Chapter 891: Fury and Fate Under the Red Moon

Lu Xin’s fury reached its peak at that moment.

He couldn’t stand the plan that the Orphanage Director had proposed—it was almost maddening to even think about.

Fueled by his anger, black particles churned wildly like ominous clouds.

Layer upon layer they surged into the sky, as if determined to fill the very twisted abyss, burning it into a deformed shape.

His eyes burned with black flames like distant stars, his cold gaze fixed squarely on the Orphanage Director.

Yet, in the next moment, even as Lu Xin roared like a demon wreathed in black fire, he halted his outburst. His hand rose briefly before freezing mid-air. He stood in silence for a long while, a low sigh echoing amid the dark flames, then his eyes slowly reopened as the black particles gradually calmed.

Anger never solves any problems.

From the moment he became a man, Lu Xin had understood that.

The Orphanage Director watched him with cold, even maddened eyes, a hint of provocation in his look.

He was unafraid of Lu Xin’s wrath and naturally unafraid of confronting him.

Even if Lu Xin’s fury had overwhelmed him countless times, nothing would change.

Yet, the Director hadn’t expected Lu Xin to suddenly become calm, as if a realization had struck him.

That piqued his curiosity; he steadied himself and looked at Lu Xin closely.

At that moment, Lu Xin was completely enveloped by a flame-like spiritual turbulence, a transformation of swirling black particles. Even the Director, borrowing his primordial power to stabilize his mind, could not pierce Lu Xin’s dark aura. He only managed to furrow his brow and strain to watch him. And then he noticed that the twisted space around them was receding.

It was as if strands of drifting ribbons scattered before his eyes, as chaotic spiritual forces intertwined and then finally settled.

The Director realized he had returned to the residential building from moments before—the walls, the chandeliers, the floor, even the steaming meal on the table—all shifting from the unreal back to stark reality, as if the earlier disorienting illusions had been nothing more than a mirage.

He remained seated at one end of the long table, while Lu Xin sat at the opposite end.

Beside the table, others slumped in their chairs, enduring terror and despair in their own fragmented mental worlds.

At this point, Lu Xin seemed to have shed his anger. His expression was calm as he picked up a wine bottle.

Slowly, he poured a glass from his own cup.

After a moment’s thought, he tilted the bottle again, unleashing a stream of wine that spilled onto the floor, while the Director’s glass remained full, as if by magic.

It looked nothing short of magical.

…

…

“So…”

Lu Xin set the wine bottle down slowly, frowning as if deep in thought. “Did you orchestrate all of this on purpose?” he asked.

Almost as if seeking counsel, he continued, “Is it because of past events that you deliberately set this torment for me?”

“This…”

The Orphanage Director, returning to the residential building, appeared mildly surprised at first.

But he quickly regained his composure, paused briefly, then shook his head with a smile.

“Not at all.”

Remaining as composed and natural as ever, he explained softly, “My child, I arranged things with rationality in mind to ensure the proper conduct of the sacrifice. I knew you wouldn’t interfere, so the plan proceeded smoothly. After that incident, you became a different person.”

“Or rather, a true… man.”

“…”

“In that case…”

After a moment of silence, Lu Xin ventured, “Thank you?”

The Director smiled quietly and shook his head. “It was all your own doing,” he replied.

“But I still don’t quite understand…”

After a brief pause, Lu Xin whispered, “Why is it absolutely necessary to push for this sacrifice so resolutely?”

It was a question asked all too often.

But the Director quickly grasped why Lu Xin had inquired and didn’t hide his reasoning, explaining softly:

“Because it is the only way.”

“This is a world of despair. You must admit, you can’t stop the primordial descent, nor can you oppose it. More importantly, everything in this world has sunk into darkness and madness, teetering on the brink of collapse and destruction. When chaos and despair far outweigh beauty and hope, is there really any need to continue existing?”

“…”

As he spoke, the Director seemed visibly moved, lifting the wine Lu Xin had poured for him.

“Don’t pretend you know nothing,” he said.

