noffsinger Chapter 147 Not only must we live, we must also be promoted
Chapter 147 Not only must we live, we must also be promoted
The rock strata were shaking, as if a giant beast was turning over underneath.
Chen Fan knelt on one knee amidst the rubble, his hands braced against the ground, blood mingling with golden light seeping from between his fingers. He looked up and saw that beyond the cracked sky, dark clouds were being torn apart by some invisible force, revealing the outlines of countless, neatly arranged celestial soldiers. The weapons gleamed coldly, but they did not immediately charge down—they were waiting, waiting for the behemoth to crush everything first.
"Strategist!" The white dragon horse leaped in from the side, its hooves shattering a rock. "We can't hold on any longer! That thing's sonic waves..."
Chen Fan raised his hand to interrupt him.
He wiped the blood from the corner of his mouth; the blood foam trailed in the air and ignited into wisps of smoke upon landing.
"That's not a sound wave." His voice was hoarse, like sandpaper grinding iron. "It's the 'Continuation Group's' calibration frequency. They're testing the limits of this world's tolerance."
Before he could finish speaking, another muffled thud sounded above his head.
This time, the entire Flower and Fruit Mountain shook three times. Rocks tumbled down like rain, and a corner of the roof of the Sutra Repository collapsed in the distance. Nezha fell from mid-air, a crack appeared in his Universe Ring, and he landed kneeling on one knee, his face pale.
"The data is very clear," Nezha gasped, "this frequency is targeting system vulnerabilities. Our previous tampering... may have left traces."
Chen Fan did not answer.
He closed his eyes, his mind racing through all the actions he had taken over the past century: turning Sun Wukong against his will, rewriting Tang Sanzang's story, integrating the Bull Demon King—each choice had created a hole in the foundation of the "Journey to the West System." Those holes had now become the bullseye for the sequel writing team.
He suddenly stood up, his movements so fast they were like a blur.
Blood was still dripping, but he stood ramrod straight.
"Listen up," the voice said, not loud, but it drowned out all the noise, "The battle can wait. The most important thing right now isn't to hold off this wave."
He turned around and scanned every face: Wukong grinned, his golden cudgel slung over his shoulder; Bajie dragged his rake, his fat face unusually devoid of laughter; Sha Wujing silently gripped his demon-subduing staff; the old bull and his son, the nine-headed insect, and dozens of demon kings who previously served their respective masters were all crammed onto this makeshift rocky platform, covered in dust and bloodstains, but their eyes burned with a frightening intensity.
"We don't just want to survive." Chen Fan took a step forward, the gravel beneath his feet cracking and crumbling, "We also want to be upgraded."
"Upgraded?" Wukong narrowed his eyes. "Upgraded to what?"
"From 'experimental subject' to 'rule maker'." Chen Fan waved his arm, pointing to the sky above that was obscured by the giant beast's maw. "Why is the sequel writing team afraid of us? It's not that they're afraid of our numbers and strength, it's that they're afraid we'll prove that this world doesn't have to follow their script."
The air seemed to freeze for a moment.
In the distance, the celestial army's formation began to slowly advance, and purple lightning flashed at the edges of the dark clouds.
"To be promoted, we need to submit three things." Chen Fan held up three fingers, his bloodstained hand looking like cast iron in the dim light. "First, stable rules. We need to have our own set of operating rules, independent of the Heavenly Court and without begging the Buddhist sect, so that we can operate on our own."
"Secondly, it's about the acceptance of the masses." He tucked his finger in. "It's not about coercion, but about these brothers below genuinely believing in these new rules and being willing to risk their lives for them."
He paused, then lowered his third finger.
"Third - outer layer of proof by contradiction."
"Outer layer?" the nine-headed worm asked, its snake pupils shrinking to pinpoints.
"It's evidence of 'outside the world'," Chen Fan said sharply. "It proves that this world can be interfered with, reorganized, or even... replaced by external forces. The sequel writing team has a backer, observation points, and a backup plot library. We don't. If we were to have that, we would have to carve out a 'hard rock' that doesn't belong to this script from the cracks."
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Old Niu boomed, "Where would you find such a thing?"
"Yes." Chen Fan turned his head and looked into the depths of the rock wall. There, ancient runes flickered faintly—the first data stream captured from the void when the system was activated. "The observer's lost beacon has been buried here all along. Its corresponding passage leads to the outer side of the abandoned storyline."
"Abandoned plot?" Wukong jumped up. "Isn't that just a poorly written, unfinished story?"
"Yes. But the discarded drafts might contain the 'original settings'." Chen Fan walked step by step towards the rock wall. "The foundation of the Heavenly Court and Buddhism, the core code of the Journey to the West system, how did it originally come about—if the discarded drafts weren't completely deleted, they might have left their roots."
He inserted his fingers into the crevice in the rock and dug it out sharply.
"Click!"
He forcefully pulled out a dark silver metal piece covered with fine cracks. It wasn't big, like a twisted key, and it felt cold to the touch, yet it pulsed faintly, as if something inside was burning.
"This is the pass marker." Chen Fan held it up, and the metal plate suddenly vibrated and emitted a buzzing sound. "The passage it points to is deep inside the mountain. But that place has also been marked by the sequel group. We have to rush in before the frequency is completely locked and get the counter-evidence."
"And then?" Pigsy asked instinctively.
"Then, pack up all the materials and stuff them back into the system." Chen Fan sneered, "Let that so-called 'Heavenly Way' see for itself—that those below can climb onto the table and share its pie without relying on its favors."
The air exploded.
This isn't a metaphor. It literally exploded—the giant beast's mouth suddenly opened, and a pure white beam of light shot straight down, evaporating the air and vaporizing the rocks in its path.
"Ready!" Wukong held his golden cudgel horizontally, and the cudgel's body burst with golden light.
"Don't take it head-on!" Chen Fan roared. "That's a verification beam; touching it will leave a data imprint! Split into three groups—Wukong and Nezha, engage it head-on and attract its frequency! Old Bull and Nine-Headed Insect, weave in from both sides and blast its vocal cords! White Dragon Horse and Sandy, follow me down the cliff and open a passage!"
The command was given swiftly.
Everyone responded immediately, without uttering a single unnecessary word.
Right now—
Without warning, the pass marker in Chen Fan's palm lit up.
It wasn't the faint buzzing sound from before. It was a blinding, blood-red light, like the first glimpse when your heart is ripped open. The light burst forth on the surface of the metal sheet, outlining an arrow pointing straight to the deeper, darker place below the rock wall.
Even more terrifying, the arrow was moving.
