Chapter 822: Trials of Despair and Defiance

Kill him, kill him, kill him…

Destroy everything, destroy everything—destroy every defiled gaze…

…

On one side, an anger that refused to dissipate; on the other, a cold, sinister provocation that faced that anger head-on.

This set off an unceasing eruption of black particles around Lu Xin’s body.

They seemed to have ascended countless layers, reaching realms never before touched; meanwhile, the maddening mutterings in his mind became utterly chaotic, nearly drowning his consciousness—leaving him like a wild, uncontrollable monster.

Almost no one dared to look directly that way.

Thus, no one could see the faint glimmer appearing in Lu Xin’s mind.

It was the inhibitor hidden in his head, its power pushed to its utmost limit.

“Something’s wrong, something’s wrong…”

In the midst of battle, Doctor An could only clutch his head helplessly, his mind in disarray while his heart screamed out.

A dangerous premonition’s aura gripped her heart.

What is happening…

She had merely planned for the Tyrant to strike, to wipe out these haughty, cold-blooded First Researchers.

But now that the Tyrant had truly acted—displaying his most frenzied side—she was suddenly overcome with deep worry.

“The Keeper of Fate’s Prophecy…”

Elsewhere, Director Xue, having fled behind the Circus, silently bowed his head.

He dared not face the battlefield directly, yet he could sense its shifting tides, filling him with endless apprehension…

“Can the prophecy succeed?”

“That glimmer of hope you mentioned—can it endure?”

…

…

“Director, then…what exactly happened over there?”

At that very moment, in the distant Sleeping Mountains, Number Seven felt a spine-chilling dread.

Her voice wavered as she cried out in terror.

“The birth of a new god…”

The Old Director murmured, “And the failure of the trial…”

…

…

The failure of the trial…

When Number Seven heard the Old Director utter the word ‘trial,’ her heart pounded as she remembered that she had personally delivered Lu Xin’s test paper—even though many aspects of his trial had been orchestrated by her, she still couldn’t fathom where the Old Director’s trial would ultimately lead or what it would spawn…

All she knew was that every one of the Old Director’s trials was a gamble.

Even in his past conversations with a certain presence, he admitted that his bets were always slim.

Success meant only a slight advancement.

But failure could very well cost the entire world…

…

…

“The Trial of the Heart is the most crucial trial.”

The Old Director seemed to sense the terror in Number Seven’s heart, sighing softly. Yet when discussing this matter, his usual calm and confidence waned, revealing a more human side: “As you heard, the First Researcher once asked me about the contents of the seven trials. I told them everything—though I did pepper in a few lies.”

“To you, the Trial of the Heart might seem like it only tests whether someone has truly become human?”

“But what really defines a person?”

“Can that be determined by a simple trial?”

The Old Director sighed quietly and explained, “In my view, he’s always been human—a naturally gentle and kind child—yet he’s been deeply tainted by mental pollution and overwhelming pressure that have warped his thoughts and actions…”

“He’s simply an unfortunate child…”

“From the moment he was born, he had no choice; tainted and molded into a container of wrath…”

…

Listening to the Old Director, Number Seven felt a painful contraction within her, overwhelmed by an indescribable mix of envy and even jealousy.

When will…

When will the Old Director speak to me like this…

When will he treat me the way he treats Number Nine?

“So…”

Her voice husky and low, she asked, “What exactly is the Trial of the Heart?”

“I’ve already laid the answer out in the question; it’s just that this world has too many fools to understand it,” came the reply.

The Old Director sighed and said softly, “The Trial of the Heart is simply about whether he can preserve his inner self.”

“It tests whether he can withstand the contamination of the ‘Primordial’ and retain his humanity as a pollution entity.”

“Otherwise, he’ll only be a part of the ‘Primordial’—a prison built by the First Research Institute to contain the spiritual force of the ‘Primordial’ leaking into reality. He’ll lose his humanity, controlled solely by anger—becoming a tyrant of destruction.”

“You may call him by any name you wish, but he will never truly be himself.”

…

The Old Director sighed again, his voice gentle: “We often grow infinitely close to someone, absorbing their ideals, their emotions—even their memories and hatred. We feel powerful and proud fueled by their strength, though sometimes it’s nothing more than a counterfeit. But on another level…”

“How can we really know if we’ve gained their power or merely become a part of them?”

…

As he spoke, he fixed Number Seven with a quiet, laden gaze, as if hiding further emotions.

But Number Seven only heard his plain words, her eyes widening in fear:

“Will he… become the Primordial, or…?”

