The End
Chapter 717: Look, we’re even
…The world fell into dead silence.
Wen Jianyan panted rapidly. He staggered a step forward, his gaze still fixed intently on the corpse not far away.
The three faces of the bronze statue looked down. Right in the center of the circle below, lay an already cold corpse.
Under the blood-colored skylight, the man’s throat was slashed open. The light had fled from his half-open eyes, leaving only unfeeling grayness, without the slightest bit of life.
This time, he would finally never wake up again.
“Clang!”
The bloodstained bronze knife slipped through pale, trembling fingers, smashing heavily onto the ground.
The string that had always been hung high in his heart finally loosened. Only then did Wen Jianyan feel dizzy. His knees lost strength, his two legs seemingly unable to support his weight anymore. His whole body went limp and sank downwards, the ground roaring as it approached him.
Exhale, inhale. His lungs made a strenuous noise like an overused bellows.
The roar of blood echoed in his ears.
Before his eyes, only a blur of color blocks remained.
The world seemed to be swaying. Chaotic sounds came from afar, making everything seem very distant and distorted, as if coming from another world.
It wasn’t until a pair of strong hands supported him up from the ground that Wen Jianyan dazedly raised his eyes. Within his swaying vision, he saw the sky falling apart bit by bit—overhead, the blood-red roof of the lake shattered piece by piece, falling around him like a rain of blood.
An arm passed under his ribs, wrapping around his back, a palm pressed tightly against the back of his neck, holding him tightly in an embrace like a child.
“He’s dead.”
The man’s voice came by his ear.
“You killed him with your own hands.”
A cold, heavy kiss landed on his forehead, lingering for a long time.
“It’s over.”
“…”
Wen Jianyan’s back arched bit by bit. He rested his forehead on Wu Zhu’s shoulder. His bloodstained, pale fingers spasmed, gripping his collar tightly. This time, he finally couldn’t hold back the overflowing emotions anymore, letting out low, broken sobs.
Scalding tears fell continuously, but before they hit the ground, they were cherished and taken away by the darkness gathering from all sides.
Wu Zhu lowered his eyes, tightly hugging the tense, trembling back of the young man in his arms, silently lowering his head, kissing the top of his hair over and over again.
Yes, Zhang Yunsheng was dead.
The former victim, and also the sole survivor, used a sharp blade to personally offer the final blood sacrifice for himself, and for all the tormented souls.
That orphanage that had permanently trapped the eight-year-old Wen Jianyan with despair, darkness, blood, and fire, finally turned into ruins at this moment.
Finally…
The raging fire was about to extinguish, the skylight gradually brightening.
Rumble.
The tremors around them became increasingly violent.
With Zhang Yunsheng dead, the factor interfering with the destination was eliminated, and order finally returned to the interior of the train.
The ground could finally no longer bear the Bodhisattva statues that were as tall as mountains, sinking deeply downward. Below, shattered bronze chains scattered all over the ground. Dense cracks spread from where the chains broke, extending all the way from the body to the face. The face of joy had already completely shattered, leaving only anger and sorrow.
This overlapping zone that appeared due to the train changing tracks was also starting to disappear.
Having experienced the dissipation of Fukang General Hospital, all of this was no longer unfamiliar to them.
Presumably, it wouldn’t be long before all of this vanished into thin air like a dream, leaving only the roaring train moving forward, taking them to their final destination.
“…”
Wu Zhu held Wen Jianyan’s hand that was pressing against his shoulder. With a gentle yet irresistible force, he spread open his spasming, tightly clenched palm, and kissed the bloody, mangled penetrating wound.
Wen Jianyan froze and gently moved his fingers.
Beneath the fresh blood, skin and flesh grew, muscles and bones healed, replaced by a ferocious scar running through the palm.
Wu Zhu encircled his wrist with one hand, lowered his eyelids, casting shadows from his deep brow bone, and landed another kiss on the scar in his palm.
“Sorry.”
He repeatedly rubbed that ferocious bulge with his thumb pad, so hard it was as if he wanted to smooth it out.
It was just a pity that the wound left by this bronze knife could not be completely healed even by him.
“…Ha.”
Wen Jianyan’s voice was still hoarse.