It slowly rotates, and finally, it steadily points to—beyond the mountain, beyond the crack in the sky, into a void.
There should have been nothing there.
But at this moment, the verification beams of the continuous write group seemed to avoid that area. The void, like a cheap curtain, was slightly wrinkled and undulating, as if the breath of a giant beast was hidden behind it.
Chen Fan stared at the arrow, blood dripping from his chin onto the pass sign, which, under the red light, looked like molten iron.
He suddenly laughed, a laugh that made his teeth bleed.
"Found it," he said in a low voice, but his tone was like thunder. "It's not just the abandoned plot flow... the passage connects to the 'outer layer.' The real outer layer, outside the script."
Before the words were finished, the giant beast above emitted a second wave of buzzing.
This time, the sound waves were mixed with intermittent "warning sounds" that resembled electronic noise. The celestial army formation began to descend, and the blade-like clouds cleaved the sky.
"Strategist!" the white dragon horse roared urgently.
Chen Fan snatched the pass away sign, leaving burn marks on the metal surface from the blood.
He turned around, his eyes showing no more hesitation.
"You heard me? They're getting anxious." He drew his short sword from his waist, the blade still stained with ashes from the previous battle. "Then let them see—"
"What do you mean by 'real' promotion?"
He lightly touched the ground with his toes and was the first to crash into the rock wall.
It didn't walk, it crashed.
The body, like a cannonball, covered in undried blood and dust, carved a furrow into the rock strata, leading straight to the deepest darkness.
Behind him, the sounds of the golden cudgel cutting through the air, the rake scraping the ground, war drums, and strange roars exploded simultaneously.
The giant beam grazed the top of the last demon king's head and blasted into the ground, vaporizing and creating a lava tunnel.
Light and darkness are intertwined.
The red arrow pointing into nothingness burned hotter and hotter in Chen Fan's arms.
**In the darkness beyond the rock strata, something is awakening. It's not a behemoth, not a celestial being. Its pulse, its frequency, perfectly synchronized with the beacon's—like a cold, icy eye that has fallen from a greater height, awaiting reactivation.**
Chapter 407 The Crevice Leading to the Outer Layer
The rock strata were moving. Not the shaking of an earthquake, but a kind of viscous, slow peeling sensation. Chen Fan lay on the ground, his hands digging into the cracks in the rock, staring up at the darkness. Something in the darkness was opening its eyes.
It wasn't an eye. It was an oval, dark blue stone with fine lines on its surface, like blood vessels or rivers on a sand table. It had originally been embedded deep in the rock wall, and now it was slowly arching outwards, with each arch causing a layer of rock to peel away.
Sun Wukong slammed his golden cudgel on the ground, the shaft humming. "Awake?" He grinned, blood still smeared on his teeth. "Perfect, let's give him another blow."
"Don't move," Chen Fan said in a hoarse voice. His throat was dry, and his chest burned with pain; the blow had almost displaced his internal organs. But his eyes didn't leave the rock.
The stone was fully exposed. It was about the size of a washbasin, and the patterns on its surface began to glow, not with firelight, but with a cold, eerie blue light. The blue light spread along the patterns, and wherever it passed, the rock wall did not melt, but rather "faded"—the color seemed to be washed away by water, revealing the grayish-white, lifeless base underneath.
The pass was burning hot in his arms. He pulled it out; the palm-sized bronze plaque, which originally had only three shallow marks, now had one mark glowing brightly, as if molten silver was flowing in a trough. The glowing mark pointed towards the stone.
"Look at this." Chen Fan held up the sign.
Pigsy, panting heavily, approached, his eyes wide: "This stone... it moves?"
"It's not a stone," Sha Wujing said softly, gripping his staff tightly. "It's part of the 'door'."
Chen Fan hummed in agreement. He ran his fingers along the gleaming marks on the sign, feeling the cool touch. Then he looked at the stone—the "eye." The blue light intensified, and something seemed to be slowly rotating within the patterns. Not a living being, but more like… a gear.
"It's spinning." Sun Wukong squinted.
Just then, the bluish light on the stone's surface suddenly receded. All the light retreated to the center, converging into a single, blinding white point. Immediately afterward, that white point "shot" out—not a beam of light, but a thin, almost invisible slit.
The crevice appeared in the air, about a person's height above the ground, about a palm's length long and no wider than a hair's width. Behind the crevice was not a rock wall, but some extremely faint, hazy nothingness. It was neither the light of the heavens nor the darkness of the underworld, but a kind of...colorless emptiness.
A breeze blew in from the crack. It was cold, odorless, but when it touched his face, Chen Fan's hairs stood on end. It wasn't cold, nor fear, but a feeling of being watched. Countless gazes fell from the crack, landing on him, and on everyone else.
"Outside..." Pigsy's rake clattered to the ground. "Where is that?"
"The ninth floor," a voice said.
The gray-robed sutra reader emerged from the shadows, appearing beside him seemingly out of nowhere. His robe was spotless, and the scroll in his hand was a worn, yellowed hue. He stared at the narrow slit, as if watching, or perhaps listening.
“The outer edge,” he said, “the seam between the experimental field and nothingness. The three realms are bubbles, the waste stream is broken debris, and here…” He paused, “is the membrane of the bubble. Thin, but strong. Usually, it can’t be broken.”
Chen Fan squinted: "How did it break?"
The man in the gray robe turned to look at him, his gaze heavy beneath the hood: "Someone poked a hole in it from the inside."
The air went still for a moment.
Sun Wukong suddenly laughed, his laughter dry and hoarse: "Inside? Who the hell is inside? Besides us penned animals, who else is there?"
The man in the gray robe didn't answer. He slowly raised his hand, pointing to the narrow slit. The slit was still there, but the blue light had vanished, leaving only the hazy gray cut, like a stroke drawn on a canvas.
"You did it," Chen Fan said. It wasn't a question.
The gray robe and hood shifted slightly, a nod in acknowledgment. "The pass marker has recognized its master. The Ninth Experimental Field is actively digging a hole outwards for the first time."
"What's the point?" Chen Fan pressed. He didn't believe the old man was simply being kind.
The man in the grey robe smiled, a faint curve to his lips. "Meaning?" he repeated, his fingers lightly tracing the edge of the scripture. "The meaning is... that the outside world isn't empty. There's 'something.' There's a 'path.' And... 'evaluation.'"
He said the last word very softly, but Chen Fan heard it.
