novelraw Chapter 150: Lin Fan: "I’m such a fool..."
Chapter 150: Lin Fan: "I’m such a fool..."
Lin Fan just stared at him with cold eyes.
After obtaining such strength and displaying it in front of him... Now he was asking what it could do?
Wasn’t this obvious mockery?
If this is not humiliation, then what is?
This man was clearly mocking him for knowing the opportunity, yet failing to grasp it.
Lin Fan clenched his fists slightly.
But in the end, he lowered his head and remained silent.
"Not speaking?" Wu Chaochang said casually.
He didn’t seem bothered.
"It doesn’t matter."
He turned away as if losing interest.
"Seven."
"Yes, leader?"
A red-robed figure stepped forward.
Wu Chaochang didn’t even look back and casually ordered.
"Dispose of him."
His tone was indifferent.
"Extract all his blood and take out his heart. Don’t waste anything."
It sounded like he was giving instructions to take out trash.
Lin Fan’s body went cold.
For a moment, he couldn’t react.
’They’re... serious?’
"Understood, leader." Number Seven nodded, as if this were a normal routine.
He then asked, "What about the other one?"
Wu Chaochang paused slightly. "Him?"
After a brief thought.
"His use is also over. Deal with him the same."
Butcher Deng’s body trembled violently. His face turned pale.
’This... is this it?’
’Is this how his life ends?’
His breathing became uneven. His earlier prayers echoed in his mind.
But there was no answer, and he couldn’t see any hope.
Number Seven stepped forward.
In his hand was a sharp knife, and the other was carrying several empty bottles.
He walked slowly toward them without much thought or hesitation. Each step was steady. But it brought tremors to their hearts. Stepping on their hopes each time.
Lin Fan’s heart pounded violently.
"No... wait—stop!" he suddenly shouted, his voice breaking slightly.
His head snapped toward Wu Chaochang.
"I’ll tell you! I’ll tell you everything about the meteorite!"
"Just... make him stop!"
Wu Chaochang glanced at him. His expression was calm. Almost amused.
"Oh?"
Then a faint smile appeared.
"Too late."
"I’m not interested anymore."
Lin Fan’s pupils shrank.
He struggled instinctively against the ropes.
But it was useless.
The bindings didn’t budge.
"Stop struggling," Number Seven said calmly as he raised the knife. "Don’t worry, it won’t hurt much."
A brief pause.
"I’ve done this many times."
The blade lifted.
Then, swung down.
At that moment, time seemed to slow.
Lin Fan’s eyes widened.
The world around him blurred.
His thoughts became rushed.
’Is this... how it ends?’
’Once again?’
A bitter feeling rose in his chest.
’Did I waste my second chance... too?’
If he had known it would end like this, he would have lived differently.
Maybe a simple and peaceful life.
What was the point of ambition?
Of revenge?
Of reaching the top?
If there was no life left to live, it?
His chest tightened. His breathing seemed to stop.
’Mom...’
He hadn’t yet improved her life.
His father...
That useless gambler is still addicted.
’...Sister Rui...’
His throat tightened.
’I didn’t even get to apologise...’
A faint bitterness spread in his heart.
’God gave me two chances...’
’And I failed both times.’
The blade closed in.
And Lin Fan didn’t even close his eyes as he stared at the sharp, cold blade about to end his life.
’I’m such a fool...’
Just when the blade was about to stab him to death, a sudden whoosh sounded, and Lin Fan felt something blur in his vision.
Someone appeared in front of him and blocked the knife with two fingers.
The scene hadn’t even registered in his mind as the shock and the joy of survival overwhelmed him.
’Am I saved?’
’Are you giving me another chance? God?’
His gaze locked on the broad, assuring back in front of him, as tears appeared at the corners of his eyes.
’Whoever you are... Thank you...’
***
Number Seven’s expression changed the moment his blade stopped. The force he had put into the strike was not small, yet the knife did not move even a fraction further.
His eyes fixed on the two fingers holding the blade, disbelief flashed across his face. He instinctively tried to pull it back, tightening his grip and using more strength.
However, it didn’t move. Not even slightly.
It was as if the knife had been caught in something immovable.
"Who are you?" Number Seven’s voice rose as he demanded the identity, trying again to pull the blade free.
This time, he used all his strength, but the result was the same. The knife remained locked in place between those fingers, as if mocking all his efforts.
His shout alerted the others.
The red-robed figures immediately turned their attention toward the scene. Their earlier calmness vanished, replaced by sharp vigilance.
What shocked them was not just the sudden appearance of this person, but the fact that none of them had sensed anything before he appeared.
It was as if he had simply come out of nowhere.
Even now, as they stared directly at him, they could not sense any aura from his body. If not for the fact that he was clearly standing there, they would have believed that there was no one at all.
The man was old. His robe was simple and unremarkable, and his presence didn’t carry any visible pressure. Yet that very absence of his aura made him more unsettling.
Without any need for orders, the group reacted.
They spread out and surrounded him, their movements quick and coordinated. Some kept their eyes locked on the old man, while others scanned the surroundings, wary that he might have accomplices hidden.
"Who is he...?" one of them muttered under his breath.
"Be careful," another whispered. "Something’s wrong with him."
Number Four narrowed his eyes slightly but didn’t act rashly. Even someone like him, who had seen many things, felt a faint unease at this moment.
Then someone noticed something.
"Wait... look at his clothes."
The words drew everyone’s attention.
Their gazes shifted toward the old man’s robe, focusing on the marking on his back. For a brief moment, there was silence as recognition set in. They were familiar with it.
"That symbol..."
One of them spoke slowly, his tone tightening.
"...White Moon Sect."
***
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