Like an elegant dancer, he paced forward.
The black tailcoat on Yan was crisp and immaculate, his white gloves spotless, the pure white, featureless mask shielding all emotion.
He stood there, a cold statue carved from order and inevitability, silently extolling the fate he held in contempt above all else.
Before Jin.
Lin Mo knelt on the ground.
His combat suit was tattered into strips, and his exposed skin was covered with purple-black bruises and gaping wounds.
The deepest cut slanted from his left shoulder to his right ribs, the flesh curling outward.
Blood stained a large area beneath him.
With every violent cough or labored breath, fresh bloody foam gushed from his mouth and nose, dripping into the pool of his own making.
His face was pale as paper, his eyes filled with exhaustion, helplessness, and a hint of self-doubting frustration born from long, ineffective attacks.
Yet he still straightened his spine, trying to stand again.
Faint blue energy flickered unsteadily over his body, like a candle flame in the wind, but it never completely extinguished.
Jin looked down, silently watching Lin Mo’s final struggle.
Behind that mask, his gaze might have held scrutiny and assessment, but mostly it was calm confirmation before completing a task.
“It’s all going to end.”
His voice came through the mask, steady and flat, as if reading aloud an unalterable conclusion already written.
His right hand, still in its white glove, reached again into the inner pocket of his tailcoat and withdrew a…
Coin.
Its pattern was complex and aged.
The coin’s material seemed like copper but not quite; its surface was covered with a dull patina, and the edges even showed slight wear.
On one side was carved a human face with closed eyes, asleep.
On the other, a blurry pattern like an hourglass slowly rotating.
Yan didn’t look at it much.
He simply pinched the coin between his thumb and index finger, flicked his wrist, and tossed it out with a casual yet precise motion.
The coin traced a straight arc through the air, landing precisely—without deviation—on the ground before Lin Mo, on the blood-soaked patch.
Ding–
A faint, almost negligible crisp sound.
The coin lay quietly in the dark red bloodstain.
Its complex, ancient patterns gleamed under the surrounding faint energy light, appearing exceptionally exquisite and exceptionally ominous.
It exuded a weak but clear aura of order and finality, one that resonated with Jin—like a miniature judgment seat descending before Lin Mo.
Jin looked at the coin, then at Lin Mo, who was breathing heavily and staring fixedly at it.
Slowly, he raised his own left hand.
First, with deliberate care, he used his right hand to peel off the left glove—equally immaculate white—little by little.
He folded the glove neatly and put it into his pocket.
Then, a hand so pale it was nearly transparent was exposed under the dim, void-like light.
The fingers were long, the knuckles distinct.
Beneath the skin, the blue-purple veins were so clear they were unsettling, as if this was not a living hand but a well-maintained craftwork devoid of life’s warmth.
On this hand, there was no trace of emotional fluctuation belonging to Jin.
Only pure, cold functionality.
He slowly raised this pale hand, fingers slightly spread, palm downward, gently bringing it near Lin Mo’s bowed head.
His movement was soft—like a priest giving last rites to a believer, or an artist making final touches to a nearly finished sculpture.
The palm did not actually touch Lin Mo, but an invisible force, one that seemed capable of stripping away possibilities, freezing the future, and guiding the soul to eternal sleep, spread from that pale palm like a gentle spiderweb, enveloping Lin Mo’s consciousness.
“Rest easy, Mr. Lin Mo.”
Yan’s voice, at this moment, carried the faintest hint of nearly compassionate softness.
But behind this compassion lay a verdict more absolute, more unquestionable.
“Your struggles, your unyielding spirit, your fallacies… will all be corrected and put to rest in this moment.”
“Your death, your sacrifice, will eventually bloom into the most brilliant flower of fate.”
“I offer you…”
The pale palm was only an inch from the top of Lin Mo’s head.
“My highest respect.”
Respect offered to an error soon to be logically eliminated.
The palm began to descend slowly.
…
…
…
Corridor of the Abyss, Chu You and Ayane Hanyu.
The Abyss Mirror standing on the charred ground clearly reflected that despairing scene from the void battlefield—the coin landing, the pale hand rising and hovering over Lin Mo’s dying head.
Chu You lay on the ground.
The searing pain in her left shoulder and the cold numbness throughout her body seemed to disappear in that moment.
Her eyes were wide open, staring fixedly at the mirror.
For the first time, those always cool and calm eyes clearly revealed undeniable fear, heart-wrenching agony, and a suffocating despair.
Her heart seemed gripped by an invisible, icy hand—tightening violently, clenching again!
The sharp pain instantly stole her breath.
Every weak breath came with uncontrollable tremors, her lungs wheezing like a broken bellows.
“Lin… Mo…”
A broken, almost inaudible syllable escaped her bloodstained lips.
The sound was very soft, but it seemed to use the last of her strength and emotion.
She watched him fall in a pool of blood, watched him struggle in vain, watched that coin of finality drop, watched that pale hand descend like the shadow of death…
Powerless.
This feeling was colder than the Abyss’s erosion, more painful than Ayane Hanyu’s torture.