Chen Fan didn't ask any more questions. He turned around and looked behind him. Claw marks from the giant beast's bite remained on the rock face, and broken pieces of celestial armor lay on the ground, mixed with demon blood and dirt. Sun Wukong stood leaning on his staff, a deep, bone-revealing wound on his shoulder, blood dripping from the staff. Zhu Bajie clutched his stomach, his face pale, whether from pain or fear, it was unclear. Sha Wujing was counting the remaining demons; seven or eight of the dozen or so demons remained, all wounded, but their eyes were bright, fixed on the crevice.
New faces. New and unknown.
Chen Fan brushed the dust off his hands, the taste of blood still lingering in his throat. "Same as always," he said, "scouting ahead."
He called for two people. One was called "Remnant Model," originally a minor demon from Mount Jilei. He had the most pitiful appearance, with half his face gone after being struck by lightning, and his eyeballs hanging from his forehead. However, he was the most agile, able to burrow through piles of rubble like a mouse. The other was called "Scrap Case," originally a vanguard of Mount Hao. He was skilled in feng shui and navigation, and his feet were calloused, allowing him to walk on steep slopes as if they were flat ground. Unfortunately, he wasn't very bright and could only mechanically execute orders.
The two stepped forward. The remaining eye of the mangled model gleamed, while the abandoned case shrank its neck, clutching half a broken spear in its hand.
"Behind the seam," Chen Fan pointed, "go in three feet and see what's there. Touch what you can, if you can't, go back. Three breaths."
The two nodded. The tattered mold peeked out, followed by the discarded case.
The slit was narrow, as thin as a hair. The mannequin pressed his face against it, his single eye narrowing into a slit. Suddenly, he shuddered, as if electrocuted. The scrapped model tried to pull him back, but it was too late—the mannequin leaned forward, "squeezing" itself inside. There was no sound, no light, like water seeping into sand, simply vanished.
The rejected case left him stunned.
Just three breaths have passed.
Suddenly, a hand emerged from the crevice—the hand of a mangled object. Its fingers were twisted, and its wrist had a strange, inhuman curve. The hand desperately tried to pull itself out, its nails scraping against the rock face with a hissing sound.
He reached out and grabbed the discarded document.
CREEEEEK——
The seam suddenly "opened." Not widened, but its edges twisted, like a gaping mouth. The mold fragment was flung out, flying backward, crashing against the rock wall, and rolling down. He lay on the ground, his limbs twitching, white foam bubbling from his mouth, his eyes rolling back.
"A broken mold!" The discarded design was rushed over.
Chen Fan had already stepped forward. He pressed down on the mangled model's wrist; its pulse was erratic, like a mad horse. He then touched the back of the neck; something was moving under the skin, a lump protruding, crawling up the spine.
"Peel it," Chen Fan said immediately.
Sha Wujing flipped his staff, transforming it into a small knife. He skillfully sliced open the skin on the back of the mangled neck; no blood came out, only a viscous, bluish liquid. Immediately afterward, a translucent object, about the length of a finger, was pulled out—like a centipede, but without segments, soft all over, wriggling between Sha Wujing's fingers, emitting a faint, high-frequency buzzing sound.
Chen Fan held the sign up in front of the thing.
The buzzing stopped. The thing froze, then rapidly shrank, turning into ashes that leaked through Sha Wujing's fingers.
"The spy is dead," Chen Fan said, without looking at the mangled model. The mangled model was still twitching, but his eyes were fixed, and his pupils were dilated. Fei An held him, his hands trembling.
"Let's investigate again." Chen Fan looked at the abandoned case.
He looked up from the abandoned case, his face a mixture of blood and tears: "I..."
"You're bolder than him," Chen Fan said calmly. "Or do you want to become like him now?"
Fei's teeth chattered, but he slowly stood up. He took a deep breath and walked to the crevice. This time he was smarter; he didn't press his face against it, but used the broken spear shaft to slowly insert it.
The stick went in three inches. Suddenly, the stick itself began to "fade"—not that it got dirty, but that its color disappeared, and the wood turned grayish-white, like paper that had been soaked in water. Then, the tip of the stick silently "melted," not into a liquid, but into fine, luminous powder, which was swept away by an unseen wind from the crevice and disappeared.
The stick was abruptly pulled back. The stick was three inches shorter, the break smooth, as if it had been cut by the sharpest knife.
"Did you see it clearly?" Chen Fan asked.
Fei An nodded, his face pale. "There's...something inside 'eating' color. And...sounds." He swallowed hard. "Very faint sounds, like...many people turning the pages of a book at the same time."
Chen Fan remained silent. He looked at the gray-robed man. The gray-robed man crossed his arms, his hood slightly tilted, as if he were smiling.
"Let's explore one more time," Chen Fan said. "Take this with you." He tore off a corner of his clothes, dipped it in the remaining blue liquid, and drew a crooked symbol on the cloth—one of the three marks on the pass marker.
Fei An took the cloth, his hands still trembling. He slipped the cloth back into the seam.
This time, the cloth didn't disintegrate immediately. It floated in the seams, and Chen Fan could see the edges slowly and steadily turning to ash. Five breaths later, the discarded case was abruptly retrieved, leaving only a palm-sized piece of cloth. The symbols on it were still clear, but the colors had faded considerably.
More importantly, there are more things on the cloth.
Two pieces. The size of a little fingernail, thin as a cicada's wing, translucent, and weightless in the hand. One piece has some fine, unrecognizable engravings, like some kind of writing, or like fragments of a map. The other piece... is a small, cool metal piece, oval, with smooth edges, and three words engraved on the front: Assessment Signature.
Chen Fan took the two "fragments" and held them in his hand. The fragments were cold to the touch, neither gold nor jade, and the three characters on the front were raised with sharp strokes. He turned them over, and the back was just as smooth, with nothing on it.
The gray-robed figure appeared beside him without his noticing, glanced at the slip of paper, and his hood swayed almost imperceptibly.
"What did you write?" Chen Fan asked.
The grey-robed man's voice was low: "The risk assessment for the Ninth Experimental Field is high. Value: To be determined."
"Pending?" Chen Fan repeated. Pending means there is no conclusion, or the conclusion is too risky to write.
The man in the grey robe nodded. "The assessment report is just a record, not a judgment. Its arrival means..." He paused, "...that someone above has noticed us. Not out of curiosity, but an assessment. An assessment of whether we are 'qualified' to continue existing."
The air seemed to freeze. Pigsy's panting stopped. Sandy gripped his staff tightly.
Qualification? Existence?
Chen Fan carefully tucked the torn pages and slips of paper into his robes, pressing them close to his chest. His face was expressionless, but in his eyes, the wildfire hadn't died down; instead, it burned even brighter, carrying a hint of madness.
