Chapter 890: A Flicker in the Abyss
by xennovel“So, when will it all end?”
Lu Xin found himself drowning in a cacophony, his mood as dark as the noise surrounding him.
In a world overwhelmed by emotion, he knew the ordeal wasn’t over yet—but he was close to forgetting how to resist, desperate only for an end.
He knew that at this moment, Doll was straining with every ounce of her strength to uphold another world in descent.
Seeing his father’s temper—uncompromising and fierce—he fought with every fiber of his being against the Primordial Force, while also pushing to bolster his mental power. The deep, oppressive night mixed with endless terror as he bellowed at the residents of Heichao City, “Cry, all of you—cry your hearts out! The harder you weep, the more likely you are to survive…”
He watched as Qinggang’s electromagnetic cannon pointed skyward, unleashing weak beams of light.
He saw Gecko, despairing as he made his final, doomsday proposal to Linda, only to be kicked forcefully to the ground…
He observed that the entire world had sunk into despair and confusion, yet in a rare moment of calm, people still looked up at the sky.
He knew that now was the time to stand up, rally himself, and put an end to the Old Director’s mad plan.
To steer this world toward the destiny it was meant to have.
He understood every bit of what was happening…
Who didn’t understand the logic?
But at this moment his mind roared as though a thousand chainsaws were sawing through steel.
Chaotic mental power assaulted him like countless steel needles, each one piercing his brain relentlessly.
With great effort, he raised his hand toward Doll, desperate to help her.
Yet the black particles surrounding him obeyed a different will—they quietly rose like a dark hand that gently pushed down the outstretched arm of Lu Xin before surging off with a tide of despair towards the opposite end.
Lu Xin could do nothing to stop it.
For his power was born of those very black particles—sever them and he was but an ordinary man.
Just as many in this world, once stripped of identity, name, status, family, and friends, eventually realize on some fateful night that they are merely a fragile consciousness—an insignificant speck locked in a mental prison, left to be ravaged by their emotions.
What choice did one have?
In a city so vast, with its bustling crowds and dazzling streetlights,
his meager consciousness was even dimmer than a single streetlamp’s glow.
This was a truth, and a despair.
So, amid this profound hopelessness, Lu Xin even began to long for an end.
That long-familiar, overwhelming pressure enveloped him once more.
Perhaps because he had rediscovered his true self or because he now possessed the Unique Consciousness, he felt even more painfully aware of every ounce of pressure, each moment acutely devouring his will.
After all those years of searching, he had thought he’d finally gathered the courage to confront this despair—only to see it all come out as a bitter joke.
Maybe it was better not to resist at all, even if others mocked his weakness.
But the weight of it all was unbearably exhausting—each breath itself a burden.
So perhaps some would laugh at his surrender, others would look down on him, or pretend to understand as they sneered from above, spitting venom about how he shouldn’t be doing this or that, acting all superior and clever.
Who the hell doesn’t get it?
Those people only grasp one fact: they were simply lucky.
Because of luck, they never encountered such misery, never felt this gut-wrenching despair.
……
……
Just as if he were always destined to be this way—why, after all, did the wrath of God choose him?
His eyelids grew heavy, as if drawing a curtain across the world.
……
……
“The Big Monster…”
And just as darkness threatened to swallow the world in Lu Xin’s eyes, amidst the clamor of whirring chainsaws, a phantom sound rang out. It made his eyelids twitch. Suddenly, he thought of Little Nineteen. Determined, he set out to find her, remembering his promise to take her away from that place, away from this nightmare.
He didn’t know where Little Nineteen was, but he was sure she was terrified.
“Child…”
He heard a familiar, gentle call and saw Mom gazing at him with tender belief, as if she trusted he could bring hope.
“Number Nine…”
He heard companions from the Orphanage softly calling his name—they were those he felt indebted to.
“Wake up…”
He saw Doll grabbing his arm, gently shaking it, as helpless as a little girl frightened by a crowd.
