Chapter 324: The Goal Grows Clearer

Zhang Wei's mental defense, under the gaze of those two hollow eye sockets, shattered more cleanly than the concrete beneath his feet.

He doesn't want to die.

The moment that thought exploded in his mind, he aimed the Seal of Domination at Lin Fan.

Red light spread from the seal, hurtling straight toward Lin Fan, who stood on the water's surface.

The air was compressed by that force into a buzzing hum; Zhang Wei's pallid hair flared backward, his eyes bloodshot to the limit, and ten fingers, flesh turning white, clutched the seal tightly without release.

He wagered all his chips on this single strike.

As long as he could control that kid, even just to interfere with him a bit......!

The red light reached three meters in front of Lin Fan's body.

Then it stopped.

It wasn't blocked; it was devoured.

The black hairs spread across the water's surface stood up in unison, like cat fur stimulated, and grew wildly toward the source of the red light.

The mental shockwave began to disintegrate, split, and be twisted and devoured strand by strand the instant it touched the hairs.

Zhang Wei's eyeballs bulged outward in a circle.

The seal's red light went out.

In its place, he was struck by the backlash of that power.

"Aaaah—"

Zhang Wei knelt on the broken slab fragments, his Nail digging into his own temple as he pulled downward.

Lin Fan didn't look at him.

He lowered his head and glanced at the water's surface.

Below the water, the overwhelming black hair had already moved.

Dozens of thick hairs shot out from the Black Water beneath Zhang Wei's feet, piercing his arms and legs with precision.

Four muffled booms exploded almost simultaneously.

When those hairs passed through muscle and bone, they didn't bring blood—rather a dark red ice shrapnel frozen by extreme cold, shattering in the air and crackling down to the ground.

Zhang Wei's scream got stuck in his throat, leaving only a hoarse "hohoho" sound.

His limbs were nailed by the hairs, and his whole body went limp like a puppet with its strings cut. The black hair stretched taut, pulling him away from the slab edge, dragging him across the water's surface, leaving long ripples in the Black Water.

Finally, with a muffled "bang," Zhang Wei was slammed beneath Lin Fan's feet.

Face down.

His pallid hair spread on the Black Water, forming a ring like a jellyfish's Tentacle.

Lin Fan lowered his head.

His left eye was clear, his right eye a deep blue.

He looked at the man at his feet who, three minutes earlier, had claimed to be a god.

Lying on the water's surface, his limbs splayed at unnatural angles, the pierced wounds exhaling thin threads of white cold, his whole body resembling a half a slab of pork dragged out of a cold storage.

"You said you are a person close to a god."

Lin Fan's voice was flat, without any inflection.

"Then guess—does a god fear death?"

Zhang Wei strained to lift his head. His eyeballs were blood‑red, his pupils dilated. His mouth opened and closed, trying to speak, but only a few wet bubbles forced out from his throat.

Lin Fan showed no intention of waiting for his answer.

A deep blue flame in his right eye suddenly flared, the blue light casting his half‑face in alternating light and shadow.

No need to speak.

No need for action.

He only thought it in his mind.

The black hair contracted.

A crisp sound rang especially loud in the silent ruins—not metal clashing, not glass shattering.

It was the sound of a broken neck vertebra.

Bone fragments burst outward, mixing with frozen blood‑ice shards that struck the water's surface. Zhang Wei's pallid‑hair head flew off his neck in one piece, spun one and a half turns, and with a "plop" fell into the Black Water.

The water's surface rippled twice.

Then it was gone.

The headless corpse twitched on the water for a few seconds, its legs kicking twice, then fell silent.

From start to finish, Lin Fan said not a single word.

The words that should have been spoken, Zhang Wei had already said enough himself.

The ruins fell quiet.

Only the faint crackle of cold vapor rising from the Black Water and the unsettling glow cast by the distant red moon remained.

Lin Fan crouched down.

His hand reached toward Zhang Wei's headless corpse. As his fingertips touched the jacket soaked through with blood and sewage, a glaring red light flared at the chest area—a thumb‑sized crimson crystal seeping out from the dead man's thorax.

The Divine Gift automatically detaches the moment its host is lost.

Lin Fan pinched the still‑warm red crystal with two fingers, glanced at it under the moonlight, and slipped it into his pocket.

Then the seal.

The Seal of Domination rolled onto the water's surface, its dark‑red pattern already faded by more than half.