He slowly walked to the narrow crevice. The crevice was still there, hazy and gray, like a scar on the world. He reached out, but didn't dare touch it, stopping right there in front of it. The wind blew out from inside, carrying countless gazes onto his face.
"High?" Chen Fan said in a low voice, grinning at the seam and at the "evaluator" who was nowhere to be seen, his teeth still stained with blood. "High is good. If it's not high, it's meaningless."
He turned and scanned the crowd. Wounded soldiers and disabled officers, their faces still showing shock, all had their eyes fixed on him.
"I've lived this long," Chen Fan said, each word slamming into the ground, "and I've never been afraid of 'evaluation'."
He paused, his gaze sweeping over Sun Wukong, over the gray robe, and finally back to the slit.
"Now that the door's ajar," he said, "I'm going to take a look today—"
He took a step forward, half his body already inside the crevice. The man in the gray robe suddenly raised his hand, then stopped.
Chen Fan stopped just half a foot away from the crevice. He could feel the suction of the emptiness inside, and countless gazes were glued to his skin. He took a deep breath, and the earthy smell of the rock, the rusty smell of blood, and the odorless emptiness of the crevice rushed into his nostrils.
He turned around and looked at his own people. He saw Sun Wukong's tightly gripped staff, Zhu Bajie's rake picked up from the ground, Sha Wujing's staff protecting the broken mold, and the wounded but still standing little demons.
Then, he turned back, facing the crack, facing the nothingness outside the crack, facing the "evaluator" who might be watching, and slowly, clearly uttered three words:
"What's inside?"
As soon as he finished speaking, his clothes fluttered even without wind. Under everyone's watchful eyes, the narrow slit slowly opened a little wider.
It's not a crack, it's "growth." It's like something is pushing out from the crack, trying to completely rupture this membrane.
The chapter concludes with a cliffhanger: A pale hand emerges from the crevice, fingers spread, palm down, directly above Chen Fan's head. The lines on the palm are clear, yet unlike any other being in the Three Realms—the lines are composed of fine geometric lines, slowly rotating, like some extremely precise gears meshing.
Chapter 408 First Glimpse Outside the Seam
Chen Fan stared at the pale hand.
The gear-like patterns on his palms were still turning, and with each turn, his temples throbbed. Sun Wukong stood in front, holding his golden cudgel, while the Bull Demon King and his wife formed a triangle. Tang Sanzang clasped his hands together, chanting the Tightening-Headband Mantra—although the mantra no longer worked on Wukong, Tang Sanzang was used to it.
"It's aiming at my head," Chen Fan said.
Sun Wukong gritted his teeth: "Nonsense! I, Old Sun, can see it!"
"What is it waiting for?" the white dragon horse's voice came from behind.
Chen Fan knew perfectly well. It was waiting for him to make a choice: stick his head out and let it pat him, or pull his head back and pretend he hadn't seen anything.
But Chen Fan is not the kind of person who would back down.
He steeled his resolve and took a sudden step forward.
This step went straight through the narrow gap.
***
The view changed instantly.
If the Ninth Experimental Field is a misty morning, then this is the twilight before a storm. The sky is black, but not a pure black—in the distance, there are countless points of light, like shattered mirrors, each fragment reflecting a different scene.
Chen Fan saw a burning grassland with thousands of kneeling figures on it, and a giant guillotine hanging above their heads.
He saw an upside-down mountain peak with a sword stuck at its tip, the word "Destiny" engraved on the hilt.
He also saw...
"Damn it," Chen Fan cursed under his breath.
Directly in front of him floated countless fragments. These fragments varied in size, some as large as a continent, others as small as a pebble. Each fragment was shrouded in a faint light, within which cities, mountains and rivers, or simply a desert could be vaguely discerned.
Those were experimental fields.
Chen Fan instantly understood. The worlds within those light screens were all "experimental fields"—places where people were evaluated, tested, and their fates decided. The Ninth Experimental Field was just one of them.
The narrow crevice he had just been in was merely a tiny crack within this vast space.
Some of the fragments had completely darkened. Gray, like dead rocks.
Some are still struggling. They light up briefly, then go out, then light up again, like candlelight in the wind.
Chen Fan's gaze swept over the nearest fragment. On it, a temple was reflected in the light screen, and a monk stood at the temple gate, holding a staff in his hand.
"That is..." Chen Fan narrowed his eyes.
At the top of the staff is a skull.
"Journey to the West?" Chen Fan's heart skipped a beat. The monk's attire resembled a certain version of Tang Sanzang. But the light screen was too blurry, and he couldn't see any more details.
A fragment is a slice of life. An experimental field is a pre-arranged story.
Chen Fan suddenly felt a churning in his stomach. He, Chen Fan, a transmigrator, thought he had broken free from fate, thought he had overturned the plot—but what was the result? He had merely jumped from one experimental field to the edge of another.
He wasn't even sure if he belonged to a larger fragment.
"Chen Fan!" Sun Wukong's voice came from behind, muffled and unclear, as if through a thick membrane, "What did you see?!"
Chen Fan didn't turn around. He was afraid that if he did, he would lose the courage to take that step.
"A huge space," he said, his voice flat. "There are many... many experimental fields. Floating here, like garbage."
"Trash?" the Bull Demon King's voice rang out. "You call that trash? I, Old Bull, saw it; that's the world!"
"These are all abandoned worlds," Chen Fan said. "Some are dead, and some are still waiting to die."
He took a deep breath and continued forward.
The path beneath my feet is not a path, but emptiness. But with each step, a faint ripple appears beneath my feet, like water, or some other medium.
Chen Fan walked forward about ten steps.
Then he saw the tower.
***
The tower is very tall. So tall that you can't see the top.
The tower is pure black, its surface covered with patterns—not the kind of fancy decorative patterns, but extremely regular patterns, like those on a circuit board. The patterns extend from the base to the top of the tower, each one precise, as if someone had measured and drawn it with a ruler.
There is a huge plaque on the tower, which reads:
The seventh evaluation tower of the continuation group.
Chen Fan stopped in his tracks.
"The sequel writing group?" He frowned.
He had seen this word before. In the system. In that so-called "continuation qualification". But at the time, he didn't think about it in detail, just assuming it was the name of some department within the system.
Now it seems that's not the case at all.
Continue the story. Evaluation Tower.
These words, taken together, only illustrate one thing—
Someone is using this tower to evaluate the quality of the "sequel".
Chen Fan's heart skipped a beat.
If the Ninth Experimental Field is a "work" being evaluated, then the continuation writing group is the one responsible for scoring it. And this tower is their "office"!
The owner of this tower...
Chen Fan raised his head and looked up at the top of the tower.