All these voices made it impossible for his eyes to fully close.
Just like the primordial state in the abyss, death never felt final.
……
……
“Are you still holding on?”
In a vast ocean of intertwined mental power, where everyone was merging through this sacrificial ritual, the Old Director slowly turned his head. Through the realm of spirit, he looked toward Lu Xin and shook his head slightly. He had calculated in advance the immense pressure unleashed by uncontrolled God Particles. Yet, to his surprise, Lu Xin was still persevering.
“Every second of this torment is a sentence meted out by the mind…”
“Why such obstinacy, child…”
The Old Director shook his head gently and then glanced toward the civilization that had begun descending upon this world.
“The sacrifice is more than halfway done. It’s useless now…”
“……”
Even when it seemed futile, Lu Xin continued his stubborn, pointless struggle.
Amid the muddled, discordant noise, faint calls reached him, not entirely clear yet always perceptible.
As long as he could hear them, a lingering attachment kept his eyes from closing.
Until, suddenly, a crystalline call erupted, drowning out all other sound:
“Brother…”
“……”
In that instant, Lu Xin flung his eyes open. He felt as if the oppressive, dark tide above him had vanished in a flash; the clamor in his ears dissipated, leaving his mind empty except for that one striking, uncertain echo that continued to reverberate slowly.
“That is…”
It was as if fresh air finally flooded into Lu Xin’s chest, dispelling the suffocating darkness.
Lu Xin couldn’t tell if it was real or not—he only looked around, tense.
“Brother…”
Another call rang out, this time even clearer.
Lu Xin noticed the uncontrolled black particles nearby suddenly splitting apart like a torn mosquito net, and then he saw a tiny head emerge in front of him, its scrunched face beaming with a nervous yet triumphant smile.
It was Sister.
Just like always, Sister appeared out of nowhere and clambered to Lu Xin’s side.
“Sister…”
A rush of overwhelming joy filled Lu Xin’s chest, and involuntarily he cried out, his voice nearly choked with emotion.
“Brother, why are you crying again?”
Sister stretched out her small hands and crawled toward him.
At the same moment, Lu Xin’s surrounding mental energy convulsed violently and the black particles, like a flurry of scattered thoughts, surged back into his body. This movement shook nearly the entire altar. It was then that the Old Director abruptly turned around, his face showing a trace of astonishment as he beheld the small figure darting toward Lu Xin.
“How can this be?”
As that thought raced through him, the Old Director suddenly raised his gun and fired with a loud “bang,” hitting the tiny figure.
The figure vanished before Lu Xin’s eyes, as transient as a bubble.
Yet before he could even mourn, more shouts erupted around him:
“Brother…”
“Brother…”
“Stingy old coot…”
“You big dummy…”
“You old pervert who loves long legs…”
“……”
Amid the chaotic turmoil of mental energy, one after another, little white skirts appeared, crawling in all directions—in loops, swaying and dangling. One by one, different versions of Sister advanced toward Lu Xin. Some had limbs resembling branches, some looked like sturdy little spiders, others were as chubby as fleshy orbs, and some resembled wriggling earthworms.
Everywhere, Sisters swarmed, crawling swiftly toward Lu Xin.
Their sheer numbers even left the Old Director speechless; his hand trembling slightly as he gripped his gun.
For the first time, the usually calm and wise Old Director appeared clumsy—gun in hand yet unsure where to aim.
“Brother, your rear is burning and you’re still here crying…”
Countless Sisters clung to Lu Xin, wrapping around his neck in a mix of fear and awkwardness. Then, one Sister, the fastest of them all, broke free from the crowd, rushed to Lu Xin’s side, and hugged his neck.
Immediately, she began to complain.
“You don’t care about me anymore—you don’t even know if I made it…”
“Your eyes are all about money and your wife…”
“My toys have been broken by him multiple times. You need to make him pay…”
“……”
The familiar blend of irrationality and petulance whispered in Lu Xin’s ear, filling him with a nearly dizzying happiness.
