The End
Chapter 718: Price
“Bang!” … “Bang!”
The already disfigured train door was tightly jammed within its twisted frame, being shaken from the inside, letting out banging sounds of impact.
A muffled voice came from behind:
“Damn it, this door is completely stuck—”
Before the voice could completely fall, the originally heavy train door deformed like a thin sheet of paper. In the blink of an eye, it was crumpled into a ball and thrown out with a “Clang,” rolling crookedly a couple of times on the ground before stopping.
“Done.” Wu Zhu said.
Figaro, who was still pushing the door: “…”
So what if you’re non-human?
Outside the disfigured carriage was the cold, dark, air-stagnant auction venue.
The traces they had made after coming here last time had vanished completely, as if that destruction had never happened. Aside from one wall being violently broken open by the train, everything else was completely intact.
The group supported each other and emerged from the already twisted and out-of-shape train.
Dust billowed all around, rubble was everywhere, and the deformed iron carriage was deeply gouged into the ground, leaving deep dents—this time, it seemed to have finally been devastated to its limit, reaching the end of its life, and could never be started again.
Wen Jianyan leaped out of the carriage, helping Ji Guan steady Chen Mo.
Just then, he heard a faint, somewhat hesitant voice from behind:
“…President?”
Wen Jianyan froze, stopped his movements, and turned his head to look in the direction the voice came from.
In the ruins behind, the dust gradually settled. A few figures went from blurry to clear bit by bit, appearing in his sight.
“…”
Staring at the several people opposite him who were covered in blood and in a sorry state, he was completely stunned.
And it was the same for Wen Ya.
She looked at the people walking out of the train, her gaze sweeping past Chen Mo’s deathly pale face, and finally landing on Yang Fan’s face.
Looking at the other party’s deeply sunken eyes, her heart couldn’t help but tremble, and she gritted her teeth tightly.
A heavy smell of blood hung in the air. The two groups of people, who had been in different spaces and times but experienced equally tragic battles, looked at each other across the ruins. They gazed at the blood and scars on each other’s bodies, and for a moment, no one could be the first to speak.
“Did I hear wrong? Who was speaking just now?”
Yang Fan raised his head. Although his eyes could no longer see, he still habitually searched in the direction the sound came from. His voice was blank but eager: “Why do I seem to have heard Sister Wen Ya’s voice…?”
“En.”
Wen Ya tried her best to steady her voice, took a deep breath, and pulled a forced smile.
“…It’s me, you didn’t hear wrong.”
“Sister Wen Ya!!” Yang Fan’s face lit up with pleasant surprise, “That’s great, we finally found you! I knew you guys would definitely be safe and sound!”
His blind and cheerful voice left hollow echoes between the walls.
Safe and sound, what a ridiculous term.
If there was any word in this world that had absolutely nothing to do with the few people in front of them, this was it.
Even though he couldn’t see, Yang Fan also sensed the bizarre silence in the atmosphere:
“What’s wrong?”
He raised his head blankly, looking around.
“…Your eyes,” At this point, Wen Ya paused, seeming to want to use this to hide the fluctuations of her emotions, “can they still recover?”
Hearing the other party’s question, a trace of loneliness swept across Yang Fan’s face, but soon, he smiled again and said helplessly, “This… probably can’t be done.”
This wasn’t a simple physical wound, but a side effect caused by the exhaustion of talent and the maiming of his soul.
Seeming to not want the other party to feel sad, he hurriedly added:
“Don’t worry, it’s very worth it!”
“Nightmare Number One will never come back again, the President killed him personally!” Yang Fan’s pride overflowed in his words, “And I helped a lot!”
“Yes.” Ji Guan came back to his senses. He took a deep breath, raised his hand and rubbed Yang Fan’s head vigorously, nodding his head, his tone certain, “You contributed immensely.”
Receiving such an affirmative compliment, Yang Fan couldn’t help but let out a “hehe” laugh, revealing a somewhat embarrassed posture.
“Then… what about you guys?”
Ji Guan raised his eyes, his gaze landing on the few people opposite.
Although he was mentally prepared, looking closely, his heart still couldn’t help but palpitate—the strength of the few people in front of him was beyond doubt. He could hardly imagine what they had encountered during the time they were separated to be consumed to such a point.
