27: Chapter 27 The NPC Resurrection Plan, Mike's Redemption

The aftermath of the explosion still vibrated against the walls of the secret room. Shattered server fragments sizzled with electrical sparks, and the air was thick with the smell of burnt plastic and a faint scent of blood. Lin Fan lay prone on the cold floor, his consciousness like crushed glass shards, with garbled data streams crashing through his mind. He could feel sensation slowly returning to his body; the stinging in his fingertips reminded him that this crazy gamble had not yet reached its end.

"Lin Fan! Lin Fan, are you still fucking alive?"

Franklin's roar penetrated the thick alloy door of the secret room, accompanied by a heavy thud. Soon, the deformed door was kicked open, and the figures of Franklin and Trevor appeared at the doorway. Trevor's arm was wrapped in blood-stained bandages, his face covered in dust and gunpowder smoke, his eyes full of anxiety. Franklin's hair was singed and curled, and he still gripped a mangled submachine gun; only when he saw the dying Lin Fan on the floor did his tense shoulders suddenly slump.

"Fuck, you've got some luck, kid," Franklin cursed, his voice trembling uncontrollably. He rushed over and helped Lin Fan up from the floor. "Where's that bastard Victor? Is he dealt with?"

Lin Fan leaned against Franklin, a metallic taste of blood rising in his throat. He coughed a few times, his gaze sweeping across the wrecked room. The server screens were completely black, save for a backup terminal in the corner flickering with a faint blue light. He shook his head, his voice so raspy it was barely audible: "The privileges... I got them, but he escaped. He uploaded his consciousness to the backup system, and I don't know where he's hiding."

Trevor walked over, kicked a piece of server wreckage, and spat. "We let that kid off too easy. But now the entire Dungeon's defense system is under our control. Even if he's a slippery eel, he won't be able to stir up any major trouble."

Lin Fan's gaze fell on the flickering blue backup terminal, and his heart skipped a beat. He broke free from Franklin's support, staggered over, and touched the terminal screen with trembling fingers. Dense lines of code instantly jumped onto the screen, with one line of red characters particularly striking—[Consciousness Carrier Backup: Michael Townley, Status: Pending Activation]

"Michael..." Lin Fan's breath suddenly hitched, as if an invisible hand had gripped his throat. He remembered the look in Michael's eyes when he fell, and that blood-flecked sentence, "Don't let me die for nothing." A surge of hot emotion rushed to his eyes.

Franklin and Trevor also noticed the content on the terminal, and the expressions on both their faces instantly became complicated. Trevor frowned and said in a low voice, "This is... a Resurrection Program? That bastard Victor actually left such a card up his sleeve?"

"Administrator Privileges allow for the retrieval of consciousness backups for all NPCs," Lin Fan's voice trembled slightly as his fingers slid rapidly across the screen. "As long as we start the program, we can... we can bring Michael back to life in a digital form."

Franklin's eyes lit up momentarily, then dimmed again. "Resurrected? In a digital form? Is that still Michael?"

The question was like a bucket of cold water poured over Lin Fan's heart. He looked at Michael's consciousness backup data on the screen, his finger pausing over the start button. Yes, a resurrection in digital form was nothing more than a segment of copied code, a ghost with Michael's memories and appearance. It wouldn't be the real Michael—not the one who would hesitate, struggle, and risk everything for his family.

But even so, he couldn't help but want to try.

"Whether it is or not, I have to try," Lin Fan grit his teeth, his eyes showing an almost obsessive determination. "Michael died for us. I can't just let him disappear like this."

Franklin wanted to say something more, but Trevor held him back. Trevor shook his head and whispered, "Let him do it. The kid has a fire in him right now; you can't stop him."

Lin Fan took a deep breath and pressed the start button.

The terminal emitted a low hum, and the code on the screen began to scroll frantically. The blue light grew brighter and brighter, nearly piercing to the eyes. The temperature in the secret room rose sharply, and data streams, like tangible threads, wove together in the air, gradually coalescing into a blurry figure.

