Kidnapping the entire Journey to the West, starting by turning Sun Wukong against his own side.

Chapter 183 Two Disabled Officials

The lamp was moved forward an inch; the flame didn't grow larger, but it stabilized.

Two disfigured figures hung suspended in mid-air, one on the left and one on the right, like two shadows torn from old paper. The one on the left wore a monk's robe with long sleeves, and held a thin bone pen in his hand. The one on the right wore an official's robe, the hem of which swayed gently even though there was no wind, and held one narrow paper slip after another between his fingers.

People in the port area retreated to the back, and no one ran around.

They'd seen it all along the way. When they were truly scared, they didn't shout; instead, they gritted their teeth and stared at the backs of the people in front of them.

The accountant monk glanced down at the ground.

The new names on the ground were lit up, line by line, none of them long. Some were porters, some were children who had lost their surnames, and two were the names of dead people who had just been pulled from the old warehouse that night.

He smiled and pointed with the bone pen.

"New accounts are the easiest to change."

The pen tip fell, and a sheet of gray paper instantly spread out in mid-air. Not a single word was written on the paper, but everyone standing in the harbor felt a heaviness in their chests, as if someone had categorized them through their bellies before copying them onto the paper.

Xuanzang took a step forward with the lantern, his face pale.

"He's defining it."

"First, write down living people as samples, then return them to the old cases."

Chen Fan was prepared, pressing the pen seal even tighter in his palm, but he didn't move his feet, only staring at the gray paper.

On the other side, the naming official had already unfolded the first slip of paper.

The paper tag was thin, yet its edges were frighteningly sharp. As soon as it straightened up, the ink marks on the cracked names on the wall all jolted, as if recognizing it.

"Chen Fan".

The naming officer read out the first one.

With a flick of his wrist, he aimed straight at Chen Fan's forehead.

Sun Wukong swung his cudgel and smashed it. The cudgel struck the paper slip, but it only made a series of crisp sounds. The paper slip folded, turned a corner, and stuck to Chen Fan's shoulder again.

"Damn, it can even recognize people."

Sun Wukong stomped his foot and chased after him, his staff forming a straight line. This time, he wasn't smashing paper, but rather the naming official's hand.

The naming official raised his sleeve to block, half of which was torn to shreds, but he retreated three zhang (approximately 10 meters) and the second slip of paper was already between his fingers.

"Sun Wukong".

"Mysterious Treasury".

"Si Mo".

Each time a name is read aloud, a thin black frame appears on the ground, as if marking out a spot for the person.

Si Mo was holding the tent, his back was soaked with sweat.

She knew better than anyone how troublesome this was. Bookkeeping was like archiving, naming was like locking the door. The former gave you a source, the latter directly crammed you into that name. Once the name was accepted, all subsequent explanations were just nonsense.

"Don't answer!"

She called out to the person behind her.

"Don't respond to anyone who calls out to you!"

Chen Fan hummed in agreement, his gaze still fixed on the accountant monk.

The bookkeeper monk had already begun writing on the gray paper with his bone pen. He wrote extremely fast, each stroke light and seemingly effortless, yet each stroke sent shivers down one's spine.

"The cases involve relocation of residents in the port area."

"The former subordinates of Huaguo Mountain were recovered under unusual circumstances."

"The author of the second page exceeded his/her authority."

As the last four words were uttered, the flame of the green lamp suddenly shrank.

Chen Fan felt as if he had been hit in the chest with a dull thud, and his feet sank. He looked down and saw a light gray checkered pattern rising from the edge of his shoe.

"Chen Fan".

Xuanzang lowered his voice.

"It needs to reserve your spot first, then it will seal the second page."

Chen Fan did not respond.

He simply raised his hand, took the green lamp, and placed it directly into Xuanzang's hand.

"You and Si Mo, turn up the witness statement."

Si Mo was taken aback and looked up at him.

"The witness column? That empty column in the ledger?"

"right."

Chen Fan stared at the bookkeeper monk, speaking rapidly.

"It can define itself because it claims to be the Lord. It can affix labels because the name wall recognizes its authority. We are not competing with it for the main column, but for witnesses."

Xuanzang reacted first, turning around and pressing the lamp onto the tent.

The ledger flipped open by itself with a clatter, the pages stopping in the middle, and sure enough, there was a narrow, almost invisible blank space at the very edge, as if it were for someone to make marginal notes.

Si Mo's hand trembled slightly.

"Nobody has ever touched this before."

"Let's do it now."

Chen Fan took a step forward, and the gray line under his feet had already climbed up to his calves.

"You write down what you saw and heard tonight, Xuanzang writes down where Foyin came from, and I will sign the document. Don't write any judgments, just write down what you saw."

The accountant monk then looked up, and for the first time, the smile was gone from his face.

"The witness board is not for you."

Chen Fan grinned.

"You've practically written me off as a sample, and now you're telling me who it belongs to?"

As soon as he finished speaking, he slapped the pen and seal onto the account book.

With a snap.

The entire book of loose-leaf account paper suddenly became bright and shiny.

Without further hesitation, Si Mo picked up his pen and wrote: "Tonight, the old seal is pressed into the port. The bookkeeping official first provides a sample, then determines the case, without showing the original order."

Xuanzang then wrote: "The names of the deceased officials are recited aloud, and the names are sealed by slips of paper. The origins of these slips are neither Buddhist edicts nor divine decrees."