Lifting his glass, his eyes met Lu Xin’s with a slightly cold tone, “You know exactly what this world truly is. Sure, you can claim that life is beautiful because you’re so strong that everyone has to consider your feelings, but deep down, you’ve seen its true face.”

“Haven’t you seen what this world really is?”

“What was life like when a First Researcher returned you to Qinggang, before the Qinggang Cleanup Department recruited you?”

“Must I spell it out for you?”

“…”

Listening to the Director’s words, as sharp as a scalpel cutting to the core, Lu Xin grew quiet.

It was undoubtedly a memory steeped in pain.

He had worked diligently every day, never learning the art of slacking off.

Yet, in an instant, he’d lost his job without warning.

He slogged through long hours he’d never spare for himself, saving money that still couldn’t provide warmth and food for the children at Red Moon Elementary School. He fought hard, and Teacher Xiao Lu did too, but she stumbled constantly, rebuffed by countless cold stares. She cried out about people feasting on hundred-dollar steaks while she could only manage to add an egg for the kids…

It was a life so desperate that one dared not dream of a future.

“You live in Qinggang, while I’ve roamed every nook and cranny of this world…”

The Director’s voice turned heavy at that moment, “So, I’ve seen far more than you ever could…”

“I’ve witnessed the true underbelly of this world—a market driven by greed where people are treated like livestock, chained and sold; I’ve seen cruel, grotesque exhibitions where five-year-olds are scalded, their skin burned and wrapped in tattered shrouds; I’ve seen the enslaved, digging in the fields with bare, calloused hands, their flesh eroded away in a desperate struggle to crack frozen earth.”

“And I’ve seen the so-called new-age doomsday nobles wallow in decay under the spell of Black Grass’s fragrance. They assumed their superiority was unassailable, never considering how to forge a new civilization or order. Instead, they plunged all their energies into figuring out how to enslave generations to come…”

“How can we fail to see the truth of this world?”

“Then behold what this world has birthed as its ultimate embodiment…”

“Paranoia, chaos, fear, numbness, vanity, greed, silence, bewilderment, ambition, theft, nightmares, and…”

“Anger and death!”

“…”

The Director’s voice turned icy as he delivered his conclusion, “The Ultimate is the true spokesman for this generation’s civilization—they speak no lies.”

…

…

Lu Xin sat silently opposite the Director for a long spell.

In that empty room, where only two minds remained awake, the Director’s words echoed relentlessly.

After a long while, Lu Xin nodded slightly and said, “I know that everything you said is true.”

“But still…”

He paused before adding, “I still choose to believe that there is beauty in this world.”

“Ha…”

The Director let out a faint, bitter laugh, his gaze fixed on Lu Xin with cool indifference.

Lu Xin, lost in thought, slowly replied, “I’ve seen some of those things as well.”

“They’re hard to look at, and I’ve witnessed even more cruelty, but…”

After careful thought, he finally said, “I refuse to ignore the darkness. Yet I cannot deny the goodness that exists. I once saw a man, unable to walk after breaking his leg, still running desperately for a group of homeless children.”

“I’ve seen people build walls to fend off the madmen outside the city.”

“I’ve seen those who risked everything to battle mental monsters they barely understood…”

“I’ve seen people who, even in death, remembered their responsibilities.”

“I’ve seen those who, when despair loomed large, stepped out from behind the scenes to take center stage…”

“…”

He unspooled his thoughts in one long breath, leaving even the Director slightly taken aback as his earlier mockery faded from his face.

“So, I believe there is still much beauty in this world.”

Lu Xin looked at the Director and added, “It’s just that beauty is temporarily hidden—people hide their kindness and goodness out of fear. The Red Moon incident plunged everyone into terror, masking what is truly good.”

“Thus, the world is not without hope; it only awaits awakening…”

“…”

The Director listened, his eyes narrowing as he scrutinized Lu Xin as if seeing him for the first time.

After a while he shook his head slightly with a self-mocking smile and said,

“I always knew you would grow into a man, but I never expected you to become the person you are now.”

“…”

“Because I have grown old…”

Lu Xin quickly replied, “And because you have aged too.”

