151: Chapter 151 A blind man lighting a lamp illuminates his life, not his path.

The azure flames of the Backfire Pool still surged, and the roaring in Chen Fan's ears was like crumpled fabric, rustling with a subtle tremor.

He swallowed, his left hand still guarding Su Shuang's nape, while his right hand slowly rose toward the line of bloody characters on the rock wall—the vibration he had just "heard" was not the friction of carving, but more like the lingering echo of residual energy, as if someone had branded a dying scream into the stone with soul fire.

The moment his fingertips touched the blood characters, a fine, itchy sensation exploded between his vertebrae.

The tremor from the critical hit system was hotter than usual, like a scarlet snake drilling into his brain. The prompt sound of "Environmental Perception Critical Hit × 200%" flooded his throat mixed with the taste of rust.

Chen Fan's pupils contracted—he could "taste" it. What was soaked into those blood characters was not ordinary blood, but the despair burned by soul fire, the collapse of the carver chanting "7" over and over, and the countdown of heartbeats as fingernails dug into the stone crevices: Three, two, one...

"Seventh Collection Station... Soul Fire Re-refinement... She's almost gone." Black Crow's vibrating sound squeezed in from the earth vein fissure, like an ice shard poking into his ear canal.

Chen Fan's fingers curled into a fist on the blood characters, his knuckles creaking against the stone surface—Su Shuang's soul fire, which he had just shaken with the hammer of the thunder god, was as faint as a lamp wick dampened by rain; holding on for another moment and it would be extinguished.

"The Backfire Pool can replenish the soul." Mysterious Lady's whisper came from behind him.

Chen Fan turned his head. Though he couldn't see, he could "smell" the incense scent on her, now so faint it was almost dissipated, like burnt incense ash.

She knelt by the pool, her withered fingers caressing an extinguished star-light lamp inscribed with the words "Little Ying." "But the price is igniting the caster's life lamp... My daughter's Little Ying was burned out this way."

Chen Fan's breath hitched.

He remembered Mysterious Lady saying she was once a Red Robe Priestess overseeing the incense offerings of three cities. Now, having severed her own incense line, she looked as if her skeleton had been pulled out.

But the tremor in her voice now was more painful than Old Zhou's after three months of unpaid wages on a construction site.

"You two... are also taking this path?" Mysterious Lady suddenly looked up. Chen Fan could "see" a faint azure reflection in her eyes—the fire of the Backfire Pool burning in her eyes. "Nine out of ten people who enter become fuel."

Chen Fan did not answer.

He bent down and lifted Su Shuang up slightly. Her face pressed against his neck, cold as ice.

The hammer of the thunder god was stuck by his feet. The lightning patterns on the handle faintly glowed with his movement—he had traded the Bronze Sword dropped by the Kobolds in the Newbie Village for it. At that time, the critical hit system had multiplied his attributes by eight. Now, the handle resting on the ground was transmitting his vibrations into Su Shuang's body.

He could "hear" the sound of her blood flowing, as thin as a spider silk, ready to break at any moment.

"As long as I can save her, I can be burned to ashes too," his voice was hoarse, like sandpaper scraping against an iron plate.

Mysterious Lady suddenly stood up, her plain robes dragging across the ground with a rustling sound.

Chen Fan "heard" the crisp sound of fabric tearing, followed by the patter of blood drops falling—she tore off a corner of her robe and used the blood from her fingertip to draw a talisman on the ground. "The 'Soul Guiding Array' of the God Descending Sect was originally stolen from the Shadow Pavilion," her voice suddenly turned cold, like an ice pick stabbing into a ground fissure. "They fed the system with living people's soul fire in exchange for ten years of precarious peace for the Yun Clan."

The moment the blood talisman slapped into the Backfire Pool, the azure flames shot up three feet high.

Chen Fan "saw" layers of skeletons surfacing in the churning flames at the bottom of the pool: players wearing leather armor, natives wrapped in animal skins, and the skeleton of a Little Girl, with a faded red string tied around her wrist bone—identical to the red string on the "Little Ying" lamp in Mysterious Lady's hand.

"The entrance is in the center of the pool," Mysterious Lady's voice mixed with the crackling of the flames. "If you delay, your soul fire will also be left here."

Chen Fan took a deep breath.

He carried Su Shuang on his back and stepped into the pool with his left foot first.

The expected burning pain did not come; instead, there was a strange suction force drilling from the soles of his feet toward his crown. He remembered being blinded by the toxic fog in the Bronze Dungeon last time, his memories feeling like they were being vigorously erased by an eraser. This time was worse; just as he recalled the locust tree in front of his old home, the tree's shadow faded as if about to dissolve in the wind.

"Shuanger, hold on tight to me," he said hoarsely, his right hand gripping Su Shuang's waist tightly.

With every step he took, the skeletons at the bottom of the pool retreated to both sides, as if making way for him.

When the tip of his foot touched the raised rock in the center of the pool, the critical hit system trembled again—"Sensory Resonance Deepening—Vision Loss, Tactile Critical Hit Amplification +18%."

The back of Chen Fan's neck instantly tensed like a bowstring.

He could "hear" a heartbeat from the bottom of the pool, one beat, two beats, mechanically precise, identical in frequency to what he heard just before the lightning vein snapped in the mine tunnel.

He suddenly recalled the words spoken by the old miner, whose existence had been erased by the system in the Gold Dungeon, just before dying: "They are digging the earth veins... digging at our life root..."

"This pool is the system's 'cardiac pacemaker'," he laughed through gritted teeth, tasting blood in his mouth. "Using our soul fire as batteries."

Before the words faded, the rock in the center of the pool suddenly cracked open.

The grinding sound of the stone door opening was like a rusty knife scraping against glass. Purple-black mist, wrapped in countless whispers, poured out: "Number 714, soul fire registration... Number 715, soul fire registration..." Chen Fan could "see" specks of faint light floating in the mist—fragments of drained soul fire, closely resembling the fireflies drifting above the sheds when laborers finished work for the day.

"Don't go in!" Mysterious Lady's shriek was torn to shreds by the mist. "That is the Administration Bureau's 'Refining Chamber'! Once you enter, you can't get out!"

Chen Fan pressed Su Shuang closer to his chest.

Her soul fire was even weaker now, so weak he could barely "hear" it, but it was still there, a single thread tethering his life.

He raised the hammer of the thunder god, the tip pointing toward the darkness within the mist, and sneered, "I'm not here to register; I'm here to smash the registration book."

One step, two steps.

The purple-black mist washed over his ankles, then his waist, then his shoulders.

The last vibration came from underground—it was Black Crow's signal: three short, one long—their agreed signal for "chain break," meaning the passage through the earth vein fissure was about to collapse.

Chen Fan did not look back. He could "see" the stone door slowly closing behind him, could "hear" Mysterious Lady's choked cry isolated behind the door, and could "smell" the increasingly dense scent of burnt soul fire within the mist.

Then, darkness enveloped his head.

There was no light, no shadow, only countless floating life lamps spreading out before his eyes, like the Milky Way descending from the heavens.

Each lamp was inscribed with a number: 701, 702, 713... When Chen Fan counted to 714, Su Shuang in his arms moved; her fingers gently hooked his lapel.

He looked down. Though he couldn't see, he could "see" the light of her soul fire, flickering like a nearly extinguished star in the darkness.

(In the distance came the crisp sound of iron chains snapping. The mass of soul lamps suddenly trembled violently. A lamp inscribed with "715" cracked with a 'pop,' and lamp oil-like luminous liquid splashed onto Chen Fan's hand, stinging him—that was his number.)