The two lines of text had barely been written when the gray paper on which the accountant was keeping the records wrinkled.

It felt like someone was pulling it from behind, and the written words slowly became blurry.

Chen Fan raised his hand and emphasized the witness column with his fingertip.

"Add one more sentence."

"Everything written tonight is witnessed by people, by lamplight, and by the old treasury's seal."

As soon as those words were spoken, the flame of the lamp shot up half a foot higher.

The bookkeeper's bone pen trembled, and a roll of extremely old yellow paper suddenly fell from his sleeve. The roll of paper seemed to have been sewn into the cuff of his sleeve, and when it fell, it still had two broken threads attached to it.

Si Mo had sharp eyes and immediately noticed that the scroll of paper did not have Buddhist seals or celestial patterns.

There was only a tiny black character.

account.

"Original text!"

She shouted it out.

Sun Wukong didn't need her reminder; he leaped into the air first, his golden cudgel sweeping across, aiming straight for the roll of yellow paper.

The naming officer suddenly cut in, throwing out a dozen slips of paper at once, like a dozen thin knives, specifically targeting Sun Wukong's wrists and the head of his staff.

"You dare touch the main text?"

Before he finished speaking, his third eye opened.

Yang Jian remained motionless, standing beneath the port gate beam, his third eye on his forehead gazing directly at the naming officer's chest.

This photo is not of its face, nor of the sign in its hand.

It was the constantly pulsating ink core inside his official robe.

"Found it."

Yang Jian's voice was cold.

"It is not in the name of the Jade Emperor."

"The root of its life register in its chest is not connected to Lingxiao, but is connected to the general ledger interface."

Even Xuanzang was stunned when he heard this.

The Buddhist sect is not in charge, nor is the Heavenly Court.

The two remaining officials they suppressed tonight were merely hooks at the execution level.

Chen Fan's heart sank, but his eyes shone even brighter.

"Yang Jian, cut off its core."

"Sun Wukong, stealing the article!"

"Xuanzang, don't let the witness stand broken."

The three people moved almost simultaneously.

Yang Jian flipped his three-pointed, double-edged sword, the blade not striking his body, but directly aiming for the dark spot on the naming official's chest. The naming official hastily retreated, raising his hand to affix seven slips of paper, each bearing an official's name. The Kitchen God, the River God, the City God, the Judge... the slips of paper exploded one by one, as if temporarily borrowing old names from various places for protection.

Yang Jian didn't even look at them; with a flick of his Heavenly Eye, the borrowed official titles turned white on the spot.

"They're all just peeling skin."

The blade advanced another half inch, and with a soft "poof" sound, a palm-sized blackboard was revealed in the namer's chest from under his robe. A thin needle was nailed to the center of the board, with an extremely long and thin ink line trailing behind it, stretching straight up into the sky, its end invisible.

On the other side, Sun Wukong smashed three slips of paper with his staff, then grabbed half of the rolled-up yellow paper with his left hand. The accounting monk let out a strange cry, and his bone pen slammed onto his wrist. Suddenly, all the definitive words on the gray paper rushed towards Sun Wukong.

"Samples, archive, seal old categories!"

The three words are like three lumps of wet mud; once stuck on, they sink.

Sun Wukong's shoulder swayed, and his movements actually slowed down a bit.

Chen Fan rushed forward and placed his hand on Sun Wukong's back, the ink seal on his palm burning hot.

Look over here!

He wasn't shouting at the monkey, he was shouting at the roll of yellow paper.

"The witness section is open, and the original command has been presented. The person in charge tonight is unknown, the source of the order is pending verification, and the previous determination is temporarily suspended!"

This sentence sounded like it was squeezed out between teeth.

But it happens to be useful.

The roll of yellow paper shook twice in Sun Wukong's hand, and a corner of it unfolded on its own.

The writing on the top is extremely faint, as if it was written and then erased; only the first few lines are still legible.

"At the Western Port, if the operator on the second page goes over the bar, two disabled officials will be dispatched to verify the name and identity."

"If you encounter a testimony written in reverse—"

The word is cut off in half here, and the image behind it was forcibly torn off by someone.

But those two sentences alone are enough.

Si Mo stared at the paper, a chill running down his spine.

"They knew all along that someone would write the testimony backwards."

"This wasn't a last-minute visit."

The blue lamp in Xuanzang's hand flickered, yet it still steadily illuminated the account pages.

"It's not Buddha, it's not heaven, it's that someone left an interface on the main ledger. Whoever touches the second page will be investigated."

The fire in Chen Fan's eyes completely subsided.

He suddenly understood.

Over the years, they've smashed Buddhist seals, dismantled heavenly laws, and raided old warehouses, thinking they were dealing with both sides. Now, seeing this interface, they realize there's another layer above. Buddhism and Taoism are like two hands; the one truly wielding the pen is mostly behind the scenes.

The bookkeeper monk could no longer hold on.

As soon as the witness column opened, words began to leak from its gray paper. The names of those people in the port area who had been categorized by it fell off the edge of the gray paper one by one, landing on the ground and revealing their true forms again.

The kind and gentle look on its face was shattered, and its mouth was torn all the way to its ears, like an old painting that had been torn askew.

"You think you've won?"

It stared at Chen Fan, its voice sharp and dry.

"The second page was merely a trial page."