“Director…”

He hesitated, calling him by that title with an unfamiliar lilt, then continued, “In my eyes, you once seemed untouchable. For a long time during those dark days you spoke of civilization and order, all I remembered were your stories of better times… the good side of you…”

“In truth, before I knew you were still alive, I only recalled your kindest moments…”

“…”

At the mention of these words, the Director seemed visibly moved, shifting awkwardly.

“But now…”

Lu Xin shook his head gently, “Even without mentioning what you’ve done, I can’t see you the same way anymore.”

“Now, it’s clear…”

He looked up at the Director and said in a low voice, “You’re nothing more than a desperate old man.”

“You’re so desperate that you refuse to believe that good and bad people are essentially the same…”

“You won’t accept that this world has a future, so you long for the past…”

“…”

“You…”

The Director, sensing something in Lu Xin’s calm tone, suddenly grew anxious.

His throat shifted as his voice slightly rose, “What do you intend to do?”

He knew people, and he knew Lu Xin well. Hearing those words, he suddenly understood why Lu Xin’s anger had dissipated, why he had become suddenly calm in the face of despair—because he had already made up his mind.

“Director, you’re right,” Lu Xin affirmed.

Even as the Director’s anxiety spiked, Lu Xin’s face broke into a relaxed smile as he declared,

“I won’t kill them. I won’t hurt my classmates. I’ll do everything in my power to protect them.”

“But I will stop your plan.”

He laughed and added, “Because I believe this world is still worth saving and deserves a future.”

“So…”

He suddenly looked up at the ceiling. As he did, the residential building’s ceiling vanished, revealing in mid-air countless mental tendrils dangling from the Primordial—the dark red, almost indescribably deep appendages, an immense mental sea that felt as vast as the starry heavens…

Facing the unfathomable, unknowable, and irresistible Primordial, Lu Xin’s gaze hardened with resolve.

“Your plan was to sacrifice this world to the Primordial, then let it reshape civilization as it was before the Red Moon?”

“Then I will become the Primordial and refuse your sacrifice!”

“…”

“…”

Boom!

When those words left Lu Xin’s lips, even the Director seemed to detonate a nuclear bomb within his spiritual realm.

Usually calm and composed, he suddenly trembled, nearly toppling from his chair.

His eyes burned with a wild, unending craziness, his pupils contracting to pinpoints as he fixed his gaze on Lu Xin. In a trembling voice, he fought to maintain his composure, “Child, I told you—it’s impossible. You simply can’t do it…”

“The First Researcher’s plan is utterly absurd. It was never meant to succeed…”

“The Primordial will engulf all consciousness, even you with your unique mind…”

“…”

“It does have a certain challenge to it…”

Facing the Director’s horror, Lu Xin only nodded and said with a smile, “After all, it’s a trial from God.”

He downed the wine in his cup quickly, taking large swigs to maintain his image. The spicy burn filled his mouth; he covered it with his hand, coughed discreetly, then smiled at the Director, “But I believe I have a chance. After all, I promised so many people I’d help them…”

“In life, words must be kept. That’s the rule.”

“…”

The Director’s hand trembled as the body formed by interwoven spiritual power reacted almost as if it were real.

He couldn’t help but stand up, reaching out with his frail body to grab Lu Xin.

“By the way, Director…”

Just as the Director’s hand was about to extend, Lu Xin abruptly turned and smiled at him, “You still lag behind that genius from the Moon Eclipse Research Institute…”

“…”

Hearing this, the Director was struck as if by a blow. His hand, reaching out on instinct to grab Lu Xin’s, fell limply.

His face was etched with endless conflict and pain—a mix of shock, horror, defeat, and undeniable sympathy.

“Child…”

With his last ounce of strength, he murmured something unrelated to his plan, “What you’re doing not only has an infinitesimal chance of success, but it will also bring immense sorrow…”

“Even if you temporarily halt the Primordial, the sacrifice won’t vanish—it will only pause.”

“You’re essentially trading unending torment and your own life for a hope that’s nearly impossible to grasp…”

“…”

Lu Xin was silent for a moment, then glanced at the Director and saw a rare, genuine tenderness in his eyes.