The top of the tower was shrouded in darkness, nothing could be seen. But he could sense that the darkness was not ordinary darkness, but rather a kind of...gaze.
Someone was watching him from the top of the tower.
And there's more than one.
Chen Fan suddenly turned his head.
Several hundred meters away from him, on the edge of another fragment, stood several small black dots. Those small black dots were also watching him.
One of the small black dots moved, as if it was making some kind of gesture.
Friend or foe?
Chen Fan couldn't see their faces clearly, but he could feel their gazes—cold, scrutinizing, as if they were looking at lab rats.
"Damn it." Chen Fan cursed again.
He didn't move. Neither did the little black dots. The standoff lasted for a few seconds.
Then Chen Fan made a decision.
He quickly scanned his surroundings, memorizing everything he could see—the outline of the tower, the location of the fragments, the positions of the small black dots, and the floating lights in the sky.
He doesn't need to understand all of this. He just needs to remember it.
Remember it, then go back.
Chen Fan turned around and started walking back.
One step, two steps, three steps...
Just as he was about to pass through that narrow gap—
One hand.
A paper-white hand reached in through the crack.
The hand's five fingers were spread out, the fingertips long and slender, as if soaked in water. The palm was facing down, directly above Chen Fan's head.
Chen Fan turned his head to dodge.
The hand brushed against his scalp, bringing with it a chilly breeze.
Then, three more appeared.
Four paper hands peeked out from the cracks, as if they couldn't wait to squeeze into this experimental field.
"Go back!" Sun Wukong's roar came from behind.
The golden cudgel swept across.
A paper hand was struck, and pieces of paper flew everywhere, like crumpled old newspapers.
But more hands are squeezing in through the cracks.
Chen Fan made a final dash, slipping through the narrow gap.
Behind him, the slit was widening at a visible rate.
It's like something is trying to squeeze in from the outside.
Chen Fan landed, his legs buckled, and he almost knelt down.
Sun Wukong grabbed him and steadied him: "How are you? What did you see?"
Chen Fan was panting heavily, his mind filled with the image of that tower.
"It's a vast world," he said. "There are countless testing grounds. There are evaluation towers. There are... enemies."
Tang Sanzang asked, "Who are you?"
Chen Fan glanced at him, hesitated for a moment, and said, "I don't know. But they have towers. Lots of towers. The seventh evaluation tower of the continuation group... they are the ones who score."
"Give a score?" the Bull Demon King snorted. "Give what score?"
Chen Fan did not answer.
He was thinking about those little black dots. Those people standing on the edge of the wreckage, gazing at this place from afar.
What are they looking at?
What are they waiting for?
The crack is still widening.
Those paper hands were still reaching inside.
Beyond that narrow crevice, in that boundless darkness, Chen Fan knew—
Someone is watching all of this.
(To be continued)
Chapter 409 The Hands Outside
A thin crack crawled across the stone wall, like a wound forcibly torn open. A pale, paper hand emerged from the crack, as thin as a cicada's wing, yet with edges as sharp as a knife, bringing with it a chilling gust of wind and a strange smell of old paper and rust. Ink-like black liquid dripped from its fingertips, each drop hissing and etching a small pit into the stone.
"Back off!" Chen Fan roared, stomping his foot and slashing his hands rapidly through the air. Two beams of silver light shot from his fingertips, intersecting and striking the narrow gap. "First, Space Freeze! Second, Reverse Flow Seal!"
Silver light seeped into the stone wall, and the crack suddenly stopped. The speed of expansion seemed to be frozen, and the paper hand stopped in mid-air, motionless, with only the fingertips still trembling slightly.
"Good! It's sealed off!" Pigsy said, panting heavily as he carried his rake.
"Don't rush," Sha Wujing said in a low voice, holding his demon-subduing staff horizontally in front of his chest. "That thing is exerting force."
Sure enough, a "creaking" sound came from the edge of the slit, like leather being torn. The paper hand began to move inch by inch, slowly but surely.
"Damn it, this is a tough nut to crack!" The Bull Demon King spat, holding his two axes horizontally in front of him.
Chen Fan's forehead was beaded with sweat: "These two rules can only suppress it temporarily; they won't last long..."
Before the words were even finished, Sun Wukong had already leaped to the crevice, golden cudgel in hand. He stared intently, then grinned, "You little worm, daring to run wild on my old Sun's territory?"
As soon as he finished speaking, the golden cudgel crashed down with a thunderous roar! "Bang!" A muffled sound rang out, and the paper hand snapped in two. The severed hand floated in the air for a moment, then suddenly transformed into a gray-white sheet of paper, which drifted down lightly.
"Brother Bajie is awesome!" Bajie gave a thumbs up.
Sun Wukong put away his golden cudgel and snorted, "A mere trick."
"Be careful, it might be a trap!" Sha Wujing warned.
But Pigsy had already used his rake to lift the page: "Huh? There are words on this."
Chen Fan took it and saw that the paper had lines of small print printed on it, neatly arranged:
"Third test site: took seven days, standard structure complete, data structure complete, and has been incorporated into the seventh evaluation tower."
"Sixth Experimental Field: Three days in, localized conflict, followed by voluntary submission."
"Tenth Experimental Field: Half a day's work, no resistance, direct formatting."
……
The crowd gathered around, gasping in shock.
"This...this isn't a war!" The Bull Demon King's eyes widened. "This is recruitment!"
"And the efficiency is astonishing," Sha Wujing said in a deep voice, "from three days to half a day, and it's getting faster and faster."
Chen Fan traced the words with his finger, his heart heavy: "They're not here to fight, they're here to 'evaluate.' Our previous battles probably don't even qualify as evaluation criteria in their eyes."
"An evaluation?" Pigsy's voice was dry. "What score did they give me, Old Sun?"
"I'm afraid," Chen Fan said with a wry smile, "we're not the kind of people who are qualified to be evaluated—I'd suggest we be 'merged' directly."
He turned to the back of the page, and everyone held their breath.
The last page contains only one line of text, cold and concise:
"It is recommended that the Ninth Experimental Field be merged into the Seventh Evaluation Tower as soon as possible."
The stone wall fell into a deathly silence.
"Merge in?" Pigsy's voice was dry. "What do you mean?"
"So you're telling us to surrender or be swallowed up?" The Bull Demon King's face was ashen. "You're just offering suggestions without even fighting?"
Chen Fan stared at the words, his fingers tightening slightly. He looked up into the endless darkness beyond the slit, where countless eyes seemed to be watching. The Seventh Assessment Tower… what kind of place is that? When will they come back?
The cracks were still slowly widening, and new paper hands were sprouting from the darkness, their fingertips dripping ink and etching small holes into the stone ground.