Yang Jian also sliced ​​open the blackboard on the naming official's chest with a single stroke. The fine needle broke, but the ink line did not immediately disperse. Instead, it trembled wildly in mid-air, as if searching for a new landing point.

Yang Jian raised his hand and grabbed the piece of thread, snapping it in two.

The naming official collapsed on one side of his body on the spot, but he was still laughing.

"The tenth time."

It squeezed out those three words from its throat.

"If you go to the tenth page... the person who created the book will write it down himself."

As soon as he finished speaking, both broken bodies shattered together.

There was no blood, and no flesh.

There was only a pile of ashes, a broken pen bone, and the blackboard that had been pried open.

The port area was quiet for several breaths.

None of the people behind dared to speak first, and they even held their breath.

Si Mo first closed the curtain, then pressed his palm on the cover and held it down for a long time before finally suppressing the slight tremor.

"It's not Buddhism or Taoism investigating us."

"They are just the bottom two floors of gatehouses."

Xuanzang, carrying a lantern, looked at the tattered yellow paper.

"Accountant setter... Head office..."

He paused for a moment, then said in a low voice, "So what we've been smashing all along is just the sign hanging outside."

Sun Wukong tossed the yellow paper to Chen Fan and stretched his aching shoulders.

"Then keep smashing it in."

"If it dares to write, I'll go and break its pen too."

Yang Jian sheathed his sword, and the third eye on his forehead slowly closed.

"Don't rush."

"Before this thread broke, I saw it turn northwest. It wasn't in Heaven, nor was it on Mount Ling."

Chen Fan took the yellow paper and glanced down at the blackboard on the ground.

There is a line of very fine characters engraved on the back of the board, like a note left by the craftsman.

"Name approved by Yi Jiu, assigned to the external interface of the general ledger."

He finished reading the words and suddenly laughed.

There wasn't much of a smile on his face; it was more like he was letting out a breath he'd been holding back for a long time.

"Okay, we've finally reached the door."

He bent down to pick up the broken pen and then put the blackboard into his pocket.

"Seal these two items into the old warehouse first."

"Si Mo, go back and check the Yi Jiu sequence. Xuan Zang, copy down the fragments of the original destiny text. Yang Jian, keep an eye on the direction of that line. Old Sun—"

Sun Wukong picked up his staff and raised an eyebrow at him.

Chen Fan raised his hand and pointed to the group of people behind the port area.

"You stand guard at the gate all night."

"If they fail to reach the core tonight, they'll most likely try another hand."

Sun Wukong grinned.

"become."

The wind picked up at the port, and the ashes from the paper on the ground were blown around and swirled into the distant ditch, where they quickly turned into a wet, black mess.

The green lamp is still burning.

The flames illuminated the new name, and also the fragments of text in Chen Fan's hand.

After this battle, no one felt relieved.

The old seal is broken.

The general ledger at the top, however, was only partially opened.

Chapter 617 Monkey Heart Enters the Body

When the door to the Ninth Original Arena opened, there was no wind or sound inside.

The ground was like a smooth, black stone slab, with old copper buckles embedded in its four corners. The Bull Demon King placed the Monkey Heart Stone in the center; his hands were covered in cracks, the blood long since dried. He didn't utter a sound, but simply took a step back, making way for Sun Wukong.

The shadow of the native monkey stood behind the stone platform, its shadow as thin as a layer of smoke.

"Let's take a look first."

With a flick of its wrist, a ring of old records appeared on the stone platform.

Chen Fan stood to the side, still holding the ledger in his hand. He didn't urge him. Sun Wukong didn't rush forward either, but simply held his staff across his shoulder, staring at the slowly brightening shadow.

The image shows the earliest group of monkeys in Huaguo Mountain.

They hadn't learned to line up, nor had they learned to bow their heads. They would fight over fruit, roar when dividing water, and huddle together at the cave entrance at night, nudging each other when someone woke up. But that wildness didn't last long. Soon, a thin needle emerged from the mirror, moving down the ridge, specifically targeting the monkeys' brightest eyes, hardest claws, and most unyielding spirit, slowly sipping away their strength.

First, let's draw out the wildness.

Then draw the reverse.

Finally, draw the cards with the same concentricity.

The monkeys became quiet in the mirror. Quiet to the point of being wooden. Some people put name tags on them, some tied their feet with ropes, and some taught them to walk according to the rules. They did as they were told. But with each step, it felt as if their feet were stepping on empty shells.

As Sun Wukong watched, his throat moved.

He didn't curse.

He didn't laugh either.

He simply lowered the stick slowly.

"So it wasn't that I forgot."

He stared at the old record, his voice hoarse.

"Someone emptied us out first."

The original monkey shadow neither nodded nor shook its head.

"As long as the monkey's heart remains, the shell can be mended," it said. "But what you mend back isn't your old life. It's your own spirit."

Chen Fan turned to a blank page in the ledger, his pen hovering there, but he didn't put it down.

"Let's open it."

Sun Wukong stepped onto the stone platform and knelt on one knee. He reached out and picked up the monkey heart stone. The stone was heavy, like a piece of frozen iron. As soon as it touched his palm, the stone began to crack. Black lines crawled outwards, and specks of golden-red hue peeked out from the cracks, like embers buried for too long in the bottom of an old furnace.

Without hesitation, Sun Wukong opened his mouth and swallowed it.

In an instant, he froze completely.

