Chapter 117: Prelude to the Final Chapter

"Click." The sound of a door opening rang out abruptly, shattering the deathly silence of the corridor.

"Hiccup... are you done yet?" Ou Shinan, who had been leaning against the door frame, bumped into Luo Hanyai and collapsed at the entrance of Room 13, letting out a drunken hiccup.

A distinct, pungent stench of alcohol wafted over, forcing Luo Hanyai to wave his hand in front of his nose to push away the unpleasant, almost unbearable odor.

"Just how much did you drink? This smell is too much!" Luo Hanyai asked, frowning.

"Not that much," Ou Shinan slurred, his tongue seemingly tied. "Maybe seven or eight bottles?"

Luo Hanyai pressed his temples, feeling a slight headache, and looked helplessly at the nearly comatose Ou Shinan. "The time has come. We need to go. Are you coming or not?"

Ou Shinan rested his head against the wall, seemingly oblivious to Luo Hanyai’s words, and even began to snore.

"Let’s go. It’s time. It seems he isn’t going," Shi Can said, tugging at Luo Hanyai, signaling him to leave the drunkard behind.

"If he doesn't even go, then he must be an outsider," Luo Hanyai said, casting a long look at Ou Shinan, who lay on the floor snoring like thunder. He felt a deep sense of emotion, thinking, "If only I could be as carefree as him."

"Cough, cough, cough..." A familiar, wheezing cough drifted from a nearby door.

"The time has come, but I no longer have the strength to walk there." Xiaofeng’s voice was even weaker than before, barely audible, ethereal like the whisper of a ghost—mournful, moving, and heartbreaking, enough to bring tears to anyone who heard his sigh.

Shi Can trembled inexplicably upon hearing Xiaofeng’s voice, as if afraid of him.

Luo Hanyai sighed, deciding to check on Xiaofeng before heading out.

Ou Shinan remained motionless on the floor, his thunderous snoring continuing, as if he had drunk himself into a deathly slumber.

"Brother, will you take me there?" Xiaofeng panted, struggling to finish the sentence.

Shi Can tugged at Luo Hanyai’s sleeve, trembling, seemingly trying to stop him from getting involved.

Luo Hanyai shook his head at Shi Can. "What must come will come. It is time to settle all of this."

"Xiaofeng, Brother will take you..." Luo Hanyai opened the door to Xiaofeng’s room. A biting chill rushed out, making him shudder as if he had fallen into an ice cave.

"Mother, Brother is here. Don’t worry, Xiaofeng will come back." Xiaofeng lay on the bed, his eyes vacant, staring fixedly at the empty bed beside him, like a young boy saying goodbye to his mother—yet there was nothing there at all.

Luo Hanyai’s expression remained unchanged. He simply bowed his head, walked to the bedside, and stood in silence, waiting for Xiaofeng to finish his farewells.

"Cough, cough, cough..."

"Mother, Xiaofeng is leaving." Xiaofeng tried to sit up, but he was too weak, failing after several attempts.

"Xiaofeng, let Brother help you." Luo Hanyai walked over and gently picked him up. He couldn't help but shiver; it felt as if he were holding a block of eternal ice, and he looked at Xiaofeng in astonishment.

"Brother, put me down," Xiaofeng shook his head, gesturing for Luo Hanyai to lower him.

"But..."

"Cough, cough, cough..."

"Xiaofeng, you’re coughing up blood again."

"It’s okay, Brother. Give me your right hand."

Xiaofeng looked at Luo Hanyai’s right hand, dipped his trembling finger into the blood he had coughed up, and traced a character: "Cold."

Luo Hanyai was startled, wondering why Xiaofeng had written that.

[Congratulations, you have obtained Xiaofeng’s Blood Seal.]
[Name: Xiaofeng’s Blood Seal]
[Type: Rune Seal]
[Quality: Perfect]
[Effect: Grants immunity to all ice-type skills below the seventh tier.]
[Note: A mark condensed from Xiaofeng’s heart’s blood, containing immense cold energy.]

Luo Hanyai stood frozen, then smiled bitterly and patted his own head. He realized he was in a game, yet he couldn't tell if it was all too real or if he was simply too immersed. He couldn't help but ask himself again, "Is this truly just a game? Why does everything feel so real?"

***

"Brother, let’s go." After drawing the seal, Xiaofeng seemed even weaker. He looked blankly at the bed beside him and waved his hand gently.

"Let’s go."

Luo Hanyai picked up Xiaofeng and walked out of the room.

"Mother..." As he left the room, Luo Hanyai heard Xiaofeng’s low, weak whisper in his ear, tinged with a trace of contentment.

Luo Hanyai closed his eyes and took a deep breath to suppress the pain in his chest. He looked back once, as if trying to etch this room into the depths of his memory.

In that moment of looking back, he saw a phantom figure facing him—a woman, stroking her son as he departed.

"Remember, he became like this because of you. You owe us both a life," a soft female voice drifted into Luo Hanyai’s ear, carving itself into his heart.

Luo Hanyai blinked hard. An electric shock surged from his head to his toes, and his heart hammered wildly. He swallowed hard, desperate to know what the truth really was.

"Cough, cough, cough..."

"This is likely my fate. Don’t blame yourself, Brother; no one could change this." Xiaofeng looked at Luo Hanyai, then at his mother, and rested his head on Luo Hanyai’s shoulder. His pale-as-paper face suddenly flushed with a trace of crimson.

"Sigh... go on then." The soft female voice sighed and vanished into the shadows, as if it had never been there at all.

"Xiaofeng, what is going on here?"

"Brother, you will know soon. I am so tired. Let me rest for a while."

Xiaofeng lay weakly on Luo Hanyai’s shoulder, his chest heaving, but he lacked the strength to cough, forced to bury all his pain deep within his chest.

***

In the dim corridor, the cold, deathly atmosphere grew even heavier. The tangible aura transformed into countless demons, dancing and clawing around Luo Hanyai as he walked with bowed head, holding Xiaofeng, while whispering a funeral dirge.

"You said April is the cruelest month,
Building a dream of nothingness upon the wasteland,
Mixing memories and desires,
With spring rain urging the departed spirits.
...
You cannot speak,
You cannot open your mouth,
The living have all become broken idols,
Enduring the lashing of black rain.
I cannot speak,
My eyes cannot see,
I am neither living,
Nor have I died.
We know nothing,
Staring blankly at the black structure deep in the fog,
It is a deathly silence.
Hidden within the cold is a warmth,
That is your uncooled corpse,
We wait for the bell to toll,
To send you to your grave."