"Brother Monkey," Sha Wujing looked at Sun Wukong, "why don't we charge out now while they only have one hand left?"
"No," Chen Fan shook his head, "This is just a test. If we go out, we might be playing right into their hands."
"What should we do then?" Pigsy asked anxiously, "Just wait around?"
"Reinforce the seal," Chen Fan took a deep breath, "and prepare to fight back. But remember, this is not a civil war, it's an external war. We can settle our past grievances after we defeat the enemy."
The Bull Demon King snorted, "The strategist is right. We should unite against the enemy first."
Sun Wukong slammed his golden cudgel on the ground: "Fine! I, Old Sun, will guard this place. Anyone who dares to come, I'll beat them up!"
At this moment, the white dragon horse transformed into a young man, holding a long spear: "I support Chen Fan's judgment. These 'evaluators' are not simple; we need to plan carefully."
Even Tang Sanzang, who always chanted Buddhist scriptures, spoke up: "Amitabha. With foreign enemies at hand, we should value peace. But if they insist on annexing us, my Flower Fruit Mountain will never surrender."
Chen Fan nodded: "Okay. I'll refine the rules now and seal off the gaps completely. Wukong, you protect me, and the rest of you keep watch around."
"Leave it to me!" Sun Wukong replied, twirling his golden cudgel in a flourish.
Chen Fan raised his hand again, silver light flashing. This time, the silver light was more condensed, faintly carrying fluctuations of laws. He uttered a low shout: "Spatial solidification, reverse flow sealing, double superposition, seal!"
The slit suddenly narrowed, becoming almost invisible. The newly formed paper hand, which had just extended a finger, was abruptly trapped and unable to move.
"Is it done?" Pigsy leaned closer to take a look.
Chen Fan shook his head: "It's only temporary. They're outside, and their strength is endless. We can't hold out for a whole day."
"What should we do then?" asked Sha Wujing.
Chen Fan looked at Sun Wukong: "Wukong, when you struck that hand with your staff, did you hit the hand itself, or some kind of attached force?"
Sun Wukong scratched his head: "I just smashed it down with my staff, and it felt... pretty brittle, like it was made of paper."
"Paper..." Chen Fan mused, "Their true form might be some kind of information entity or rule entity. Physical attacks are effective, but the source is external."
At that moment, the paper hand stuck in the seam suddenly trembled violently, and ink gushed from its fingertips, writing several distorted words in the air: "**Assessment Progress: 17%**".
The words flashed by in an instant.
"They're counting!" the Bull Demon King exclaimed.
Chen Fan's expression darkened: "Seventeen means that sixteen experimental sites have already been evaluated. We are ninth, the numbers don't match... This indicates that some experimental sites have been merged and evaluated."
"Then what is the seventeenth?" Sha Wujing asked.
Before he finished speaking, the narrow slit suddenly widened outwards! A tremendous force slammed in, and Chen Fan's silver light rippled.
"Watch out!" Chen Fan shouted.
Sun Wukong swept his golden cudgel across: "Want to break through? No way!"
"Bang!" Another sound rang out, but this time, the crack only paused for a moment before continuing to expand.
"They're serious!" Pigsy exclaimed, jumping up and down.
Chen Fan gritted his teeth: "Two rules aren't enough, I have to add more! But my power of laws is limited..."
"Use my strength!" Sun Wukong shouted, his golden cudgel plunging into the crevice in the rock, its shaft gleaming with golden light. "My strength is real; let's see if you can hold it down!"
Chen Fan's eyes lit up: "Yes! Your power is real; it can resist their rule-altering influence!"
He formed hand seals again, the silver light intertwining with the golden light of the golden cudgel, striking into the crack in the stone. The rate at which the crack expanded finally slowed, but ink still seeped out, and smoke rose from the stone where it dripped.
"We can't hold out like this for long," Chen Fan gasped. "We need more information. Bajie, give me that piece of paper again."
Pigsy handed over the paper. Chen Fan quickly scanned the cases and suddenly noticed a crossed-out message with blurry handwriting:
"Experimental Field No. ?: Consumption unknown, encountered strong resistance, evaluation interrupted. Marked as 'Anomalous Entity'."
"Anomalies?" Sha Wujing leaned closer. "Which testing ground?"
The number was unclear. But a thought struck Chen Fan: they were not invincible; they had encountered resistance before.
"See that?" the Bull Demon King pointed at it. "There's strong resistance! That means they're afraid too!"
"But it might just be a matter of time," Chen Fan said calmly. "We have to prepare for the worst."
The slits continued to widen, and paper hands emerged one after another, more and more. Chen Fan's silver light and Sun Wukong's golden light intertwined to form a net, but the net was shrinking.
"At this rate," said Bailong Road, "we'll be worn down."
Just as Chen Fan was about to speak, he suddenly saw a symbol slowly emerge from the palm of the foremost paper hand: a tower with seven stories, each with a closed eye.
"The Seventh Assessment Tower..." Chen Fan murmured.
Suddenly, the paper hands all turned towards Chen Fan, the emblems in their palms emitting a faint glow. Then, all the paper hands exploded simultaneously, turning into a shower of paper ash, the words on the paper floating in the air:
"Ninth Experimental Field: Evaluation Level - D. Recommendation: Merge into the Seventh Evaluation Tower as soon as possible. Deadline: Three hours."
The words and phrases have vanished.
The crack stopped widening, but left a clear fissure, like an ugly scar.
"Three hours?" Pigsy jumped up. "They'll come and devour us in three hours?"
"It's not swallowing," Chen Fan said, his face pale. "It's evaluation. If the evaluation fails, they will forcibly merge it in."
"Then how do we know if we've passed?" Sha Wujing asked.
He didn't know. But Chen Fan knew he couldn't just sit and wait to die.
"We need to take the initiative," he said, looking at Sun Wukong. "Wukong, can you break through space and fight your way out?"
Sun Wukong scratched his head: "Breaking through this crack is easy, but who knows what's outside? What if it's a trap..."
"We must investigate," Chen Fan said, "otherwise, in three hours, we'll be waiting to die."
Just as everyone was discussing, the page suddenly turned to the last page on its own, without any wind. The last line of text slowly changed, adding a few small words:
**Countdown: 2:59:47**
Time began to pass.
Inside the cave, everyone looked at each other in bewilderment.
Chen Fan clenched his fist: "Get ready. In three hours, either we'll be wiped out, or... we'll uncover the secrets of the Seventh Assessment Tower and take it down!"
Sun Wukong grinned: "Even better if we take it! My hands are itching for a fight!"