His shoulders and back trembled first, then his chest, and then down to his heels, as if something was pulling them inward. But he didn't kneel. He just pressed his palms against his chest, his breathing became heavy, and his teeth were clenched tightly. Only after the spasms subsided did he slowly raise his head.

Those eyes didn't become much brighter.

It's just a bit more stable now.

Like a well, there used to be something covering it. Now that the lid is loose, the water at the bottom can finally see the light of day.

"I, Old Sun..." He paused, then said in a low voice, "I don't want to hear other people name me anymore."

As soon as he finished speaking, a muffled thud came from under the stone platform.

It's like a loose door bolt.

It's like someone breaking open a long-pressed iron chain at the foot of a mountain.

The original monkey shadow took a step back, its shadow fading slightly. It raised its hand and pointed to the side wall of the stone platform. Where it had been empty, now a fine network of lines slowly emerged. Not words, but more like a mountain map. Several broken lines intersected, with a dot in the center, like a nail, or perhaps an eye.

"Zhenyuan Authority Coordinates".

The white dragon horse glanced down and gently pursed its lips.

"Deep within the original site." He paused, "Also at the foot of Flower Fruit Mountain."

Pigsy touched his nose.

"Will this clean it up completely?"

"It can open a second level," said the original monkey shadow. "Whether it can be completely contained depends on whether he can hold onto that last breath."

Sun Wukong didn't reply. He raised his hand and touched his chest, where it was still slightly warm. But the warmth wasn't scalding; it was like the lingering warmth before dawn after sitting by a fire all night in winter.

Chen Fan closed the ledger and wrote a stroke on a blank page.

"The monkey heart returns to its original position."

"The name is locked halfway up the pine tree."

He wrote very steadily, as if he were keeping the most ordinary account.

The sky outside was changing. The gray fog that had been pressing down on the mountain pass slowly parted. In the distance, the sound of monkeys running could be heard. They weren't running around randomly, but rather in groups heading towards the water, not in a straight line, but with firm footsteps. The older monkeys were in front, and the younger ones were behind. No one was calling out to them; they knew exactly where to go.

After that day, Huaguo Mountain removed all the old signs.

All the wooden plaques with names written on them were split into pieces and thrown into the furnace to burn. The monkeys, who used to always keep their heads down, began to look people in the eye. When someone asked who the mountain's owner was, they pointed to the newly erected black stone tablet halfway up the mountain, on which was inscribed only one line: Flower and Fruit Mountain, not registered in any register.

The Bull Demon King left his son outside the mountain gate and went to the Western Ridge. Iron Fan no longer mentioned the old battles, only ordering her cave to be repaired three times, leaving only a front courtyard for sunbathing. The White Dragon Horse returned to the seaside, guarding the old waterway, never again harnessing anyone. Tang Sanzang dismantled the old scriptures, took them to town to exchange for paper and ink, and later opened a small hut on the south bank, teaching people to read and to not live for others.

As for the two mutilated bodies that had inscribed their names in the sky, they never reappeared after the old seals crumbled. Some said they had escaped back to Heaven. But after that night, the cold, white light of paper never shone again outside the Heavenly Gate. The people of the port area no longer heard the bells ringing to turn over the accounts. Chen Fan only wrote one sentence on the last page of the general ledger: "Old accounts cleared, those who inscribed their names have left the stage." After closing that page, he washed his pen, put it in the wooden box, and never took it out again.

Three years later, the peaches in the mountains ripened twice.

In spring, the wind would blow across the mountain ridges, and the monkeys would count off, distribute the fruit, and guard the gate themselves. Sun Wukong often sat under a tree, occasionally tapping his chest, as if listening to see if his heart was still there. Chen Fan was still on the mountain, not having returned elsewhere. He managed the accounts, repaired the fences, and taught the new monkeys to read. The lights went out early at night, leaving only a small fire in the room, illuminating the closed book he kept.

That late autumn, the last basket of peaches was delivered to the warehouse, and silence fell outside the mountain gate. The wind blew through the woods, bringing no other news. Chen Fan tucked the ledger into the bottom of the cabinet and blew out the lamp wick. The room was dark for a moment, then only a pale moon shone through the window.

The matter of Huaguo Mountain is now settled.

Those who were supposed to come back have come back.

Those who were supposed to leave have left.

Those who were meant to leave have left.

Chen Fan sat on the threshold and heard the sound of the monkeys closing the gate and bolting it down below the mountain. He lowered his head, patted the dust off his sleeves, and said softly, "That's it for today."

The story is over.

Chapter 618 Zhenyuan's Authority

The stone platform is not located on the mountaintop.

It's not under the old warehouse either.

After finishing reading the remaining text, Chen Fan took the half-warmed pen seal and walked along the crack behind the Water Curtain Cave for half the night before finally finding a damp, flat stone between the True Source Lock and the Mountain Lord Lock.

The rock looked like it was bulging out of the mountain's belly.

There were no railings or words on any of the four sides.

There's only a shallow pit in the middle, like something was placed there last year, but it's been worn away over time.

As Sun Wukong stood on it, the layer of dust beneath his feet suddenly dispersed, revealing a ring of fine lines.

The lines extend outwards, connecting to the stone walls on both sides.

The one on the left is the True Source Lock.

On the right is the mountain's main lock.

Two old locks, one bright and one dark, separated the stone platform, like two eyes, both staring at the monkey on the platform.