…

The Old Director shook his head wearily and murmured, “The Primordial is locked away in the Abyss.”

“And Lu Tianming has long been dead…”

“Only his obsession remains—his wrath and the all-consuming fixation on destruction.”

“And such an obsession is beyond the comprehension of those First Researchers who control the fate of the world…”

“Anger is futile—it only gets used against you.”

“Which is why we can only harness the power of the ‘Primordial’ but never pin our hopes on it.”

…

“Primordial… Primordial…”

Muttering those two words, Number Seven’s inner turmoil surged like a raging tide.

Defiant as always, hearing those words sent a deep chill through her: “To oppose the Primordial as a pollution entity…”

“How could that ever be possible?”

“You…”

…

The Old Director, as if anticipating her words, shook his head gently and said, “I’ve made some arrangements.”

“But even my arrangements are only meant to remind him; the true battle must be fought by him alone.”

“His entire life has been a struggle against pollution—to avoid being devoured by it…”

“Essentially, he’s no different from any other polluted individual.”

“Only that the contamination he fights is a tad stronger…”

…

…

“Beep, beep, beep, beep—”

At that moment, layer upon layer of black particles had completely breached into a terrifying new level.

Inside Lu Xin’s mind, a mechanical sound suddenly issued its final warning.

He didn’t know when he had acquired such formidable power.

The black particles had always been his greatest reliance.

When facing a formidable opponent, he’d always bemoaned that his power was insufficient.

For instance, as he desperately aimed to utterly annihilate the man in the black clerical robe before him…

And the black particles certainly did not disappoint him.

Lu Xin wasn’t sure whether it was the spiritual force left by Lu Tianming in the Ruined Research Institute at work…

Or the resonance from the ‘Primordial’ climbing one level in the Abyss that had just bolstered him.

Or perhaps it was the surge of power gained after slaying so many of the Tyrant Legion.

In any case, he felt his strength escalating limitlessly.

The power of Nothingness was truly formidable.

That girl with long white hair and an expressionless face seemed capable of withstanding any force.

Yet he faintly sensed that he could utterly crush her.

Just a bit more, and he could defeat her, then kill that detestable man hiding under her protection…

Just a little more…

Buzz…

A very strange sensation surged through Lu Xin’s mind.

As he launched his furious assault, his brain was relentlessly filled with endless mutterings.

It was as if ten thousand flies were buzzing chaotically.

This chaotic, vexing feeling kept intensifying, surging relentlessly until it gradually numbed him.

Amidst the overwhelming chaos and torment, he strangely found a sense of calm.

Suddenly, he saw the past—a passage linking countless memories.

At the passage’s end, there was a shadow wearing a crown.

It sat quietly deep within the ruined palace, calmly watching him.

As if through that gaze, an unimaginable power was transmitted to him.

Generous and potent, in the moment he most needed strength, he longed for even more.

“Swish…”

A fleeting glimpse made Lu Xin briefly regain a shred of lucidity amid his frenzy.

That same gaze he had seen so many times before.

It was the very gaze that had once helped him shatter the already-dead Sword-Bearer.

It was also the gaze that gave him the upper hand in his earlier clash with the Fire-Thief.

But then, he suddenly realized he was too close to that gaze.

Close enough that its owner seemed to have materialized right before him—as if he could reach out and touch him…

“Do you want to destroy him?”

“Accept your identity. Accept me, and you can do it…”

“…”

Layers of mental turbulence surged into Lu Xin’s mind, and he suddenly gained an unprecedented clarity about what lay before him.

It dawned on him that if he truly wanted it, achieving it was remarkably simple.

If only he could be a little less stubborn, he could touch the highest level of power.

The power of Nothingness could hold back his anger because he was at its same level—but just a bit more power, and he could shatter Nothingness, annihilate its force entirely.

But did he really need to be even a bit angrier?

Something felt off…

A shadow flickered in Lu Xin’s heart.

It came from the relentless training provided by the Qinggang Cleanup Department.

Yet, despite sensing something was wrong, his chaotic mind couldn’t quite piece it together.

After all, all he cared about was obliterating the First Researchers.

That power, it seemed, was meant for just that.

So, if everyone shared the same goal, was everything justified?

…

…

“Heh heh heh…”

At that very moment, the Coronated Clown in the distance fixed his gaze on Lu Xin, a perpetual smile on his face.

A smile that seemed eager yet restrained from laughing out loud.

He forced himself to wait—waiting as if for that delicate moment to arrive.

Then, he suddenly clapped his hands lightly.

At the sound of the clap, Lu Xin was struck by excruciating pain, as if his flesh were seared by fire.