Lin Fan also picked it up.

Three items.

With the copper ring on his finger, he now holds three Divine Gifts in his hand.

The Black Water beneath his feet begins to recede.

Slowly, silently, like a film rewinding. The pitch‑black water surface contracts from the ruins' edge toward Lin Fan's feet, revealing gray‑white rubble and deformed Reinforced Steel Bars where it flows. The decomposed wreckage on the bottom—Mutant bone fragments, slave flesh frozen into ice—gradually emerges as the water recedes, covering the ground.

When the Black Water fully disappears, the ruins revert to their original state.

Only a field of broken ice and debris remains.

Ling Xinyu's ghost‑girl form begins to dissipate as the water recedes.

The sallow, swollen skin sheds its deathly hue, returning to a healthy maiden's complexion. The black‑hole sockets that wept blood‑tears grow new eyeballs—a pair of large, bright, clear eyes with the faint pinkness after crying. The bruised chokehold mark on her neck fades to near invisibility. The overwhelming wet black hair contracts, gathering at the back into a neat high ponytail.

A white T‑shirt, jeans.

The girl from next door has returned.

Xin Yu lowers her head, fingers anxiously twining, standing a half‑step away from Lin Fan's side.

Lin Fan shoves the items in his pocket haphazardly and turns around.

He sees her.

It's not the ghost‑girl form, not the terrifying hair covering the ruins, not the hollow blood‑tear sockets.

It's the girl with a high ponytail, wearing a white T‑shirt, who would tiptoe at the school gate to wave when he gets out of class.

The pain in his chest makes Lin Fan furrow his brows.

The three Divine Gifts clash inside him. The copper ring's environmental rewriting power, the red crystal's pure energy, and the Seal of Domination's mental rules—three entirely different forces collide, repel, and tear at his soul.

That feeling isn't pain.

It's as if three hooks from different directions pull his soul outward, each trying to tear him into fragments.

Lin Fan bites his tongue. A rust taste spreads in his mouth, dampening the maddening tearing sensation by a third.

He extends his hand.

Both hands tremble. Not from fear, but a physiological shake—muscles and bones, battered by the threefold force, no longer obey him well.

Yet he still steadily cups Xin Yu's face.

"Does it hurt?"

Xin Yu lifts her hand toward Lin Fan's chest—the convergence point of the three Divine Gifts—feeling, even through the clothes, an abnormal scorching heat.

"Just a minor wound."

Even though the pain makes his hands unsteady, he still tries to act heroic. It's exactly like when, after a high‑school fight, he told her "just a scratch."

Xin Yu stares at him for three seconds.

Then her hand slips from Lin Fan's palm, wraps around his back, and encircles his waist.

Her face presses against his shoulder.

Her forehead rests on the back of his neck.

It's icy cold.

At that moment Lin Fan's muscles relax. His soul, nearly torn apart by the three forces, feels as if something solid finally catches it the instant she presses against him.

It's not any Rule Power.

It's simply that she's there.

She's there; he can't fall apart.

They stand among the broken ice and debris for a long time—long enough for the Red Moon to shift its angle.

Finally, Lin Fan speaks first.

"Xin Yu."

The person behind him hums, a muffled sound against his shoulder, soft.

"I'll make you live again."

The person pressed to his back freezes for a moment.

Lin Fan pulls a phone from his pocket. The screen is more than half shattered, but the Radar interface of the Blood Moon game still works. On the dark‑red map, fourteen red dots—several already eliminated—drift slowly.

Each red dot represents a Divine Gift.

Each Divine Gift is a human life.

But Lin Fan recalls Zhang Wei—the madman who uses living people as cannon fodder and delights in trampling others. He also remembers the two wild manipulators he met earlier, who would kill him the moment they met to extend their own lives.

Among the holders in this game, few are good people.

Since those opposite him are all that sort, clearing them carries no psychological burden.

Lin Fan turns off the phone screen and stuffs it back into his pocket.

The pale blue flame in his right eye flickers in the darkness, brighter and steadier than before.

Behind him, Xin Yu's arm tightens a bit. She understands.

Lin Fan steps forward.

The soles crunch over broken ice and concrete debris, producing tiny crackling sounds.

He walks toward the outer perimeter of the ruins.

The direction: due north.

On the Radar, three red dots still flash in that direction.

Initially forced into this game, Lin Fan's goal becomes increasingly clear.

He intends to resurrect Ling Xinyu.