The white dragon horse looked down and its Adam's apple bobbed.

"It's really hidden here."

Xuanzang pushed the green lamp forward, and as the wick flickered, a line of old characters slowly emerged from the center of the platform.

Zhenyuan's authority originally belonged to the mountain lord, who also held control over the three gates of returning to the origin, recognizing the pulse, and unlocking the lock.

Further down, there is a line of smaller print.

Those who do not fight should not hold out.

Those who are not from the anti-heroic lineage should not touch it.

Zhu Ganglie clicked his tongue.

"This thing is clearly meant for monkeys."

Si Mo didn't reply.

He held the tent tightly, his eyes fixed on the last sentence.

Chen Fan saw it too.

Sun Wukong has no shortage of fighting spirit.

Anti-bone source, on the other hand, grows from the cracks in the bones.

But the fact that this thing is here proves one thing—it has never fallen back into Sun Wukong's hands.

Sun Wukong squatted down and reached out to touch it.

With his fingertips still half an inch away from the stone pit, a muffled thud suddenly came from the bottom of the platform.

It looks like someone kicked the stone gate from below.

Immediately afterwards, a plume of black smoke rose from the pit, condensing into a thin, elongated monkey shadow, half real and half illusory, with its tail dragging on the ground, and even its face looking like it had been torn from old paper.

It looked up and saw Sun Wukong.

After staring at it for a while, he finally grinned.

"We're late."

Sun Wukong held his golden cudgel horizontally.

"What era's remnant are you, daring to block my way?"

The monkey shadow wasn't annoyed; it simply pointed to the center of the platform.

"I'm not blocking the way. I'm just leaving a message."

"The authority is no longer here."

"Back then, the person who built the accountant sealed off the mountain, fearing that you would really take over the position of mountain master. So he first dismantled the authority of Zhenyuan and then transferred the accountant from here to the main accountant."

As soon as he said that, all the fine lines on the four sides of the stone platform lit up.

Chen Fan's palm tightened.

"Where is the main tent?"

The monkey's shadow turned to look at him, its eyes holding a hint of something unspoken, a sense of nostalgia.

"Didn't you already guess that?"

"The general ledger is lifted. The old seal is pressed down. The deep vault can open a second page. The Monkey Heart Stone is retrieved from Flower Fruit Mountain. The mountain owner locks the heart, not the person. All the threads converge in one place."

"After removing the lock, there's still a door."

"The main tent is right behind the door."

Xuanzang's lamp went out, and he asked a question first.

"What will happen if power is not regained?"

The monkey's shadow looked toward Sun Wukong.

"Then at most he'll only be considered back to square one."

"It's the same him."

"He is not the one who inherited the title of mountain lord."

"You can return to your roots, but you can't take over power. You can smash mountains, but you can't change the accounts. You can live, but you can't protect this mountain for the next thousand years."

This statement is very plain.

The smile on Sun Wukong's face gradually faded.

He's been making a huge fuss these days, smashing old seals, carrying monkey heart stones, guarding the port, and in the end, it turns out there's still one last link missing.

If you're not good enough, you don't win.

Zhu Ganglie scratched his head.

"Then what are you waiting for? Open the door!"

The white dragon horse frowned.

"The door after the lock was removed is not one that can be opened casually. Only two old seals have been broken, and the general ledger is not completely dead yet. If the main ledger is truly the lair of the accountant, once you step in, there may be no turning back."

"I never intended to turn back."

Chen Fan pressed the seal into the groove on the edge of the stone base, making a soft sound.

"We've come this far. If we retreat now, all the hard work of the past hundred years will have been for nothing, and all the efforts of those who came after will have been in vain."

After he finished speaking, he turned his head to look at Sun Wukong.

"Old Sun."

Sun Wukong, carrying his staff, raised his eyelids.

"explain."

"The authority over Zhenyuan shall be placed in the final account."

"Today, we not only took the door, but also overturned the main tabernacle."

Sun Wukong grinned, revealing his teeth.

"become."

"That sounds like normal speech."

The stone platform trembled immediately upon receiving the writing brush and seal.

Open the left-side true source lock first.

It's not broken, it's retreated.

It shrinks inward layer by layer, like an old tree peeling its bark, revealing a shiny black bone nail inside.

The lock on the right side of the mountain clanged, and the vein patterns on its surface climbed up from the soles of Sun Wukong's feet all the way to the back of his hand. The Monkey Heart Stone throbbed heavily in his chest, as if someone were striking a bell inside.

Chen Fan raised his hand and pressed down on the first page of the movable account book.

"Si Mo, remember this."

Si Mo turned the page and picked up his pen.

"What should I remember?"

"Remembering the former master position of Huaguo Mountain, today we return to the original lineage, not to the old accounts."

"The power in Zhenyuan was transferred, and it was converted from a private to a public tool."

"The one who set up the account book misappropriated the source of the information; the crime lies with the chief accountant, not with this person."

With each word spoken, the stone platform lit up an inch.

The monkey figure standing to the side, upon hearing the last part, suddenly laughed.

It's as if we've waited too long, and finally someone has written these words correctly.

It cupped its hands in a gesture of respect towards Sun Wukong.

"I've kept watch here; my job is done."

Sun Wukong stared at it.

"Who are you?"

The monkey figure thought for a moment.

"I forgot."

"Back then, when we searched for peach pits together in the mountains, we were probably monkeys too."