Pigsy: "But how do we get out? This seam is sealed."
Chen Fan stared at the narrow opening, a blazing fire in his eyes: "Since they use rules, we'll use even harsher rules. Wukong, I'll borrow your golden cudgel, superimpose my laws, and forcefully tear open a gap—not to escape, but to explore!"
"Alright!" Sun Wukong replied.
Beyond that narrow crevice, in the darkness, countless eyes watched silently.
Is the bell of the Seventh Assessment Tower about to ring?
Chen Fan slowly raised his head, his voice hoarse:
"The Ninth Experimental Field... It is recommended that it be merged into the Seventh Evaluation Tower as soon as possible."
Chapter 410 The Seventh Evaluation Tower Has Its Eyes on Us
"The Seventh Assessment Tower?"
The Bull Demon King paused, his rake halting in his hand. "What's that thing?"
Chen Fan didn't answer immediately. He looked down at the red arrow in his hand. It was no longer hot, but the patterns on it were constantly changing—like the pulse of some kind of creature, throbbing.
"Simply put, they are the ones who give the scores." Chen Fan looked up. "The fact that the scorers are here means that our matter has gotten out of hand."
"Give a score?" Pigsy leaned closer, still chewing on the dry rations he'd just stolen. "Give what score?"
"Assess our danger level." Chen Fan put the arrow back in his pocket. "There were at least thirty people standing outside that crack. They were watching, recording... like they were evaluating an experiment."
Sun Wukong slammed his golden cudgel on the ground: "I don't care about any tower or anything like that. If they dare to reach out, I, Old Sun, will smash them to pieces!"
"Wukong, don't be impulsive." Chen Fan pressed down on his shoulder. "This time is different. They're not heavenly soldiers and generals, they're something much higher. We're now... like the ones who flipped the table on the chessboard, someone's going to recalculate our score."
The atmosphere was a bit somber.
The white dragon horse suddenly spoke up: "I've seen those people's clothes before."
Everyone looked at him.
"Back at the Flowing Sand River," the white dragon horse said in a low voice, "those guys were wearing white robes without any patterns, standing on clouds looking down... I thought they were gods at the time. Later I learned they were 'observers.' They didn't participate in the battle, they just recorded."
"Record what?" Tang Sanzang asked.
"Record... what's worth recycling, and what should be destroyed." The white dragon horse glanced at Chen Fan, "including you."
Chen Fan laughed: "Including me? Okay, then let them record as much as they want."
He turned around and looked at the group of people behind him—the demon soldiers of Flower Fruit Mountain, the remnants of the Abandoned Army, the Arhats who escaped from Mount Ling, and the wandering immortals wanted by the Heavenly Court.
"Let's get down to business now."
---
Application for upgrade.
These four words were like a fire, burning in everyone's hearts.
"Upgrade" is not simply about escaping or resisting, but a complete change of identity—from "experimental subject" to "independent existence." Once the upgrade is successful, the Seventh Evaluation Tower can no longer arbitrarily reclaim or destroy them; it must follow formal procedures.
But the prerequisite for the procedure is: materials.
"First, we need the approval of the Three Realms." Chen Fan held up one finger. "We need prominent figures from the Three Realms to publicly support us. We don't need many, but they must be influential."
Tang Sanzang immediately raised his hand: "I know the area around Mount Ling well. Although I've betrayed them, some old monks still believe in me. I'll go contact them!"
"Okay. Take two people with you, and be back quickly."
"Second, the results of the rules." Chen Fan looked at Sun Wukong. "Wukong, along the way you fought, the magical treasures you smashed, the formations you shattered, the chains of rules you trampled... these are all evidence. Compile them and report them."
Sun Wukong picked at his ear: "When have I ever remembered such things when I'm fighting?"
"Now is the time." Chen Fan looked at the local earth god beside him. "Could you please help me write this down, old man? Don't you love writing?"
The Earth God nodded with a bitter expression. Ever since Chen Fan "borrowed" him, he had been forced to play countless roles—accountant, clerk, archivist…
"Third, the record of repelling the recapture." Chen Fan's gaze swept over everyone. "How many times have we repelled the heavenly soldiers, how many times have we been ambushed at Mount Ling, how many times have we been cleared by the assessment team... we've counted them all. This is proof that we're alive."
The Bull Demon King snorted, "I have the right to speak on this. Just the strongholds I and my son destroyed, there were at least seventeen or eighteen!"
"Alright, this is for you and Red Boy."
"Fourth..." Chen Fan paused for a moment, "Evidence of Lingshan's exceptional treatment."
Tang Sanzang's face darkened: "You mean, those dirty deeds on Mount Ling?"
"Yes. Why can Mount Ling span the Three Realms? Where do their resources come from? How are those 'merits' calculated? The deals, manipulations, sacrifices behind it all... all of it needs to be laid out." Chen Fan's voice was cold. "It's not that we want to get rid of them, it's that they were never clean to begin with."
Tang Sanzang was silent for a moment, then nodded: "I'll do it."
"Fifth, internal documents of the Heavenly Court." Chen Fan looked towards a corner.
In the corner, Erlang Shen Yang Jian was sitting and polishing his three-pointed double-edged sword. Hearing this, he didn't even look up: "I can give you the Heavenly Court's data on the fission. But not for free."
What do you want?
"Help me get rid of the 'original' label." Erlang Shen raised his head, his eyes filled with complex emotions. "The freedom I want is not the freedom to be commanded by the Heavenly Court, but... the freedom not to be 'defined'."
Chen Fan paused for a moment, then smiled: "Deal."
---
Just as everyone was busy, the ground suddenly shook.
"What's going on?" The Bull Demon King jumped up.
Chen Fan pressed the red arrow in his pocket—it was burning hot again.
"It wasn't an earthquake." He slowly raised his head, looking at the still-healing sky above. "It was them, they started playing chess."
Somewhere in the sky, out of sight.
A tower.
A pure white tower, with no doors or windows, only endless floors, stacked one on top of another, with no end in sight.
At the top of the tower, someone struck a bell.
"when--"
The sound of the bell was very distant, as if it came from another world. But Chen Fan and the others heard it very clearly.
"Seventh Evaluation Tower, First Evaluation Initiated." A voice descended from above, "Ninth Experimental Site, Objective: Recovery. Progress: Pending."
Chen Fan clenched his fist.
"It seems they're not waiting any longer," he said in a low voice.
"What's there to be afraid of?" Sun Wukong slung his golden cudgel over his shoulder. "We'll meet force with force, and water with earth. We've been preparing for so long, who have we ever been afraid of?"
