Chapter 645: Corridors of Madness

That sash, as if symbolizing death, would annihilate anything the moment it touched it.

Yet despite the brutal force laced with black particles, the three Black-Robed Priests — arranged in a tight triangle with two at the base and one at the top — remained completely unfazed. The one at the apex slightly raised his head, revealing the pale half of his face beneath his hood.

In the next moment, he extended his two withered, pallid palms and yanked hard, tearing his black robe open right down the middle.

Beneath the robe lay his body, but when the fabric was ripped apart, it revealed nothing but a dark void, its destination unknown.

“Whoosh…”

Then, as if driven by despair, ghastly pale worm-like creatures began to squeeze out from within; countless pallid mental entities emerged from the torn robe.

One after another.

Each resembled a human form, displaying a variety of expressions ranging from grotesque to agonized. In a surge of hundreds, they rushed forward, colliding mid-air with the shadow that bore the black particles.

“Crash, crash…”

It was reminiscent of the clash Lu Xin had once endured against the Hell Regiment.

The endless stream of pale mental entities flew out relentlessly, colliding with the shadow.

In an instant, they were dissolved—obliterated.

Yet the ceaseless flow of these mental entities pressed forward, preventing the black shadow from advancing further.

“Ah…”

The opposing forces seemed to be hurled upward with each violent impact.

A piercing roar rent through the air of the deep pit factory like the cry of a wounded beast.

Strands of innumerable mental turbulence dispersed through the thick atmosphere.

They forcefully surged into the surrounding air, intensifying the pressure with every moment.

The entire underground deep pit seemed to transform into a vast ocean of mental turmoil.

It was as though the very cave had plunged into the deep sea, its space filled with the crushing pressure of dreadful, abyssal water.

This scene starkly echoed the mental aberration Lu Xin had experienced while ambushing the Technology Church in Happy Town.

Only now, in a far more confined space, the pressure of the mental turbulence was even greater.

…

…

“You are already dead; life chases after the light before you…”

While one of the Black-Robed Priests unleashed an endless stream of pale mental entities to stave off the relentless advance of the black shadow, the other two standing at the triangle’s base simultaneously began distinct actions. One of them started to pray.

From beneath his hood came a deep, almost subterranean voice that resonated hauntingly.

Lu Xin didn’t want to listen.

Yet as his voice echoed, the surrounding mental turbulence vibrated with an eerie rhythm.

His own voice was forcefully channeled into his ears.

For a moment, he even experienced an illusion—as if he were lying on a soft bed in indescribable darkness, his body weighed down beyond measure, with only a beam of white light floating before him as a beacon out of the abyss.

Instinctively, he shot upward, chasing that sliver of white light.

As the light drew nearer, his heart had already ceased to beat; even his blood seemed on the verge of halting its flow.

“Swish!”

But just as he felt himself sink, he abruptly flung his eyes open.

“What is this?”

An uncanny sensation washed over him; he had never encountered such a power before. Yet he sensed danger.

A black bag clamped between his teeth, he swiftly reached in, desperately searching for a way to counter it.

“What?”

At the very instant Lu Xin’s focus wavered, the adversary’s eyes flew open in shock.

Then, one of the Black-Robed Priests, suspended in mid-air, began to tap his fingers with lightning speed, as if performing a ritual.

In the next moment, amidst the boundless mental turbulence, strands of black chains began to materialize.

Upon closer inspection, these black chains were actually a tangle of hands, each about the size of a fist.

They pulsed with their own life force, instantly climbing onto the dilapidated platform on either side before constricting around Lu Xin’s legs like a coiling serpent. The immense force nearly dragged him down, and then, from his ankles, the chains began to spread.

“Huh?”

Lu Xin frowned slightly at that moment.

The black shadow on his body was on the verge of descending, threatening to tear the chains apart.

A part of the black shadow split off in an instant, engulfing the chain formed by the skeletal hands. Yet in the next moment, as the shadow receded, the chains remained intact, still coiling around his legs, though their expansion had halted.

“No good… These chains aren’t their attack on you…”

“It’s you…”

“Your legs are already dead, bound by the infernal rules…”

“…”

A voice filled with a mix of anger and shock—his Father’s—rang out.

“Are my legs dead?”

Lu Xin looked on in bewilderment, not fully comprehending the meaning of those words.

In the next moment, the voice of the Black-Robed Priest from across spoke again: “Your body lies entombed in the soil.”

“The weeping of your loved ones echoes in your ears…”

“…”

As his voice reverberated, the surrounding mental turbulence miraculously coalesced into vivid images.

The world around him turned upside down. He felt as though he were lying in a deep pit, cradling a bouquet of white flowers in his hands.