"After the name was entered into the account, it disappeared."

After it finished speaking, it dispersed on its own.

There was no smoke, and no wind.

Like ink on old paper, gently wiped away.

Xuanzang murmured a Buddhist chant and said nothing more.

The shallow pit in the center of the stone platform slowly cracked open, revealing a straight stone staircase.

There was no light at the bottom of the steps.

Only a strong, stale smell wafted up, making one's throat tighten.

Chen Fan stood at the front and suddenly turned around to look around.

The White Dragon Horse is there. Xuanzang is there. Zhu Bajie is holding a rake. Sha Wujing is guarding the rear. Si Mo is holding a tent. Liu Er is also squatting at the cave entrance, tilting his head to listen to the sounds below.

These people have all come this far, and each has their own grievances to settle.

It's time to take them all in as well.

Chen Fan first looked at Xuanzang.

"You promised me that in the end, you wouldn't mourn for them, but only leave a light for the living."

Xuanzang nodded.

"I remember."

"As long as the lamp is there, I am here. When the lamp goes out, I will return to Xiqu Temple, seal up that empty hall, and no longer guard the gate for anyone."

Chen Fan looked at the white dragon horse.

"The old names you're looking for, Curry has retrieved them all. If you'd like, stay at the port and put new name tags on those who don't have them."

The white dragon horse patted the old piece of paper in its arms.

"I stayed."

"I'll set up the signboard. I'll scout the road."

Chen Fan then looked at Zhu Bajie and Sha Wujing.

Zhu Ganglie waved his hand first.

"I understand. After this battle is over, I won't go back to Tianhe, nor will I acknowledge the old records. I've seen that wasteland down the mountain; it's arable. I'll go and cultivate the land; no one will starve."

Sha Wujing said in a muffled voice, "I'll guard the river mouth. I'll stop any that come. From now on, no more dirty water from outside the mountains is allowed to flow in."

Liu Er sat on the rock and tapped his ear cartilage.

"I don't have any grand ambitions. From now on, if anyone tries to cover up their lies, I'll expose them for them."

Chen Fan smiled.

The smile was faint, more like the sigh of relief before finishing work.

Finally, he looked at Sun Wukong.

"And you?"

Sun Wukong, carrying his staff, stood in the center of the stage.

"Take power and receive the mountain lord."

"If anyone tries to stuff the monkeys from this mountain into their tent again, I'll beat them until their pen breaks."

As soon as he finished speaking, a loud boom suddenly came from below the stone steps.

The deep door opened by itself.

That night, they all went inside the door.

The main tent was smaller than anyone expected.

A dark case, a cold lamp, and an unclosed ledger.

The person who set up the tent wasn't some kind of monster with three heads and six arms; he was just a thin old man in an old robe, his ten fingers completely black, as if he had been soaking in ink for years. He guarded the general ledger, and when everyone arrived, he didn't even get up, only saying one sentence.

"You shouldn't have come down."

Sun Wukong didn't waste any words with him and smashed the corner of the table with his staff.

Chen Fan raised the seal and pressed it down. Si Mo continued the process. Xuan Zang held up a lantern to illuminate the ink veins. The White Dragon Horse cut off the connecting lock on the edge of the platform. Zhu Bajie and Sha Wujing blocked the old seal that was being reintroduced outside. Liu Er listened to the false names trying to escape from the main tent.

This battle lasted a long time.

So much time has passed that three layers of dust have settled on the stone steps.

When the last page tore open, the accountant still tried to stuff the Zhenyuan authority into the crack of the main account. Sun Wukong reached out and snatched it, and with a snap of his palms, the black gold authority seemed to recognize its master, directly melting into his wrist bone.

The stone platform trembled from afar.

The entire Flower and Fruit Mountain echoed with the sound.

The person who built the account book did not die from the blows.

His old robe crumbled first, and the ink in his hands dried. Once the general ledger was cleared, he seemed to have lost all his strength, sitting there and slumping down. Chen Fan didn't kill him, but simply wrote his name on the last page of the living ledger, leaving him under the main ledger desk to guard the empty table, checking old errors daily until all were resolved.

The old printing industry ended here.

The mountain lord has returned to his rightful place.

True source lock unlock.

The black ink that had weighed on their names all those years has been removed in batches.

Tang Sanzang later returned to the mountain gate, stood at the stone steps for half a day, lit incense for each of the people who had died on the old road, and then took the green lamp to Xiniu Hezhou, where he opened a small temple, not accepting incense offerings, but only accepting lost travelers. Ao Lie delivered grain to him a few times, and as he continued, he also took charge of the port area and the temple road. Zhu Ganglie cultivated a hundred acres of land at the foot of the mountain, complaining about being tired, but laughing the loudest during the autumn harvest. Sha Wujing guarded the river mouth until old age, and whoever came would first take a boat to hear him tell how the mountain had come back to life from the tent. Liu Er traveled the farthest, going wherever there were fake scriptures and seals to expose them.

As for Chen Fan...

He didn't leave.

The day the main account was overturned, he combined the first page of the ledger with the seal and the living account book, creating a new ledger. From then on, Flower Fruit Mountain would no longer belong to the Heavenly Court or be affiliated with Buddhism; it would only recognize its own name within the mountain. He remained the same accountant, living by the old storehouse, checking the ledgers by day and lighting the lamps at night. When someone came up the mountain to ask about the past, he would turn a couple of pages to show them; if someone was illiterate, he would read more slowly.