Even his tone carried a bit of probing.
“Did something happen?”
Wen Ya answered concisely:
“Dan Zhu and Ye Lin are already dead, they won’t pose any threat to us anymore.”
…No wonder.
An unexpected, yet reasonable answer.
This was Nightmare’s base camp, and Dan Zhu was the captain handpicked by Nightmare. To survive by their hands—even counter-kill—they were bound to pay a tragic price.
“But,”
The originally steadying voice suddenly choked.
Wen Ya took a deep breath, closed her eyes tightly, and after calming down for a few seconds, continued: “Su Cheng, he…”
“I know.”
It was Wen Jianyan’s voice.
This was the first sentence he had spoken since stepping into the cruise ship.
Wen Ya froze, couldn’t help but open her eyes, and looked in his direction.
The young man stood in the ruins, his eyes very distant, his voice as light as if it could be blown away by a gust of wind.
“I’ve already seen it.”
Before that phantom dream ended, he had witnessed the tragic reality with his own eyes.
The Tarot Master with blood gurgling from his throat, extending his fingers pierced by flower branches forward.
If, before seeing Wen Ya and the others, he still retained a trace of luck in his heart… when seeing that everything in reality matched the illusion, that final fantasy shattered along with it.
“……………………”
It was dead silent all around.
Like some switch was suddenly turned on, the node of breakdown arrived abruptly. Wen Ya bit her teeth tight, the muscles on her cheeks violently tense. The tears she thought had dried completely now uncontrollably poured out of her eye sockets, flowing continuously down her cheeks. Her throat involuntarily let out a sob.
“It’s okay, it’s okay.”
Approaching footsteps sounded by her ear, followed by a soft voice from above.
Wen Ya raised her eyes, meeting the gaze Wen Jianyan cast over.
Wen Jianyan lowered his eyes and said softly:
“Based on what I know of him, everything he did must have been for the final victory, right?”
Wen Ya forcefully swallowed the strong metallic taste of blood in her throat, and finally only let out a hoarse single syllable:
“…En.”
If it weren’t for Su Cheng, Dan Zhu couldn’t have been weakened, and her true weakness couldn’t have been exposed.
And Su Cheng also paid a bloody price for this.
“Then that’s right.”
Wen Jianyan’s voice was a bit hoarse, but he still gently tucked the bloodstained messy hair by Wen Ya’s ear behind her ear.
He was the one who had known Su Cheng the longest, but was also the one comforting everyone at this moment.
“Since that’s the case, don’t let his efforts go to waste.”
He helped Wen Ya wipe away the tears on her face, looking straight into her eyes, his voice carrying a power that couldn’t be ignored.
“Nightmare needs to pay the price for this.”
*
“Your arm was ‘devoured’, I cannot make it regenerate.” Wu Zhu checked Hugo’s arm, his gaze sweeping over the blood mist surging out from his wound, and added, “Same for your depletion.”
To the side, a weak laugh of mockery came:
“Tch.”
Chen Cheng barely raised his head, “That’s not just Hugo… almost all the injuries on our bodies are caused by the overdrawing of our talents.”
Even at this time, he still found it hard to control his mouth:
“Then overall, aren’t you pretty useless?”
“…”
Wu Zhu raised his head, his inorganic-like golden eyes flashing, staring at Chen Cheng:
“I can keep you from dying.”
Chen Cheng: “…Ah?”
“I can’t stop your bleeding, but if your blood drains completely, I can pour it back into your blood vessels.” As he spoke, the darkness beside him slowly dispersed. Fresh blood that had been collected at some point floated within it, bobbing up and down. “The same goes for other fatal wounds.”
Clearly speaking of very cruel content, but his tone was very calm, with almost no emotional fluctuation.
“As long as you don’t continue to overdraw your talents and souls, your bodies won’t die here.”
“Of course, if you feel the process is too painful, you can also choose to die.”
“Don’t worry, it won’t hurt, it’ll be very fast.”
Chen Cheng: “…”
He turned his neck with difficulty, looking at Chen Mo beside him with some disbelief: “Is he serious?”
Chen Mo: “…En.”