Ayane Hanyu stood beside Chu You, savoring with great interest the brilliant expression changes on Chu You’s face.
From cold to despair, from despair to pain, from pain to… something deeper.
Her smile was as radiant as a blooming poisonous flower.
“What a wonderful fluctuation of emotion…”
Ayane Hanyu took a deep breath, almost intoxicated, as if she could taste the despair and pain in the air.
“Emotions suppressed to the limit, love pushed to the brink, magnified and rendered infinitely under the shadow of death… Miss Chu, your soul at this moment is emitting a radiance that intoxicates me.”
She crouched down, extended a slender finger, nearly touching Chu You’s ice-cold cheek.
“If not for Master Jin’s promise of benefits I can’t refuse…”
Ayane Hanyu’s tone carried a hint of genuine regret, “I truly would like to devour you completely right here, right now.”
“Not for power, but to… carefully, slowly savor everything erupting within you at this moment—this ultimate pain, this hopeless love, this unwilling struggle… What an intoxicating taste they would be, mixed together!”
Chu You’s eyeballs rolled extremely slowly.
Her gaze shifted from the mirror to land on Ayane Hanyu’s smiling, flower-like face so close by.
The moment her eyes met Ayane Hanyu’s, the pupils that had been somewhat unfocused from despair and pain suddenly became clear and cold, as if quenched in ice water—even carrying a frightening calm.
This sudden change made the smile on Ayane Hanyu’s face freeze almost imperceptibly for a moment.
Chu You’s lips moved faintly.
Her voice was hoarse but unusually clear, every word falling like hailstones on scorched earth: “You think…”
She coughed up a mouthful of blood with black miasma.
The blood trickled down the corner of her mouth, dripping onto the charred ground. “…you’ve already won, haven’t you?”
The smile on Ayane Hanyu’s face finally faded a few degrees.
She tilted her head, as if seeing this dying prey clearly for the first time.
She withdrew her hand that was almost touching Chu You, stood up, and tucked both hands into the wide sleeves of her kimono.
She looked at Chu You leisurely, waiting for her to continue.
Chu You ignored the blood still flowing from the corners of her mouth.
She also did not look at the mirror, where the final scene was about to conclude.
She only fixed her eyes, now restored to cold sharpness, directly on Ayane Hanyu.
“Looking down on life from on high, arrogant and aloof…”
Chu You’s voice was slow but carried a strange power, as if not from her throat, but surging from deep within her broken body, from the core of her soul not yet entirely eroded.
“Thinking you can dominate everything, play with people’s hearts, manipulate wills—and even fate itself, you can casually twist and rewrite it, can’t you?”
Ayane Hanyu did not answer.
She only raised an eyebrow slightly.
The dark vortex in her eyes slowed its rotation, as if she were genuinely somewhat interested in Chu You’s words.
Chu You suddenly smiled.
It was an extremely slight, almost imperceptible curve at the corner of her bloodstained, pale lips.
Paired with her cold, sharp eyes, this smile carried no warmth.
Instead, it revealed a nearly piercing mockery.
She raised her right hand, which was trembling violently and barely under control.
Using the relatively clean inside of her sleeve, she forcefully, slowly wiped the blood from the corners of her mouth.
The movement was difficult but carried an unmistakable resolve.
“His name is Jin, right?”
Chu You’s gaze seemed to pierce through Ayane Hanyu once more, to turn toward the mirror, toward the elegant figure executing the final judgment on Lin Mo.
“Dealing with a life-and-death struggle as if strolling in a park, arrogantly despising everyone but himself…”
Chu You’s voice grew steadier and clearer, as if stating a simple fact.
“He fancies himself standing at the highest point of fate’s balance, holding the scepter of logical correction, able to easily erase others’ existence and dominate their futures, like wiping away dust…”
She paused, the mockery in her eyes deepening.
“This whole act of manipulating fate… even I, a mere onlooker, can see through it.”
Her gaze snapped back, locking onto Ayane Hanyu again.
In those cool eyes, a nearly blazing light suddenly burst forth!
“I don’t believe…”
“That guy Lin Mo… wouldn’t see through it!”
The moment those words fell, a surge of strength seemed to come from nowhere—like a final flash of vitality before death, or something deeper being completely ignited!
Chu You let out a low roar.
Her hands slammed onto the charred, hard ground.
Her fingernails split and bled from the force.
Gritting her teeth, she dragged her nearly broken body, stumbling and swaying, bit by bit… she stood up from the ground!
Her left shoulder was still a bloody mess, her left arm hanging limp.
Her whole body was covered in wounds, blood constantly seeping out, staining her tattered combat suit.
Her body trembled violently from the intense pain and weakness, as if she might collapse again at any moment.
But she stood up nonetheless.
Her back was straight as a spear that would never bend.
Standing there, she stared straight at Ayane Hanyu’s face, which was slightly stiff from shock.
Word by word, like cold iron forged in fire, she hurled at her: “Stop…”
“Acting so self-righteous–!!!”
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