Sun Wukong took over the power to control Zhenyuan and also became the mountain lord.

He neither became a Buddha nor reversed fate.

On the newly erected stone outside the mountain gate, only four characters are engraved.

The flowers and fruits have a new owner.

The characters were messy, like he had poked them with the end of a stick.

Many years later, the peach trees in the mountains bloomed again. The old monkey led the little monkey across the warehouse, reciting their names as they ran. If they recited the wrong name, the white dragon horse would hit them with a wooden sign. The harbor lights were on, the boats were moored at the river mouth, green seedlings sprouted on the wasteland, and the bell of the small temple to the west could be heard ringing once or twice through the wind.

Chen Fan sat on the threshold, turned the last page, and put down his pen.

Newly written name tags are drying in the courtyard.

Sun Wukong jumped down from the tree and casually tossed him a peach.

"Are we still going to do the verification?"

Chen Fan caught the peach and looked up at the sky.

"The test is complete."

"This time it's really over."

Chapter 619 Deletion Lock Retrospection

Once the old warehouse door was closed, the noise outside subsided.

Only that one dim lamp remained in the room.

The wick was short, the flame weak, yet steady. Chen Fan pressed the pen and seal against the corner of the desk, then reached out and placed the small black iron lock under the lamp.

The lock face has no hole.

There was only one horizontal mark, as if it had been scratched with fingernails for many years.

Si Mo stood to the side, holding the tent flap, his palms sweaty. Xuan Zang moved the lamp forward half an inch, looked down at the lock, then at Chen Fan.

"Is this it?"

Chen Fan nodded.

"Delete lock".

"The dirtiest things can't get into the old tent, but the cleanest things can be hidden there."

Sun Wukong stood by the door, his staff slung across his shoulder, saying nothing. He stared at the horizontal mark for a while, then suddenly cursed.

"Like coffin nails."

Chen Fan looked up at him, his lips twitched, but he didn't refute.

He extended two fingers, pressed them against the lock, and spoke in a low voice.

"Check the records that have been deleted the most thoroughly."

As soon as he finished speaking, the horizontal crack on the lock slowly split open.

It's not lit.

There was no sound.

The ledger on the table just flipped through itself, one page, two pages, three pages, until it stopped at a blank sheet of paper.

It's completely blank.

Not a drop of ink.

Only a very faint handprint was pressed onto the paper core. Next to the handprint, half a character was still missing.

港。

Si Mo's Adam's apple bobbed.

"The port owner?"

Xuanzang frowned.

"Only half a word?"

Chen Fan reached out and touched the handprint. The moment his fingertip touched it, a ripple of water seeped into the paper, like someone blowing air up a well. Then, a line of extremely faint characters slowly emerged from the blank space.

The record has been deleted nine times.

The operator did not completely delete the content.

Sun Wukong's face darkened.

"Nine times?"

Chen Fan didn't pull his hand away, and his voice was soft.

"Continue the investigation."

"Check the record of Chen Fan's previous nine failures."

This time the lock clicked.

A crisp click came from the black metal casing, like teeth that had been stuck for years finally turning. The blank paper arched upwards, and a layer of grayish-white mist appeared on its surface. When the light shone in, scenes within the mist lit up one by one.

The first act is very short.

At the foot of Wuzhi Mountain.

A man was kneeling in the mud, his fruit basket overturned, peaches scattered all over the ground. A monkey, having just managed to free half an arm from a crevice, reached out and grabbed. The man's chest immediately caved in, before he could even utter a complete sentence.

The staff on Sun Wukong's shoulder sank down.

He stared at his reflection in the fog, without saying a word.

The second act changes even faster.

In the old warehouse of Huaguo Mountain, a "Chen Fan" had just touched the ledger when the entire wall of names pressed down on him. The ink line wrapped around his instep all the way to his throat, dragging him into the ledger pages. Only one line of text remained in the corner of the page.

Stored in the granary.

The third act takes place at the foot of Lingshan Mountain.

The man named "Chen Fan" was still calling out Xuanzang's name when a mark appeared on his forehead. As soon as the mark disappeared, a new name appeared on the tent: Offering. The next instant, he was gone, leaving not even a trace of his bones.

The fourth act is even stranger.

It is a port.

He was clearly standing in the crowd, but in the blink of an eye, everyone was calling another person Chen Fan. The imposter took the pen, signed and stamped the document, and treated the real person as the imposter, personally escorting him to the sinking warehouse.

The fifth act is the naming lock challenge.

If someone misspells half a stroke in their name, they'll instantly split into two pages: one page remains flesh, the other remains sound. The surviving page goes mad, and within half a day, the old seal is taken away.

The sixth act takes place in the Water Curtain Cave.

The moment the Monkey Heart Stone entered his body, before recognizing him, it recognized him first. His heartbeat stopped, and the black gold ball in his chest surged out, tearing half of the warehouse roof off.

The seventh act is the storyline of Liu Er.

As soon as half of the golden headband appeared, before "Chen Fan" could finish reciting the remaining text, another voice entered his ears. The voice was exactly the same as his, answering the last sentence for him. After answering, the person immediately returned to the paper, like water droplets falling into ink.

Act 8 is the worst.

He walked all the way to the second page, got the stamp, and pushed open the door. Then, an old hand reached out from between the pages, gently placed it on the back of his neck, and pressed him back to the first page. He didn't even have time to struggle before his back bent.

