103: Chapter 103 Even if I pretend to be mute, I can still tear up your file.

The wind of the seventh night, carrying star fragments, poured into Data Alley. Chen Fan crouched under a leaking eave, the hem of his work uniform still stained with gold dust from when the Star-Whisper Corridor collapsed.

He looked down at the person on his back. Su Shuang's eyelashes trembled slightly, and the star fragments condensed into delicate glimmers under her eyes, looking just like that colored glass lamp in the Teahouse that always lit up on rainy nights.

"They... turn people into rules." Her sleep-talk drifted into his ears with the wind, the end of her sentence sounding like crumpled paper.

Chen Fan's Adam's apple bobbed, and a burning sensation suddenly flared in his palm—the blood-red words carved on the wall by the Broken Pen Official were seeping out from his skin. The dark red "You are also on the list" crawled along his blood vessels toward his heart like a living thing.

He remembered the wailing when the system first appeared, sounding like a baby yet also like a sharp screech of glass being scraped.

He was fifteen then. He had fallen from a construction site's scaffolding while carrying half a ton of cement. Blood blurred his eyes, but he heard a voice in his head say: "Awakening level reached, Purifier candidate locked." Later, he activated the critical hit system and thought it was a turning point in his fate, but it turned out his name had been circled in red ink long ago while he was still rolling in the mud.

"I'm not a Purifier," Chen Fan gritted his teeth, his knuckles turning white from clenching. "I'm here to overturn the case." He tore off a fragment of the battle robe from his shoulder, the coarse cloth rubbing against the calluses on his knuckles, and pressed the Flame-Marrow Tinder into his vein—disguised as a Judge suffering from the backlash of a Memory Stripping Technique. This was what Silent Eye had written on the slip of paper she had stuffed into his hand three days ago.

The spark burned a line of fire through his blood vessels. He staggered to his feet. Su Shuang's weight made his shoulder blades ache, but the slight warmth in his arms felt more real than any system notification.

The Gray City Archive Tower cast a massive shadow over the sea; among the seven towers, only it was shrouded in gray mist, looking like an upside-down coffin.

When Chen Fan reached the checkpoint, the soles of his boots crushed a fragment of a book of fate. The name "Auntie Zhou" on it still held a warm yellow glow, but as the Monitor's Soul Seal Scanner swept over it, it turned to ash with a "sizzle."

"Identity unrecognized." The device hummed, its metallic voice scraping painfully against the eardrums.

Chen Fan looked up and saw a man standing on the high platform wearing a Bronze Brain-Box—Ink Judge, the Archive Manager and an Extreme Order Maintainer.

His voice was like words carved on a stone tablet: "Report your class."

Chen Fan lowered his eyes, his Adam's apple bobbing as he let out a raspy, airy sound: "Ju... Judge, seventh grade. Com... command decree incomplete." This was a line he had practiced seventeen times in front of a broken mirror in Data Alley, intentionally making the end of his voice tremble like a candle flame in the wind.

Ink Judge wound his fingers around a silver chain at his waist and pulled out a Silver Silk to wrap around the scroll—a Suspicion Record. Silent Eye had said this was the most dangerous mark.

"Soul brand comparison." The Monitor's fingertip pressed the button on the device, and Chen Fan's heart suddenly beat so fast it felt like it would burst out of his throat.

Just as the red light was about to sweep across his forehead, the Monitor on the left frowned: "With eyes this unfocused, it really does look like Amnesia Backlash." Before his voice could fade, the critical hit system in his palm vibrated slightly, like a muted buzzer—[Cognitive Misjudgment Triggered — Presence Stripping (3 seconds)].

Chen Fan's figure faded for an instant. He used this gap to slap the Forged Token Little Candle had given him into the device slot.

The data stream flashed with a "shua." When the word "Access" popped up on the screen, the sweat on the back of his neck had already soaked his collar.

The sandalwood incense in the Proofreading Department was a bit bitter. Silent Eye sat blindly at the desk, her fingertips brushing over a page of an archive.

Chen Fan was shoved stumbling forward. She suddenly reached out and grabbed his wrist, her finger pressing against his pulse: "You say you have amnesia... but when I say 'Xiao Ma,' your heart beats louder than a drum."

Chen Fan's heart tightened—Xiao Ma was a laborer at the construction site who always helped him hide food, but his name had long been erased by the system.

Before he could react, Silent Eye's fingertip tapped three times quickly on the back of his hand, and a page was pushed to his feet.

From the corner of his eye, he saw the annotation on the edge: "True Names Do Not Burn." It was a transcript of the list that the Ash-Tongue Monk recited at night.

"If you want to see the real files, pass the Three Trials," her voice was as light as turning paper. "First, verify the soul brand; second, read the remnant scrolls; third, touch the Iron Page.

One wrong step, and your divine sense will shatter into dust." As Chen Fan nodded, she suddenly tapped her temple with her knuckle: "Don't believe the memories they give you—the real you is hidden in the places that weren't written down."

The blood trough of the First Trial smelled of iron. Chen Fan gritted his teeth and pressed his hand into it.

The image emerging from the device made his pupils shrink: his fifteen-year-old self carrying a cement bag, forehead bleeding, as the system notification exploded in his ears: "Purifier candidate locked."

"Hidden memory," the Inspector sneered, his fingertip about to press the clear button.

Chen Fan's nails almost dug into his palms, and the critical hit system vibrated again—[Cognitive Misjudgment — Presence Stripping].

Using the three seconds of invisibility, he stuffed the fragment of his "Mother's Death Record" left by the Broken Pen Official into the gap of the device.

The data stream suddenly became a tangled mess. Silent Eye's voice rang out at the right time: "Passive Retrospection. Article seven of the regulations allows for the retention of remnant memories."

The Inspector's hand hung in mid-air. Chen Fan felt the sweat on his back trickling down his spine.

The Second Trial was in the Hall of Burning Sounds. Chen Fan held a scroll that had been burned charred black, the words on it looking like rice eaten by insects.

He paused when he read "Lin Qi · Undead"—this name shouldn't exist. Silent Eye had said there were no such strange titles as "Undead" in the original player register.

Silent Eye suddenly coughed, her fingertip brushing the corner of her lips to make a "tear" mouth shape.

Chen Fan suddenly realized. He raised his voice and roared: "This list is fake!

True names cannot be burned!" Before his voice could fade, a hundred sheets of gray paper in the hall flew up with a "shua." The erased true names were like ink washed by rain, blooming into a sea of light in the air.

"Seize him!" Ink Judge's Bronze Brain-Box hit the railing with a dull thud.

Chen Fan's critical hit system vibrated three times in a row: [Cognitive Misjudgment ×3 — Continuous Stripping Activated].

Using the gaps from the three invisibility bursts, he scrambled into the ventilation shaft. Behind him came Little Candle's cry: "Take me with you!

My mother's name... is still in there!"

Chen Fan gritted his teeth and turned around. He saw Little Candle clinging to the vent, clutching half a page of a blood-stained record.

He reached out and grabbed her wrist, the scorching Flame-Marrow burning hot in his veins.

The ventilation shaft grew narrower and narrower. The smell of mold mixed with rust filled his nose until—

There was a dull "thud."

Chen Fan stumbled and fell into the darkness. Little Candle's hand slipped from his palm.

He felt the damp wall and struck a match. The flickering light revealed a wall covered in blood-red words, each one looking as if it had been gouged into the brick by fingernails:

"A Purifier's name must be carved on the first level of Hell."

"They say forgetting is mercy, but I want to remember you."

"The next one is Chen Fan."