As Sister’s cool little hands touched his skin, Lu Xin’s mind became clearer than ever. Suddenly, he understood the root of the problem and burst into an almost embarrassing, loud, silly laugh—eager to show off.
Yes, this was Sister—his true Sister.
The Old Director had indeed just killed a Sister, but he hadn’t truly understood her.
Even the seemingly all-knowing Old Director couldn’t calculate every detail.
Sister was a creation of his own consciousness and mental power.
Yet, Sister had developed her own thoughts and will—she even harbored a small ambition.
She was, in effect, another facet of his personality. According to the Old Director’s theory, eliminating this aspect would return all negative emotions to zero, crushing him completely when the Primordial Force manifested.
All he wanted was for him to lose control.
In a sense, his plan had succeeded—the theory was sound on paper.
But he had overlooked one thing: Sister wasn’t so easily killed.
Sister had become a little rich woman.
Ever since she realized her own vulnerability and feared abandonment, she had taken to scavenging relentlessly—picking up every scrap of a Mental Monster she could find and stuffing it into her backpack, much like a monster devouring others to make them part of itself, building its own body.
And Mental Monsters were incredibly hard to kill.
Even if one part was destroyed, another part could always regenerate.
Thus, Sister existed in many forms—each item in her backpack a piece of her.
The Old Director’s calculations had missed this critical link.
“And the key to his oversight was…”
Lu Xin’s thoughts were interrupted by a crisp, distant “snap” echoing in his mind.
Scissors.
It was Mom’s scissors.
Long ago, Mom had used those scissors to help separate him and Sister, granting them individuality.
Before she left, when the First Researcher forced her to betray her own kind, she extended those scissors to him—the cut that separated him from Sister. Later in Qinggang, when they reunited, Sister had become an independent being…
That very cut, spanning the river of time and space, now played a decisive role at this critical moment.
After all, the Old Director was just an ordinary man.
No matter how brilliant his theory, he would always overlook the subtle truths.
He prattled on about believing that spiritual life was real life, yet never considered that they, too, possessed a complete consciousness.
Sister was not his subordinate.
She was an independent existence—even if she was weak, she was far from easy to deal with…
……
……
“Buzz…”
As Lu Xin grasped these truths, the black particles began rushing back into him at a breakneck pace.
The mind is a fickle thing—loyal yet prone to betrayal. The moment Lu Xin’s thoughts coalesced, they followed suit; like scattered musings that suddenly obey when one finds solace.
Clenching his teeth, Lu Xin felt layers of dark ripples emanate from him.
He resolved to push through and disperse the crushing mental power surrounding him, reclaiming his freedom.
But it was excruciatingly hard.
The entire altar had merged into one, even fusing with half the world.
It was as if Lu Xin, standing as a witness, was glued in place by an unyielding force.
The God’s Cage Sacrifice Ceremony was driven by seven ultimate witnesses—and once activated, it imprisoned those seven at the same level. Even Lu Xin, so close to the Primordial, found it nearly impossible to break free…
Scars of split skin and torn flesh marred him, yet he could not escape.
“Brother, let me help you…”
Sister’s voice rang out suddenly, brimming with newfound courage as she generously offered her aid.
Just as the once-helpless Lu Xin had hustled to earn extra cash from the Qinggang Cleanup Department, she now decided to help.
As soon as she spoke, her tiny hand clutched Lu Xin’s neck. Behind her, various incarnations of Sister crawled over; one after another, they melded with her, bolstering her mental power. Her body grew larger, and her style—uniquely evolving—became even more distinct.
Sensing Sister’s change, Lu Xin suddenly reacted:
“You’re trying to…”
“…”
He recalled the ambition Sister had once shown.
She intended to become a Queen…
Every Sister was a facet of her being, each with its own characteristics. Yet in this moment, all those diverse traits melded together—as if imbued with Spider-type powers, enabling an entire city’s worth of people to form a vast net. In that instant, the various traits converged on Sister, producing an uncanny sense of fusion.
