165: Chapter 165 A single move can destroy a god; it's not about the game itself, but about reason.

Chen Fan's fingernails were almost digging into his palm.

He could feel the last wisp of spiritual power in his Sea of Consciousness being drawn out like thread, like a candle wick being swept away by the wind. But when his gaze swept over the cluster of faint blue remnant soul at the edge of the chessboard, the metallic sweetness in his throat suddenly turned into a lingering aftertaste—it was the 'Jade Pool Drifting Snow' Su Shuang had brewed, honey wrapped in bitter clarity.

"In this final game, I will purify your emotional virus with absolute rationality," Yi Xuan's voice pierced the void like an ice cone. Twelve golden Origin Stones circled his head, tracing stellar orbits. Every beam of light was precise to a chilling degree.

Chen Fan didn't rush to place a stone. He raised his blood-stained hand and suspended the hammer of the thunder god over his heart.

The thunder patterns on the hammerhead resonated with the star sigil on his chest, causing sharp pain in his shoulder blades. Yet, he laughed, a laugh so wide that the beads of blood near his eyes shook: "This strike is not to win the game."

The moment the black stone, 'Black · Empty Memory,' was placed, the entire board emitted a light sound like shattering porcelain.

It was in the corner of the board, neither connecting forces nor enclosing territory, looking like a mere dab of ink carelessly applied.

Disdain flashed in Yi Xuan's pupil-less eyes: "Emotional interference factor."' He flicked his finger, and three white stones shot out like sharp arrows, weaving the 'Nine Palaces Spirit Locking Array' in the center of the board. Silver light, wrapped in the power of rules, sought to trap the black stone into a dead end.

Chen Fan retreated the first step.

He could see the silver lines of the Spirit Locking Array eroding the black stone's energy, but his fingertip gently stroked the edge of the board—where the temperature of Su Shuang's remnant soul lingered, like a piece of snow reluctant to melt.

As he retreated the second step, he heard gasps from players outside the Void Realm.

The system announcement froze into a snow screen. The word 'Rule' jumped in everyone's Sea of Consciousness like a cat whose tail had been stepped on.

By the seventh step, cold sweat was soaking Chen Fan's back.

The weight of the hammer of the thunder god made his wrist tremble, but he stared at the golden stones around Yi Xuan's head and suddenly caught a trace of anomaly—one of the stones, which should have flown out at intervals of 0.3 seconds, was delayed by 0.01 seconds.

"Black · Oath Keeper."

The instant the eighth black stone landed, the system prompt exploded in Chen Fan's Sea of Consciousness.

A pale gold critical hit mist, wrapped in three streams of data, burst before his eyes: [Cognitive Critical Hit × 3 — — Opponent Emotional Fluctuation + 0.2%]!

His throat bobbed. He finally confirmed his guess—Yi Xuan wasn't emotionless; he had sealed his emotions in amber of rationality for so long that he had forgotten their taste.

"Missing Mother." Chen Fan placed his stone. The black stone landed in the bottom-left corner of the board, the spot where he had squatted at twelve years old, watching the foreman call home, the scent of boiling noodles drifting on the wind.

Yi Xuan's golden stones began to fall into disarray.

The neat stellar orbits showed fractures, and two stones collided, spitting out fine sparks of light.

His fingertip pressed onto the chessboard, and the white jade surface cracked into spiderweb-like lines: "Purge sequence initiating..."

"Missing Friend." The second emotional stone landed. It was from when Chen Fan was seventeen, sharing the last half-bottle of soda with A'Qiang, who was moving bricks with him, at the bridgehead, the sunlight stretching their shadows long.

The Dark Candle Envoy suddenly straightened up.

This usually silent messenger's Adam's apple moved: "He is not playing a wrong move; he is playing his heart."' His black stone slipped from his palm, burning a wisp of green smoke in the void.

"Protecting the Weak." The third black stone landed. It was from three days ago in the Newbie Village, when Chen Fan gave the system-rewarded bread to the Little Girl who was crying for her mother. The girl's snot-covered hand gripped his hand so tightly it hurt his wrist.

