’ve seen this guy before.”

“Exactly—he lived on the ninth floor, just graduated, I heard.”

Whispers spread among the crowd.

Zhang Fan’s heart lurched.

Ninth floor? That was his own floor.

“Fuck, he’s my neighbor?” Zhang Fan’s face changed as he pushed through the crowd.

“Does this kid have family?”

“I heard he lived alone—he even greeted me a few times. His name was…?”

“Right—Zhang Fan.”

The noisy chatter dissolved into a roar, and only that name exploded in Zhang Fan’s ears like thunder.

His eyes widened; he shoved through the crowd like a madman.

On the ground lay a lifeless figure—his bloodied, unrecognizable face still felt horrifyingly familiar.

“Me!?”

Zhang Fan cried out in shock, jolting awake—his back was soaked in sweat.

He gasped for breath…

In the old room, only his breathing and the ticking of the alarm clock could be heard.

“It was just a dream!”

Zhang Fan exhaled slowly.

He looked out the window—the sky was still dark, and a light rain had begun to fall.

At that moment, a pounding came from the neighboring wall—followed by a woman’s scream, rising and falling, intermittent, her breath growing faster and heavier, as if beaten, yet her voice begged for more, for him not to stop.

In this cheap, run-down apartment complex, this kind of game—little tadpoles searching for their mother—played out every day.

Zhang Fan lost his sleepiness, got up, and turned on the radio.

It was his habit—when he couldn’t sleep, he liked to listen to the broadcast.

“Breaking news: At 22:23 this evening, a young man fell from Hongfu Huayuan and died. The exact cause is still under investigation…”

“According to witnesses, the young man’s name is Zhang Fan, a graduate of…”

Buzz…

The radio emitted a crackling “shhhhh” sound. Zhang Fan turned his head mechanically, staring at the glowing radio, his mind roaring.

Zhang Fan lunged forward, snatched the radio, and slammed it hard—the electronic static echoed through the room, mingling with the pounding from next door.

“Hongfu Huayuan? Fell from a building?”

Zhang Fan suddenly remembered something—he reached under his pillow, pulled out his phone, opened his browser, and typed “Hongfu Huayuan.”

Instantly, the latest news popped up—a blurry photo appeared.

In front of Building 73, a stretcher was being carried away; on it lay a body covered in a white sheet, one hand dangling out.

Zhang Fan stared at the photo—his pupils shrank, his scalp prickled.

He couldn’t believe it.

“Dad’s dad is a demon, dad’s mom is a demon…”

At that moment, a shrill phone ring shattered Zhang Fan’s thoughts.

He looked down at the caller ID:

Li Yishan!?

After a brief hesitation, Zhang Fan answered the call.

“Old Zhang, did you see the news?”