Thus, an ability manifested so rapidly that even Lu Xin could hardly comprehend it.
Lu Xin’s rank was closest to the Primordial; similarly, Sister’s own level was just as elevated.
An ordinary consciousness wouldn’t be able to remain undiluted under such a fusion of traits.
But this was Sister, after all…
Piece by piece, with a Thorny Tiara on her head, straw sandals on her feet, a Gold-threaded Steel Pen in hand, and clutching half a Wooden Scepter in her right hand, she materialized at lightning speed within this crucible of intertwined mental power. Sister’s strength surged as she bit her tiny sharp teeth, pulling Lu Xin out and shielding him from the overwhelming mental onslaught.
Temporarily, she became his new witness, buying him freedom.
“Go quickly…”
She shouted loudly, like a determined little adult with a mind of her own.
Her small hand gently caressed the wounds on Lu Xin’s body. At her touch, Spider-type power healed the injuries exactly as she had done so many times before, comforting him with, “Hurry—when wounds belong to someone else, they don’t hurt…”
“Sister has truly become the Ultimate…”
In disbelief, Lu Xin dashed forward. At the same time, a thought struck him:
“What shall we name this statue?”
“The Ragged Queen?”
“…”
“…”
“Why does every carefully crafted plan always meet with unforeseen setbacks?”
The Old Director glared in anger at the scene unfolding before him, yet maintained a calm façade. Lu Xin and Sister’s combined power was too overwhelming—he couldn’t directly intervene. After all, he was merely an ordinary man who had, through the sacrificial power, gained the ability to observe it all and even control part of the force drawn from the Primordial to eliminate weaker consciousnesses in the sacrifice.
But that power was not truly his; this sacrifice was not meant to fuel his own strength.
Thus he was powerless to stop it; there was no time.
He watched as Lu Xin, now freed at the core of the sacrifice, stood silently.
“Stop!”
Wrapped in ceaseless black particles, every surge of mental power exploded around him, as if he were adrift in an endless sea. In the blink of an eye, he reappeared before the Old Director and spoke in a low, steady tone.
The Old Director shook his head slowly, “I…”
At that moment, the black particles in Lu Xin’s eyes trembled; an invisible force tore the Old Director apart in an instant.
Even though he knew he couldn’t really kill him, he wanted to spite him.
No sooner had the Old Director’s figure vanished than it reappeared behind Lu Xin, continuing,
“I have no reason to stop, nor any need to.”
“……”
Lu Xin raised his hand once more, and the black particles surged. The Old Director’s image was once again ripped apart.
In the next moment, Lu Xin exhaled deeply. The black particles around him flowed, drawn by the seemingly endless space, and surged downward. Trusting his instinct borne of intertwined mental power, he charged straight for the heart of the sacrificial zone—where the Genesis Hard Drive resided. The dark particles flowed like a tide.
“Shh…”
The sounds of clashing and tearing mental power rang out.
Sensing danger, the Genesis Hard Drive rippled with waves as it surged toward Lu Xin.
At the same time, an intense consciousness rallied infinite mental power around the Genesis Hard Drive, heading straight for Lu Xin.
It was the Fantasy King of the City of Life.
As Lu Xin’s power intertwined with it, he suddenly perceived the truth. Looking down, he saw a brain sealed inside a glass jar, thick tubes inserted into it, exuding layered mental signals.
“That is…”
Lu Xin suddenly recognized whose brain it was.
“Number One.”
Once rescued by the Old Director—but reportedly dead now—Number One had been preserved as a brain in a jar. He had become the head of the Technology Church and the king of Fantasy Nation.
No wonder, upon entering the city, countless pedestrians stopped and waved at him.
Number Seven had said, “Those are old acquaintances.”
Yes, they were acquaintances—and even classmates.