“It’s fine.”
He pressed his palm against the other’s chest—through the clothes, an identically undulating wound had once lay across the other’s chest, created by the same sharp weapon, and also stabbed down by his own hands, equally bloody, equally unable to fade.
One for hatred, one for love; one to kill, one to protect.
He pressed his forehead against Wu Zhu’s, letting out a very short laugh, his voice very light, “Look, we’re even.”
The two scars matched on their respective skin.
Just like the names they branded on each other’s bodies.
Entangled to the death, never to dissipate.
…
Just like that, under the gradually crumbling world, after quietly hugging his lover for half a minute, the originally turbulent emotions that had broken the dam finally calmed down bit by bit.
Wen Jianyan took a deep breath and staggered to his feet.
After getting up, the first thing he did was check on Yang Fan’s condition.
As if hearing his approaching footsteps, Yang Fan keenly turned his head, “looking” in Wen Jianyan’s direction. He opened his mouth, revealing a smile: “President… Ji Guan and the others told me everything that happened. So amazing… I knew you could definitely do it.”
The blood on his face had been carefully wiped clean by Ji Guan, but beneath his eyelids were empty eye sockets:
“Although I couldn’t see it, it must have been very cool.”
“…” Wen Jianyan’s throat choked up.
Wu Zhu could heal human bodies, but was powerless regarding damage to the soul.
And the melting of Yang Fan’s eyes was exactly the latter.
His all-out stare exhausted not just his talent, but directly left an incurable scar on his soul.
“En… of course,” Yang Fan paused, lowering his eyes, his expression a bit abashed, “This time, I wasn’t too bad either, right?”
“En!” Wen Jianyan responded, his eyes still red.
He reached out, grasped Yang Fan’s fingers that were groping blankly in the air, and said heavily, “Super cool!”
Not far away, a second loud noise came.
“Rumble!” The second Bodhisattva face crashed down, shattering into powder on the ground.
Only a single angry face remained hanging above, glaring down.
All around, everything began to crumble and disintegrate. The icy, blood-red lake water turned into fragments in the sky, like a heavy rain that would never end.
The cracks in the air gradually expanded, and the traces of the train could vaguely be seen.
Suddenly, Wen Jianyan seemed to sense something. He turned his head and looked behind him.
The bright red bridal sedan chair carried by the four paper dolls was right there. Two lanterns hung at the front of the sedan chair, one red and one white, one for joy and one for mourning. In the gradually crumbling world, they flickered with a faint, eerie cold light. The woman in red whose face couldn’t be seen clearly still sat inside the sedan chair, her hands folded and placed in front of her.
Looking at that figure that was still extremely cold and gloomy, making one’s hair stand on end just by looking at her…
This time, Wen Jianyan didn’t feel afraid.
“A-Yuan!”
He raised his voice.
Just like every time before, the woman in wedding clothes remained motionless, not making any reaction—she had been dead for many years, only her duty remained persistently in the form of a strong obsession, never to fade.
Wen Jianyan didn’t care whether she heard his voice or not. He just stared fixedly in that direction and said softly:
“I’m sorry, I couldn’t save you in the end.” He could only watch helplessly as the other party stepped onto her predestined fate.
“And…”
“Thank you, for everything you did.”
Guarding the building for a long time with a cursed body, carrying the power of thunder to suppress everything.
At what cost?
—Painful death, endless darkness, eternal loneliness.
—Name forgotten, existence feared, achievements erased.
She gave too much, but received too little.
In a daze, Wen Jianyan seemed to see again—
The young girl’s stubborn and bright eyes flashing in the darkness. She stared at him fixedly, the depths of her eyes holding a radiance that didn’t match her age:
“…If I leave, what will happen to the others?”
“Rumble!” The third Bodhisattva face crashed down.
The final anchor point maintaining the overlapping instances collapsed right here.
“Rise—”
Accompanied by the desolate and drawn-out sound of the suona horn, the blood-red sedan chair was lifted by the paper dolls, slowly moving towards the distance.
On the top of the bridal sedan chair sat a blood-red, furless cat. It let out a big yawn, leaped up, and landed inside the sedan chair. It nuzzled its head under the woman’s cold, pale palm painted with blood-colored nail polish, found a comfortable spot on her lap, and curled up.