The silhouette's outline became clearer and clearer—the familiar build, the familiar clothes, even the white hair at his temples was identical.

"Michael..." Lin Fan's voice choked. He took a step forward and reached out, wanting to touch that familiar figure.

The figure slowly raised his head, revealing a face exactly like Michael's. But his eyes were terrifyingly empty, like a pool of stagnant water without the slightest ripple. He looked at Lin Fan, his lips moving as he spoke in a voice with the stiff texture of electronic synthesis: "Administrator privilege holder Lin Fan identified. What are your instructions?"

Lin Fan's outstretched hand froze in mid-air, as if blocked by an invisible barrier. He looked into those empty eyes, and his heart felt as if it were being squeezed hard, the pain making it difficult to breathe.

This wasn't Michael.

The real Michael would have struggle in his eyes, tenderness, and concern for his family. But the "Michael" before him was just a puppet controlled by code, a soulless husk.

"You're not him..." Lin Fan's voice was incredibly raspy, and the heat in his eyes finally spilled over. "You're not him!"

He stepped back abruptly, staggering into the terminal behind him with a dull thud. The code on the screen continued to scroll, and that "Michael" still looked at him expressionlessly, waiting for instructions.

Franklin and Trevor stood to the side, their expressions solemn and silent. They knew that Lin Fan's hope had been completely shattered at this moment.

Lin Fan stared intently at that empty figure, countless images flashing through his mind—Michael's profile in silence, Michael's resolve when firing a gun, Michael's blood-stained smile as he fell. Those images were like sharp knives, stabbing deep into his heart.

"Why..." Lin Fan's voice carried a hint of despair. "Why isn't it him?"

Just then, the empty figure suddenly moved. In his eyes, an extremely faint light seemed to flash, like a pebble thrown into stagnant water, creating a barely perceptible ripple. He looked at Lin Fan, his lips moving again. This time, his voice seemed to have lost some of the electronic stiffness, replaced by a trace of familiar raspiness: "Kid... don't be sad."

Lin Fan snapped his head up, looking at him in disbelief. "Michael?"

The figure shook his head, his mouth curling into a wry smile identical to the one in Lin Fan's memory. His eyes gradually became clear, no longer empty; they held struggle, tenderness, and everything Lin Fan was familiar with.

"I'm not complete," his voice was very soft, like a breeze that could dissipate at any moment. "Just a residual fragment of consciousness, trapped in the code."

Lin Fan's tears flowed even harder. He rushed over, wanting to hug the figure, only to find his hands passing right through. Cold data streams brushed past his fingertips, carrying a faint trace of warmth.

"Why?" Lin Fan choked out. "Why refuse resurrection? As long as the full program is started, you could..."

"The full program?" Michael smiled, a hint of relief in his expression. "And after resurrection? Become a puppet controlled by code? Repeating a pre-set plot? No, I don't want that."

He looked at Lin Fan, his eyes full of tenderness. "I've lived a whole life—struggling to survive in the first half, and redeeming myself for my family in the second half. I've killed many people and made many mistakes. I don't want to become a puppet without freedom again, living under someone else's control."

"Let me be a dead man with dignity."

These words were like a thunderclap exploding in Lin Fan's ears. He looked into Michael's eyes; there was no regret in them, only relief and contentment.

Franklin stood to the side, his fists clenched so tightly his nails nearly dug into his flesh. He looked at the figure that was gradually becoming transparent, and at Lin Fan's tear-streaked face. A surge of suppressed rage suddenly rushed to his heart.

He turned abruptly and slammed a fist into the terminal beside him.

"Fuck!" Franklin roared, kicking the terminal's keyboard with all his might. Keyboard fragments flew, and the screen instantly went black. "Who the hell is playing who in this damn game?!"

His roar echoed in the secret room, carrying endless anger and despair. Trevor watched him silently, his face devoid of expression, yet a similar flash of anger flickered in the depths of his eyes.