From his perspective, by the edge of the pit, someone watched him silently, their voice a soft lament.

Teacher Xiao Lu, Doll, Chen Jing, Han Bing…

“Huh?”

Why were they all women?

As these thoughts raced through him, by the pit’s edge, Gecko, Vice President Xiao, Professor Bai, Manager Liu, the old man who sold breakfast downstairs—all holding a scalpel with a lighter in hand—and even the Village Chief he had encountered earlier in the chaos at Flame Company, appeared…

…No, wait. Why did Gecko seem to be smirking?

“Swish!”

Once again, Lu Xin abruptly opened his eyes. The hallucination vanished instantly, replaced by his Father’s roaring anger in his ears:

“They are influencing you. Snap out of it…”

Lu Xin felt a surge of anger. Didn’t he know the stakes of danger?

He tried to move, yet his will to do so activated his body—only for him to remain utterly still…

Glimpsing down, he suddenly saw that those very black chains had now bound around his chest.

“What kind of damned power is this?”

Lu Xin was irked; everything felt absurdly bizarre.

It had been a long time since he last felt something so eerie.

Facing these three priests was even more terrifying than contending with the Hell Regiment.

Back then, all he had to face was the Hell Regiment, but these three priests operated with distinct roles.

It was as if they had calculated every reaction, each movement meticulously designed to restrain him…

Connecting his mind to that central mechanical tree, they siphoned infinite mental power to counter him.

And using their varied abilities, they launched sneak attacks on him.

In just a brief encounter, he could feel the sheer madness in these priests.

Who among normal people would willingly allow mechanical tentacles to pierce through the back of their head?

Have these people lost their minds?

Or is it because Flame Company and the Black Box Organization—driven by their fervent belief in True Hometown—have one madman after another, that they dare to conduct limitless experiments, enabling them to rapidly develop methods to harness tremendous power, forging one formidable Ability User after another?

…

…

At the same moment, the three priests in midair began to show signs of panic.

They hadn’t expected Lu Xin to awaken once more.

Moreover, the relentless assault of the black-robed shadow nearly pushed them to the brink of collapse, but they gritted their teeth and endured. After all, they realized that at this moment, they were engaged in a war of attrition with Lu Xin — each trying to inflict the most damage first.

“You…”

The priest’s voice even trembled slightly before steadying, regaining its deep, resonant tone with a forceful will:

“You recalled the past, only to let it fade like shadows…”

“Your heart may harbor regrets, but they pale in comparison to the eternal serenity that awaits…”

“The one you loved most scooped up the first handful of earth, sprinkling it lightly over you…”

“…”

Suddenly, Lu Xin sensed that the mental turbulence around him had quieted considerably.

As uncontrolled memories flooded his mind, he involuntarily witnessed that ghostly vision once more.

He saw a figure—undoubtedly a woman—squatting at the edge of a pit, tears glistening on her face as she cradled a handful of soil, slowly letting it fall upon him. Was she the one he loved most?

…What on earth does she look like?

“Soil buries your body, and the earth guards your eternal peace…”

“And your soul lies in the Styx, accompanied by perpetual silence as it drifts into the depths of the starry expanse…”

“…”

The adversary’s voice seemed to quicken its pace imperceptibly.

The surrounding mental turbulence grew ever stronger, and so did the enemy’s power.

It appeared as though they had completely overwhelmed Lu Xin, for he remained utterly inert, lost in a stupor.

“What are you doing?”

Beside him, Xia Chong shouted loudly.

The mental turbulence was overwhelmingly intense, each strand exuding a violent energy.

For her, unable to breach the abyss or summon mental creatures, it was as though she had suffered several levels of setback.

Yet still, her innate ability to enter the abyss allowed her to muster enough spirit to cry out at the top of her lungs.

In her view, Lu Xin still extended his arms, standing as a barrier before her, completely immobile.

Letting the ferocious mental force envelop him…

…

…

At the same time, the priests’ chanting grew increasingly ethereal, as if they were drifting away from this world.

“The traces you left among humans have been erased by death…”

“Your belongings have been taken by those you miss, and your legacy remains with the one you love…”

“You…”

“…”

The priest’s voice, akin to a grand chant—deep, sorrowful, yet laced with a hint of calm—echoed around him.

Only a slight acceleration could be detected.

And when, with heartfelt emotion, he reached the pivotal moment that was to conclude the chant, his voice suddenly went hoarse. The word “you” echoed several times, as if his throat were constricted, unable to articulate it.

“What’s wrong with you?”

The priests beside him, nearly at their breaking point, could no longer hold back and whispered in concern.

The chanting priest’s expression turned anxious; after a brief pause, he murmured, “I don’t know why…”

“When it comes to the legacy, everything just falls apart…”