Not knowing if it was an illusion, Wen Jianyan vaguely saw…
In the second before the instance vanished like floating clouds, through the blood-red curtain swaying with the sedan chair, the bridal veil that always covered the bride’s face lowered slightly. A pale, cold palm slowly covered the cat’s back, like some kind of silent response.
One sedan chair, one person, one cat drifted away in everyone’s sight.
Everything vanished into the darkness.
“Rumble—”
Everything belonging to the bottom of the lake faded like a phantom. The train roared, and howling winds compressed from all sides, whistling in through the already shattered windows—although the train was already tattered and riddled with scars, even missing several carriages, thank goodness its internal rules were still barely intact, and it was still operating according to its original order.
Outside the window was a deathly silent, dark wilderness. The vanished tracks had appeared again under the train at some unknown time, extending towards the unknown ahead.
“Creak!”
Inside Carriage Number One, accompanied by the sound of rusty friction, a door appeared out of nowhere and was pushed open from the inside.
Chen Mo’s breathing was unsteady. He barely raised his eyes to look at everyone: “Finally…”
“I almost thought I wouldn’t be able to wait for you guys.”
Behind him was the completely unscathed, intact train driver’s cabin. The Dead Sea Scrolls bound by human skin lay quietly on the dashboard, guiding the direction of the train.
—The Lucky Cruise Ship.
That was the beginning of everything, and, the end of everything.
*
Hugo reached into his pocket with his only remaining hand, struggling to fish out a cigarette box and lighter. But due to severe injuries and the disappearance of his dominant hand, his pale, bloody fingers operated unskillfully, and finally he had to rely on his teeth to barely pull a cigarette out.
He had just bitten the cigarette when the lighter slipped from his palm, falling to his feet with a clatter.
Seeing all this from not far away, Wen Ya couldn’t help but shake her head, walked over helplessly, and picked up the lighter from the ground.
Accompanied by a “hiss,” an orange-red flame leaped up.
“Thanks.” Hugo glanced at her, leaned down, and brought the crumpled cigarette on his lips close to the flame.
Wen Ya let go of the lighter, turned her head, and looked at the two corpses lying in a pool of blood not far away.
She was deep in thought.
“…The Lovers.”
“So, this is the hint left by the Prophet.” Wen Ya froze slightly, seeming to understand something, and turned to look at Hugo.
“En.” Hugo responded.
Light gray smoke rose, blurring his tired, weary deep eyes, mixing with the blood mist slowly surging from his body.
Ye Lin’s death was the first domino, and all this was no accident.
On one side was himself heavily injured, and a companion whose mind had regressed and had no ability to protect herself; on the other side was unknown chaos and dangerous enemies. Anyone with a brain should understand how to choose—Hugo was the same. But at the final juncture, he desperately chose the latter—because out of everyone, he was the only one who could realize what an inconceivable thing Ye Lin’s survival was, and how much complex, hidden emotion that couldn’t be spoken aloud was hidden behind it.
This slaughter had to be executed by Hugo himself, and this prophecy could only be answered by Hugo.
However, no matter what had existed behind all this, and what it represented…
Death meant everything was sealed away in dust.
“Can you still stand up by yourself?” Wen Ya turned her head, looked at Chen Cheng lying on the ground dying, and asked.
“I can.” Chen Cheng inhaled while struggling to get up. His face was as pale as a dead person, and the wounds on his body were still gurgling blood. Under his blood-soaked clothes, there was almost not a single piece of intact flesh left. Just as he moved a bit, his face twisted fiercely.
In the end, he had to resentfully stop trying to be brave: “…I can’t.”
Hugo bit his cigarette: “I’ll do it.”
After speaking, he stepped forward, leaned down, and pulled Chen Cheng’s arm onto his shoulder. One half-cripple dragging another half-cripple, their movements were quite strained. Wen Ya, whose condition was relatively better, shouldered the other half of Chen Cheng’s weight while holding the little girl’s hand beside her.