Indeed, who was playing who?

They thought they were players controlling their own fates, but they hadn't expected that they were merely pieces on someone else's chessboard. Victor was the player, they were the pieces, and even Michael's life and death were controlled by code.

"Why?!" Franklin was still roaring. Having smashed the keyboard, he began to kick the terminal's mainframe. "Why does our fate have to be controlled by someone else?!"

The secret room was a mess. Franklin's roars, Lin Fan's sobs, and Michael's gradually fading sighs wove together like a desperate elegy.

Michael's figure grew more transparent, as if about to melt into the air. He looked at Lin Fan, his eyes full of reluctance yet carrying a hint of relief: "Lin Fan, promise me, take care of my family."

Lin Fan nodded frantically, tears blurring his vision. "I will, I definitely will!"

"And..." Michael's voice grew even softer. "Don't let that bastard Victor get his way. You have to win. You must win."

Lin Fan choked up, unable to speak.

Michael smiled, taking one last look at Lin Fan, then at Franklin and Trevor, his eyes full of gratification.

"Goodbye, my friends."

As the words fell, his figure completely transformed into countless fine shimmering motes of light, dissipating into the air.

The blue light in the secret room was completely extinguished, leaving only a dead silence.

Lin Fan stood frozen in place, staring at the spot where Michael had vanished, tears falling silently.

Franklin's roars gradually subsided. He leaned against the wall, panting heavily, his face full of exhaustion and dejection. Trevor walked to his side and handed him a bottle of water, saying nothing.

Lin Fan slowly crouched down, burying his face in his knees, his shoulders trembling violently. His heart was filled with despair and powerlessness, as if all his strength had been drained away.

Just then, a pair of strong hands were gently placed on his shoulders.

Lin Fan looked up to see Franklin and Trevor standing before him. The anger was gone from Franklin's face, replaced only by determination; Trevor's eyes were also full of resolve.

"Kid, don't fucking cry like a girl," Franklin's voice was gruff, yet it carried a hint of warmth. "Michael didn't die for nothing."

Trevor nodded and said in a heavy voice, "We still have unfinished business. Victor is still hiding, and the crisis in the Underworld hasn't been resolved. We need to fulfill Michael's last wishes and win this goddamn game."

Lin Fan looked at them, at their determined eyes, and at the place where Michael had dissipated. A surge of hot emotion rushed to his heart.

Despair and powerlessness gradually receded, replaced by an almost frantic resolve.

He stood up abruptly and wiped the tears from his face. There was no longer any trace of confusion in his eyes, only a burning rage and a firm conviction.

He bowed deeply toward the place where Michael had vanished.

Then, he turned around and looked at Franklin and Trevor, his voice raspy but carrying an unquestionable firmness: "Let's go. Find Victor."

Franklin and Trevor nodded, their eyes full of approval.

At the moment Lin Fan turned, he felt as if a gentle breeze had brushed past his ear. It was like Michael's hand, gently patting his shoulder.

Lin Fan's footsteps paused for a moment, then he continued forward with determination.

He reached the doorway of the secret room, stopped suddenly, and looked back at the empty room.

Then, he threw his arms wide, as if to embrace something.

"Michael!"

His voice carried a hint of a sob, yet was full of power.

"I'm going to fucking win!"

The words were like an oath, echoing in the empty room, lingering for a long time.

Franklin and Trevor watched his back, their eyes full of emotion.

They knew that from this moment on, Lin Fan was no longer that impulsive youth.

On his shoulders, he carried Michael's last wishes and the hopes of everyone.

Meanwhile, in some corner of the Underworld, a hidden terminal suddenly flickered. Victor's face appeared on the screen, watching everything in the secret room, his eyes filled with sinister coldness.

"Win?" Victor sneered. "Then let's see who gets the last laugh."

The light on the screen gradually faded, and the entire Dungeon fell into silence once more.

A new storm was quietly brewing.

(End of Chapter)