As the first person to be provided with this service, he was clearly used to it by now.
“It’s fine, you’ll get used to it.”
Meanwhile, Figaro was taking Wen Jianyan to the location of the portraits.
The dust settled, and only dead silence remained in the auction house.
Everything here was no different from last time. Dark red curtains were everywhere, like gloomy fresh blood. Bizarre golden patterns were carved on the ceiling; looking at them for too long would make one dizzy.
Not knowing if it was because it wasn’t the time for the auction to start, this time, whether it was the audience seats below or the VIP seats above, they were all empty.
This emptiness made one inexplicably feel a chill in their heart.
“I swear, those paintings really should be hanging right here,” Figaro stared at the wall in front of him, looking puzzled, “I don’t know where they went either.”
In front of him, the character portraits that connected the inner and outer auction houses had vanished at some point, leaving only an empty wall.
Wen Jianyan’s gaze landed on the wall.
He stroked the cold, delicate cover of the Dead Sea Scrolls. This book sewn from 408 pieces of human skin pressed in his palm, feeling as heavy as a thousand catties at this moment.
He wasn’t surprised by the disappearance of the portraits.
Together with the Dead Sea Scrolls, they were the anchor points why Nightmare descended here and stayed here.
If they were destroyed, Nightmare would be ruthlessly expelled from this world by the rules.
It couldn’t remain indifferent to their search, and would definitely try every means to keep them from being found.
“No.” He said slowly, “They are right nearby.”
—The rules of the train are predetermined.
Since it crashed into here, it means the remaining portraits must be here.
“We keep looking.”
Even if they had to dig three feet into the ground, even if they had to break open and tear down every brick and tile here, it didn’t matter—those portraits must be found no matter what.
“Although you say that,” Figaro gave a bitter smile, “but do you know how big this place is? Without any clues, how are we supposed to—”
Before he finished speaking, a voice suddenly came from behind.
“Over there.”
“???”
Hearing this, everyone was stunned and turned their heads one after another, looking towards the location the voice came from.
A few steps away, Wu Zhu had appeared behind them at some unknown time.
He stood still, tilting his head, his gaze directed towards the auction stage, not knowing what he was looking at.
“Let’s go.” Wen Jianyan was the first to react, striding towards where Wu Zhu’s gaze was directed. The moment he moved, the others also woke up as if from a dream and immediately followed closely behind.
What happened next could be summarized in one simple, crude word, and that was:
Demolish.
Everything on the high platform was ruthlessly destroyed and dismantled. Finally, as the last curtain was violently torn down, at that instant, it seemed as if the whole world had quieted down.
Cold, dim light fell from above, illuminating the wall behind the curtain.
A row of gloomy, bizarre, giant portraits appeared neatly before everyone’s eyes just like that.
Heavy colors, blurred faces.
Everyone’s faces were hidden deep in the darkness, their facial features unrecognizable. Pairs of bloodless, pale hands were folded and placed in front—they had once used these hands to rummage through the cold, bizarre dirt, collecting the scattered mirror fragments within, piecing together the crime of betrayal once again, and carrying it out… And because of this, their hands were eroded and faded, unable to return to their original appearance, and were permanently preserved by the portraits.
“…”
The betrayed deity stood diagonally behind, coldly looking at those portraits.
His side profile was divided by the light, his brow bone pressing down, casting gloomy, stern deep marks.
Something dark, restless, and bizarre rushed left and right beneath his seemingly indifferent facade, uncontrollably baring its ferocious fangs.
Suddenly, his face was turned around.
Astonished, he lowered his head, unexpectedly bumping deep into a pair of eyes. Deep within those eyes that were lighter than ordinary humans’, a firm and warm light flickered.
“What are you still looking at it for?”
The young man raised his eyes, his focused gaze falling on his face. That gaze was like looking over from the wasteland at the end of time, just like the first time he smiled and reached out into the tomb—
“I’m here to help you get revenge.”
In that instant, all the hard ice just melted away. Those sharp angers, bone-deep hostilities, long-lasting hatreds… seemed to all be soothed at this moment.
Wu Zhu leaned forward, pressing his forehead against Wen Jianyan’s forehead. He laughed softly and responded:
“Okay.”