Just now in the critical moment, although Orange Candy used her talent to accurately reverse the fatal wound on Chen Cheng’s throat, her age regression had reached the limit of what a human could bear. If before, she was clear-headed most of the time and occasionally confused, now the situation was completely reversed. She looked up ignorantly, looked at the woman holding her hand, and stumbled forward on her two short little legs following her.
Just like this, the several people who were exhausted to their limits supported each other and staggered back along the original path.
Soon, the minus sixth floor of the Lucky Cruise Ship appeared not far away.
The dust had settled, the ruins were silent, and it was a mess all around. A hazy dark fragrance and a strong smell of blood floated in the air.
Hugo turned sideways and, together with Wen Ya, slowly placed Chen Cheng on the ground. Although the whole process took only half a minute and the movements were very simple, a layer of cold sweat still seeped out on their foreheads.
Wen Ya caught her breath: “And then?”
“What do we do next?”
Hugo bit his cigarette and slowly shook his head, just about to answer something, but suddenly stopped.
His ears seemed to catch some sound—distant, hazy, blurry—Hugo couldn’t help but freeze, subconsciously turning his head to look in the direction the sound came from.
This time, he wasn’t the only one who heard the sound. Even Chen Cheng, who was lying on the ground and had almost completely lost his mobility, forced himself to turn his head and cast his gaze in the same direction.
“Rumble!”
Separated by heavy walls, the sound seemed very weak, as if coming from a very distant place. However, in just a few short seconds, the sound actually amplified rapidly at an immeasurable speed. In just the blink of an eye, it had already become impossible to ignore.
The ground vibrated along with it, the amplitude getting larger and larger.
Amidst the clamorous noise, there seemed to be some unique sound mixed in:
“Choo-choo—”
Like… a train whistle?
All at once, Hugo seemed to realize something. He suddenly widened his eyes and said sternly: “Quick! Get out of the way!!!”
The few half-cripples pulled, dragged, and rolled each other to the side.
The next second, accompanied by a loud crash, the originally indestructible wall behind them was violently broken open from the outside!
“Choo choo choo choo choo choo—”
Amidst the sharp whistle sound, a tattered train, barely left with four iron walls, rushed straight in! The crooked front section of the train smashed deeply into the ground, as if unable to restrain its force, sliding and crashing inward out of control without slowing down in the slightest.
“Boom!!!”
Accompanied by a loud bang, the train engine crashed straight into the back wall.
Instantly, bricks and stones flew everywhere, and dust filled the air!
“Cough cough… cough cough cough!!!”
Hugo and Wen Ya staggered to their feet, coughing violently in the dust. Chen Cheng, who had been roughly dragged out of the danger zone by them left and right, lay in the ruins, his face pale, expression twisted, gasping for breath, having almost lost another half of his life. Orange Candy fell headfirst beside him, her short limbs flailing helplessly in the air.
But the two didn’t have time to care about their life or death. They just abruptly raised their heads, nervously looking in the direction of the uninvited guest.
A huge hole was broken open in the position that was originally the door of the auction house. The damaged rear end of the train skewed, sticking straight out of the hole. Through the fragmented, crumpled iron sheet, one could even see the utterly messy interior of the carriage.
Their gaze followed the train inward, looking deep into the gap it had crashed open.
The auction venue, which had originally been destroyed in their previous fight and was covered in fallen rocks and broken walls, had actually recovered to its original state at some unknown time, without even the slightest trace of battle.
How could this be?
Both were stunned, somewhat unable to believe their eyes.
Could it be—
Wait, no.
The next second, a sudden thought struck them like a blow to the head, making one almost forget how to breathe.
“…!”
Wen Ya jolted. She seemed to suddenly realize something, abruptly turned her head, and looked deep into the gap once again.
Scarlet walls, scarlet curtains, viscous air so thick it almost couldn’t melt away, and a gloomy, bizarre, pitch-black high platform.
Everything was so familiar, it was simply a replica of the scene in the nightmare.
She only felt her feet firmly nailed to the spot, her lips moving, murmuring in a low voice:
“…The real auction house.”
The real auction house that they had searched high and low for but couldn’t find, the one humans couldn’t participate in, had actually been broken through by the violently crashing train just like this, and completely, unreservedly appeared in front of them.