"Yeah, what's there to be afraid of!" the Bull Demon King roared back.
Chen Fan remained silent. He was pondering a question—what exactly were those evaluators assessing?
Is it their combat strength?
Or... what is the meaning of their existence?
If it's the latter, then things are in trouble.
---
Late at night, the campsite was brightly lit.
No one slept; everyone was rushing to complete various documents. The clerks responsible for recording were writing until their hands cramped, and the people checking the data had eyes as red as rabbits'.
Chen Fan sat on a large rock, looking at the pile of files in front of him.
"Not enough," he muttered to himself.
Beside him, Tang Sanzang handed over a pot of water: "What else is needed?"
"We have the recognition from the Three Realms, the evidence from Mount Ling, and the information from the Heavenly Court." Chen Fan took the water bottle. "The battle records of the abandoned army, the military inventory, the gains from the unfinished cases... all have been organized."
"What's still missing?"
Chen Fan paused for a moment.
"A document that all living beings jointly endorse," he uttered. "A document that allows everyone to acknowledge our existence. Not a signature, but... an endorsement. An endorsement that we are 'alive,' not 'experiments.'"
Tang Sanzang was stunned: "This...how do I do this?"
"I don't know." Chen Fan handed the water bottle back to him. "But I do know that if we don't get this, our chances of successfully upgrading are zero."
In the distance, the bells of the Seventh Assessment Tower rang again.
"when--"
This time, the bells seemed closer.
Chen Fan stood up and looked at the sky.
"We don't have much time left."
Chapter ending suspense:
In a corner of the camp, a scout rushed over in a panic, clutching a piece of paper in his hand.
"Strategist! Someone...someone delivered this!"
Chen Fan took the paper and unfolded it.
There is only one line of text above:
"Signatures from all beings? I can give them. But are you prepared to pay the price?"
Signature:
—Seventh Assessment Tower, Observer 001.
**Chapter 411 Joint Signature of the Entire Three Realms**
"Give me the pen!" Chen Fan shouted from a rock on the mountaintop.
Behind him, the troops of Flower Fruit Mountain had already formed two ranks. The residual heat of the golden cudgel shimmered in the night wind, and starlight was shattered into fragments by the blade.
The first row featured representatives of the demon race—a snake spirit with a blue face and fangs, a scorpion king draped in starlight and moonlight, and a red lotus enchantress clad in blood-red patterns. Their fingers trembled on the scrolls of paper, yet they signed their names without hesitation.
The second row consisted of cultivators from the mortal realm. There were disciples of the Cold Light Sword Sect of Northern Yue, the Camellia Monk of Emei, and a rogue cultivator who wished to remain anonymous. They tore off small pieces of silk ribbon from their sleeves and stuck them onto paper as markings.
Immediately afterwards, the generals of the abandoned army—Ironclad General Tie Feng and Iron-Blooded Infantry adjutant Liu Han—wielded a giant axe and slashed a horizontal line, symbolizing their "full support."
The remaining disciples of the old Buddhist sect were not to be outdone. They tore a page from an old copy of the Diamond Sutra, pasted it at the beginning of the scroll, and signed it with a firm hand.
However, the higher-ups of the Heavenly Court have yet to appear.
Above the clouds, auspicious clouds lingered, and thunder rumbled in the distance. Heavenly soldiers and generals stood in formation before the golden palace, their faces solemn.
The palace gates slowly opened, and a beam of golden light shone down. Erlang Shen's figure emerged from the pillar of light. He was clad in a red robe, and a hint of weariness lingered between his brows.
Everyone held their breath, only to hear Erlang Shen say softly, "This matter... allow me to think about it some more."
His fingers trembled slightly, yet he had already made a stroke on the scroll—just half a "〇".
"What does this half stroke represent?" Chen Fan frowned.
Erlang Shen looked up, his eyes dimming, yet still possessing an undeniable strength: "This means there are still divisions within the Heavenly Court. But at least, someone is willing to give you a chance."
An uproar erupted at the scene.
The snake spirit of the demon race glared angrily, blood splattering from the corner of her mouth: "You actually dare to let half a signature represent the will of the Heavenly Court?"
The disciple of the Cold Light Sword Sect sneered, "Half a stroke doesn't count as a signature; it's considered 'acquiescence'."
Tie Feng of the Fei Anjun laughed loudly: "Great, now we have two hands to work with."
Erlang Shen offered no further explanation, turned and left, the golden light dissipating with him.
Just then, a dull knocking sound came from the distant valley.
"Clang—clang—"
The sound waves pierced through the clouds and struck the rocks on the mountaintop.
"True core!" Chen Fan's gaze instantly locked onto the source of the sound.
The Eukaryote is an ancient stone monument, its back covered with ancient runes. It emits a pale blue glow under the starlight.
At the same time, the secondary furnace—a huge alchemical furnace—suddenly spewed out blazing flames, the firelight and the blue light of the true nucleus merging in the air to form a rotating halo.
At the center of the halo, a golden streamer slowly rose, shooting straight into the sky.
"Is this the resonance of a petition?" Chen Fan muttered to himself.
He raised his hand and gently unrolled the paper. The signatures at the beginning of the scroll were already dense, with only Erlang Shen's half-stroke standing out conspicuously.
"Roll this up and take it to the altar at Flower Fruit Mountain," he said, pointing to the stone altar at the foot of the mountain.
The four large characters "Signature of All Beings" were carved on the stone slab of the altar, and the entire mountain seemed to tremble slightly.
As the reel rolled up, the magma inside the mountain began to flow, as if blood were boiling.
"The petition for signatures from all beings has been completed." Chen Fan's voice echoed through the valley.
However, the last page of the scroll has a large blank space.
The system's text flashed on the blank space: "The executor needs to continue writing their self-certification commitment."
The atmosphere around them suddenly became tense.
A scout dressed in black robes rushed into the camp, clutching a secret letter tightly in his hand.
"Strategist! Someone delivered this!"
Chen Fan took the letter and quickly opened it.
There was only one line of blood-red text on the paper:
**A signature from all beings? I can give it. But are you prepared to pay the price?**
Signed – Seventh Evaluation Tower, Observer 001.
Chen Fan's eyes deepened in the lamplight.
He looked up at the clouds in the sky, where Erlang Shen's figure had turned into a wisp of mist.
"Time is running out." His voice was low, but filled with unwavering determination.
He then folded the paper into a triangle and placed it in the center of the altar.
The halo closed again, and silver runes began to seep into the blank spaces of the scroll.
"Fill it up," he whispered to himself.
In the distance, in the shadows of the third floor, a giant eye flickered on and off, as if waiting.