Feeling a sudden release, he nodded slightly, “Director, when you show your soft side, you truly are a good man.”

“…”

After saying that, Lu Xin stood up with ease, smiled, and began walking forward.

In that residential building, everything started to distort once more. The space twisted and overlapped in layers.

Lu Xin stepped on invisible steps as he ascended through this surreal realm,

Slowly unfastening items from his person…

The red glasses he wore on his face, the black bag he always clutched, the mysterious playing card sealing Mom’s Mind Palace, and even a bank card he had once secretly hidden from everyone.

…The bank card was no good—he put it back into his pocket.

Step by step, Lu Xin ascended the invisible stairs, dispersing endless dangling mental tendrils with a raised hand as he approached the Primordial.

A crimson moon loomed in the sky, seemingly occupying half of it.

At that moment, Lu Xin looked as if he were about to step into the radiant red moon.

…

…

“What is he planning to do?”

From within the black bag that Lu Xin had discarded, the skinless dog and other little monsters cowered and emerged, trembling as they looked up at him. At the same time, his Sister—the one who, as the Ultimate, had succeeded Lu Xin as a witness—and distant Qinggang were using their spiritual power to precariously support the Primordial, struggling to protect the Doll of this world.

There was also his father, roaring in despair, along with the people of Qinggang.

The white-haired Fire-Thief, and countless bizarre beings in this intermingled abyss of reality…

All at once, they felt something and instinctively shifted their gaze to the spiritual realm, watching Lu Xin.

Lu Xin stood before the red moon, pausing briefly, then glanced back.

He saw Qinggang at that moment, Teacher Xiao Lu at the Orphanage clutching children as she hid in the basement, saw the Doll battling against the Primordial’s mental tendrils, and caught sight of Chen Jing, Han Bing, Professor Bai, Mr. Su, Minister Shen, Vice President Xiao, the heartless aunt selling vegetables downstairs, Gecko, Tie Cui, the Drunkard, the Godly Woman, the Red Serpent, the Bear Child, and the Watchdog.

Beside him, there were those striving to escape the Nightmare of God—Number Two, who aimed to leave it behind; Number Three, eager to return home and care for his wife and children; Number Five, ready to attract investors to develop new medicine; Number Eight, determined to put an end to it all; Number Twelve, who after all this time was too timid yet agreed to help plot the Director’s assassination with Number Fourteen…

Little Nineteen, and Sister—who wasn’t the Little Seventeen—and others…

The Dracula Doomsday Legion in the North, where the brilliant Clockwork Orange and loyal Old Wang reside, along with the beautiful Red Dancing Shoes.

Over at Miss Rocket’s defense line, there was Xia Chong, who had finally been promoted to Senior Investigator, alongside his good friend Scalpel.

In the corners of this world, there were Gao Ting and Old Zhou & Little Zhou, tasked with escorting rescue supplies across the wasteland…

In a small, rule-abiding village on the outskirts of the Chaos Zone…

Too many, too many…

“What’s there to worry about…”

Lu Xin suddenly laughed, his inner thoughts clearer than ever before.

“This world sure is full of dark and deranged people who leave it battered and exhausted.”

“Perhaps if this world had a mind of its own, it would wish that such tragic experiences had never existed—if it were just a nightmare that vanished upon waking.”

“But I believe that it chooses to carry on, bearing its wounds as it marches toward a new future…”

“After all, why else would it have created so many beautiful and lovable people?”

“Tomorrow is always ahead; shadows are only temporary…”

“…”

With these thoughts, Lu Xin cast one last wistful look at the world before turning and stepping into the glow of the red moon.

Until his figure vanished in its light, a smile played on his face.

…

…

“Brother…”

A drawn-out, tearful cry echoed from the chaotic spiritual altar as his Sister, who knew him best, panicked.

She thought, ‘My brother’s such a coward…’

He’s always been terrified of loneliness. Even coming home to an empty house would bring him to tears.

But this time, he left behind the black bag and everyone else.

He ventured forth alone, facing the Primordial.