Due to his condition, he couldn’t appear in person, nor attend the Old Director’s class reunions. Instead, he controlled the city’s passersby, beckoning silently to him and their other classmates as a substitute for reunion.
“Ka…”
Lu Xin gritted his teeth. His eyes grew cold as he glared fiercely at the Old Director, “Look at what you’ve done…”
“……”
Before the Old Director could speak, the black particles tore him apart once more. Then, turning his body, Lu Xin charged downward from above.
Layer upon layer of fury surged within him, intensifying his mental power into a ferocious deluge—like a black meteor descending from the heavens, carrying untold destruction with each moment. With every fraction of descent, his power built up like an eternal blaze, as black particles clashed and trembled, surging heavily toward the center of the abyssal altar where the Genesis Hard Drive was located.
Crash…
Like a dark blade tearing through the earth, splattering bright red magma.
Two colossal forces of illusion were melted away by the black particles at that moment, ripping a massive gap.
Then, amid layers of illusion, the sounds of shattering glass ware and the ripping of a flesh-like grotesque tree echoed. Lu Xin saw shattered faces splattered on the ground—faces that, on closer inspection, looked eerily familiar…
Where had he seen them before?
It didn’t matter now!
With one final, relentless blow, he destroyed the Genesis Hard Drive. He looked up in alarm only to see the surrounding mental power still surging turbulently.
The power of the sacrifice still flowed on; the civilization before the Red Moon Incident was still descending.
……
……
“It’s useless…”
The Old Director’s figure reappeared slowly behind him, as if watching the angry yet futile youth, and he murmured, “The altar’s purpose is merely to lure in the Primordial and offer up the sacrifice—to forge the contract. Now that the sacrifice has begun and the Primordial has descended, even if you destroy the altar, what use would it be?”
Lu Xin spun around, extending his hand to cover the Old Director’s face.
Surging black particles formed a massive tidal wave, as if ready to completely engulf the Old Director at any moment.
But this time, they did not fully overwhelm him.
Lu Xin no longer wasted effort trying to banish his shadow repeatedly; instead, he gritted his teeth, vowing, “There must be a way!”
“Yes.”
Facing Lu Xin’s surge of anger, the Old Director maintained an uncanny calm and nodded slightly.
Then he raised his head to meet Lu Xin’s gaze—eyes filled with black particles—and a cold, indifferent light flashed across his face:
“Once the sacrifice begins, no external force can tear it down.”
“But there is indeed a way to break it.”
“I once taught you that the more complex something is, the easier it can be shattered by brute force.”
“Now it’s the same—the sacrifice is propelled by seven ultimate witnesses, representing the attitude of the offerings. Eliminate the ultimate witness, and the sacrifice will naturally be broken. However…”
“…”
His face suddenly twisted into a cold, almost mad smile as he stared into Lu Xin’s soul:
“Are you willing?”
“Wipe them all out to stop this sacrifice—are you willing?”
……
……
Boom…
As thunder roared in his ears, the fury on Lu Xin’s face vanished in an instant. He staggered two steps back.
In his eyes, the Old Director exuded a cold, seething anger—a deep madness that instilled terror.
Only then did he truly comprehend the Old Director’s horror.
The Old Director was merely a man, and his plan was never perfect. There would always be loopholes—oversights he hadn’t foreseen—that would interfere with his design.
He wasn’t sure what vulnerabilities he had left, but he always planned one step ahead so that even when changes occurred, his plan could still proceed.
For instance, he hadn’t accounted for Sister’s transformation, for the possibility of his own escape.
Yet he had already prepared an even greater dilemma…
He realized that he could truly stop this sacrifice and save the despairing world after the Red Moon Incident.
But to do that, he would have to kill all seven witnesses…
He looked up at the sky, at the pained, inescapable faces staring back at him.
Once, he had killed them, burdened with endless guilt. Now, could he really kill them a second time?
Would repeating this tragedy be the only way to stop the sacrifice?