The agony snapped him into a brief clarity; he tore off his clothes only to find that a ticket from the mysterious Circus—tucked away in his pocket—was burning him.

Instinctively, he looked up fiercely and saw the Clown laughing.

The Clown was tall and comically grotesque, with an odd, bizarre face and a fixed, unsettling smile.

One could see him in reality, yet it felt as though he wasn’t truly part of it.

He seemed to hide behind several layers of space, his shadow cast into reality.

Now, he merrily clapped his hands, flicking the filaments in his grasp as he performed a most peculiar dance…

“Wah wah wah…”

As the Clown danced, below—in the Clown’s protective shadow—the Circus suddenly erupted in a wild celebration.

This was a bizarre battlefield.

This battleground had already swallowed countless lives and plunged many into despair.

It wasn’t a place meant for performance, yet they cheerfully erected a towering stage.

Furious and filled with rage, Lu Xin paid them no mind, determined only to destroy the Black-clad Bishop; meanwhile, his mind incessantly urged him, “Destroy him, destroy him, destroy him—make sure you destroy them…”

Yet that ticket exerted an uncanny influence on Lu Xin.

Once you accept the ticket, you are compelled to watch the show.

Just as long ago when Lu Xin encountered a certain contamination—once you received the roses, you were doomed to love them.

It was a performance forced upon you…

Lu Xin even sensed that the warped force was yanking his attention squarely toward the stage.

On that stage, people adorned in gaudy, multicolored costumes began a performance that was both exaggerated and manic.

They hopped and skipped, enacting a grand, absurd spectacle.

The tinkling music clashed with piercing laughter, making one feel as though they had fallen into a surreal dream.

Lu Xin’s eyes reflected the scene on stage.

He saw an arrogant man standing atop a tall box, dressed as a Magician, clutching his black cloak as colorful streamers fluttered around him; he looked proudly at everyone on stage, exuding an air of might…

Then, behind him, a black hunting gun discharged with a bang, releasing countless streamers.

The Magician collapsed onto the stage.

Beneath his black cloak, one after another, figures began to emerge.

They were dressed in outlandish costumes—men, women, clowns, and even bizarre bug-like figures…

After escaping, they immediately turned back to snatch everything from the Magician—some seized his staff, others grabbed the crown above his head; some even tore pieces of his body before quickly scattering around…

The Magician was smothered under layers of black drapes, as if in utter despair.

Then, all the music abruptly ceased, and the stage lights dimmed to pitch black.

Slowly, slowly…

From beneath the drapes, a small wooden puppet emerged.

Its body was connected by numerous filaments; it staggered as if learning to walk, to understand this world.

Seeing a singing woman, it tried to mimic her tune.

Watching a unicycling Clown, it attempted to ride a unicycle.

Observing a strongman lifting a barbell, it tried to lift a barbell with one hand…

It grew faster and more agile, gradually resembling a living person.

But it failed to notice that the filaments on its body tightened, with one end stretching deep into the drapes.

The more nimble it became, the faster the filament on the other end was tugged out…

It was unaware of the danger; it only clumsily imitated everything around, its head bobbing, joyfully chasing after the other merry figures—while some watched it secretly, either amused, oddly, or with a cold, destructive gaze.

Until a graceful and beautiful woman appeared.

When the spotlight shone on her, everyone noticed that she had been following the little wooden puppet all along.

She looked at it, helped it, a smile on her face and eyes filled with tender care.

She could have taken center stage, but instead she chose to hide in the shadows, shielding the little puppet from the barrage of small knives, daggers, and cunning injections—simply delighted to watch it.

Until the filaments on the little puppet became perilously tight.

Then she stepped forward gently, produced a pair of scissors, and carefully cut away the most dangerous filament from the puppet.

Snap…

The crisp sound echoed across the stage, and suddenly all the joy and liveliness came to an abrupt halt.

All music stopped.

Every performer—be they the Magician, the singing woman, the strongman, or the dwarf—ceased moving.

They all turned toward the woman on stage and bowed gracefully in homage.

At the back of the stage, the towering and bizarre Coronated Clown still wore his smile, yet tears unexpectedly streamed from his eyes. In a comical display, he crossed his legs and placed his hands over his chest as he bowed deeply in tribute.

…

…

Snap…

Once again, the soft sound of scissors on stage abruptly pulled Lu Xin from his frenzied state.

He finally understood what the final performance meant.

The last show was a farewell tribute for one who selflessly sacrificed to bring hope.

At last, in that moment, tears welled up from his dry, burning eyes…