Yi Xuan suddenly stood up.

His white robe billowed wildly in the turbulence of the golden stones. Turbid light surged in his pupil-less eyes—it was the look Chen Fan had seen at the construction site, the gaze of Old Man Zhou squatting by a pile of bricks, smoking a dry pipe, after his wages had been withheld for three months.

"Silence! Rationality is Survival!" Yi Xuan roared, but his hand trembled as he placed the stone.

The white stone that should have landed precisely on the 'Dragon-Cutting Position' shifted half an inch, just enough to grant the black stone a sliver of life.

Chen Fan's pupils contracted sharply.

The critical hit system shook violently in his Sea of Consciousness, golden prompts washing over him like a tide: [Cognitive Critical Hit · Active Induction Successful!] He took a deep breath, pouring the last half-wisp of spiritual power into his fingertip. The black stone, 'Black · Shared Burn,' descended onto the board with sparks—it was the location of Su Shuang's Teahouse, where the tea mist she brewed had covered the board during their first collaboration, making the word 'Survival' feel soft and blurred.

The entire game suddenly came alive.

The silver lines of the white stones began to strangle each other; the twelve Spirit Locking Arrays became twelve manacles.

The White General was trapped in the center of the 'Reason and Emotion Dead End.' Moving back would crush the soul of the Little Girl he saved years ago; moving forward would tear apart his millennial contract with the Dark Candle Envoy.

Yi Xuan knelt down.

The golden stones around his head shattered one after another, like stars dispersed by the wind.

One stone grazed Chen Fan's face, and he tasted rust—it was blood; Yi Xuan's divine consciousness was bleeding.

"I... also wanted to save someone a hundred years ago..." Yi Xuan's voice was as light as a sigh, "But the system said emotions are the cancer of civilization..."

Chen Fan stood up, leaning on the hammer of the thunder god.

His blood dripped onto the chessboard, blooming into a red plum blossom: "But without emotion, winning is still death."

The last black stone, 'Black · Indestructible,' was placed.

The chessboard exploded with a roar.

Su Shuang's remnant soul, wrapped in faint blue light, finally broke free from all chains.

She slowly opened her eyes, the fox tattoo near her eye faintly visible.

The moment her fingertip lightly touched Chen Fan's hand, he heard a heartbeat—not his own, but hers, one beat, two beats, like a stream thawing in early spring.

The Void Realm began to collapse.

Ten thousand players opened their eyes simultaneously. The system announcement before them went silent for three seconds, then collectively exploded into blinding white light.

Before turning into stardust, Yi Xuan took one last look at the black stones on the board.

He smiled, a smile like the youth from a hundred years ago holding a frozen girl in the snow: "So... emotion is the highest logic."

The Dark Candle Envoy threw the black stone in his hand into the Void Fire.

The moment the flames rose, he whispered, "The fire... should burn now."

Chen Fan carried Su Shuang onto his back.

The hammer of the thunder god trembled lightly in his palm. A new system prompt appeared near his heart, burning so hot it made his eyes sting: [Cognitive Critical Hit · Can Be Actively Induced] [Critical Hit Rate Permanently Increased to 35%] [You... are becoming the rule itself].

In the distance, at the core of the Shadow Pavilion.

The Third Seat of the Red Robes crushed the bronze command flag in his hand, the fragments digging into his palm, yet he seemed oblivious.

He stared at the swirling stardust in the direction of the Void Realm, his roar making the glazed tiles tremble: "Activate 'Doomsday Protocol'—All forces advance!"

The stardust in the Void Realm had not yet dissipated.

Chen Fan felt the space beneath his feet crack open with a silver fissure. The wind of reality, carrying the familiar dust from the construction site, rushed in.

He looked down at the person on his back. Su Shuang was tilting her head, looking at him, the tear mole at the corner of her eye glittering in the stardust: "This time... let me brew tea for you?"

Chen Fan laughed, his blood-smeared face splitting to reveal white teeth.

The moment he stepped out, a faint roar came from outside the fissure—it was the battle flags of the Shadow Pavilion snapping loudly in the wind.