Act 9 has almost no visuals.

I could only see one lamp.

A man sat under the lamp, his shoulders thin, a pen in his hand. As he wrote the word "tenth," a gust of wind suddenly blew in from outside. The lamp went out. The paper went black. When it lit again, only a single annotation remained.

Corrections complete. Restart.

The fog dissipated.

The room was eerily quiet.

The ledger wasn't flipped again, and the deletion lock stopped beeping. Only a tiny spark popped from the lamp wick and fell into the copper dish.

Si Mo held the booklet, his arm stiff.

"I failed to get to the tenth step nine times."

Xuanzang slowly raised his head.

"Every time, someone changes you back."

Chen Fan hummed in agreement.

"The person who sets up the account".

"Or rather, the port owner."

Sun Wukong slammed the end of his staff on the ground and asked him in a muffled voice.

"Who is that thing?"

Chen Fan did not answer immediately.

He stared at the half-character for "Hong Kong" on the paper for a long while before withdrawing his hand. A thin layer of ash, like bits of old paper, clung to his fingertips.

"Me in the first round."

After he said that, no one responded.

Chen Fan finished the sentence himself.

"To be more precise, it's the part that didn't all die in the first round."

"He returned to the warehouse first, and the next nine rounds were all restarted using his remaining funds. The positions of port owner, accountant, and operator were all later attached to his shell."

Si Mo opened his mouth.

"And what about you?"

Chen Fan looked down at his palm.

The lamplight illuminated the lines on my palm, revealing a few faint black lines within them, like ink marks that had been written and then erased.

"I am the backup."

"All the memories that were left unfinished in the nine rounds are stored in my share."

To put it bluntly, I am not a living person in my physical form.

"This is just the tenth time I've compiled a collection of incomplete volumes."

A gust of wind suddenly came in from the doorway.

It wasn't a big gust; the blow caused the lamp flame to tilt to the left. Sun Wukong took a step forward and pressed his hand down on the door. The wooden door slammed shut.

He turned to look at Chen Fan, his eyes hard.

Stop with the nonsense.

"You can feel pain, you can curse, you can keep accounts, and you even tricked me into becoming a gatekeeper. Whether you're alive or not, Old Sun only cares about the one in front of him."

Xuanzang straightened the lamp again, and his voice became steady.

"The original body is lost; it's all in the past."

"It was you who came here."

Si Mo took a breath and slammed the account book onto the table.

"Then let's thoroughly investigate the old accounts."

"He fixed it nine times, and you won it back on the tenth time."

Chen Fan looked at the three people and suddenly smiled. The smile was faint, like someone who had been tired for a long time and could finally relax.

"become."

"Then let's get to the bottom of it."

He pushed the delete lock to the center of the account and pressed it down with his palm.

"Check the final page of the Hong Kong main page."

The paper suddenly sank.

The blank sheet of paper was torn in the middle with a thin slit. Inside the slit wasn't ink, nor light, but a very old accounting room. A person sat inside, his back to Chen Fan mirroring his, even sharing the same habit of raising his wrist. In front of him were nine tattered accounting books, with an extinguished lamp on top.

Hearing the noise, the person turned around.

The same goes for the face.

He was so thin he was almost unrecognizable, with deep-set eyes and pale lips, as if he had been guarding this pile of old papers for hundreds of years.

"You're here?"

He spoke, his voice hoarse.

Chen Fan stared at him without flinching.

"They're here."

"It's time to collect it."

The man nodded, as if he had been waiting for this sentence.

"I know."

"The first nine times, I was always so close. I almost straightened the thread, almost led the person out of the way. I was so close that I had to rewrite it."

He raised his hand and patted the nine tattered books.

"The more we change it, the more chaotic it becomes."

"After making so many changes, I couldn't even recognize myself anymore."

Sun Wukong took a step forward and asked him in a cold voice.

"You can't tell the difference, so you're using him as an example?"

The man glanced at Sun Wukong but didn't argue.

"Yes."

"I owe him something too."

"I can pass on the tenth time, not because I write, but because I stop."

Chen Fan didn't say anything else, he just picked up the pen and seal and gently placed it on the edge of the seam.

"Then stop."

"The old seal is broken, the two crippled officials have been dismissed, and I've already seen the general ledger. Delete this revised rule of yours."

The man stared at the seal as if it were his last breath. After a moment, he reached out and touched Chen Fan's palm to his.

It's very light.

Like two old pieces of paper touching each other at the edges.

"it is good."

"Flower Fruit Mountain will return to Flower Fruit Mountain. Xuanzang's path will return to Xuanzang. Wukong will no longer be escorted back down the mountain, Bajie will no longer carry the granary for others, the White Dragon Horse will guard the school, the Six-Eared Horse will guard the spring and listen to the wind, and Si Mo will receive the records. I have already drawn a clear line in the battle account of the Bull Demon King and his son. Those who are alive will return to the mountain, and those who are dead will have their tombstones erected. From now on, the general ledger in the heavens will only record the path taken, and will no longer change the names of the people."

He said one sentence, and a book was scattered behind him.

After the nine sentences were spoken, all nine tattered books turned to ashes.

Finally, he looked at Chen Fan.

"As for you."

"You are not me, and you don't need to live for me."

"Stay if you want. Leave if you want. There will be no eleventh round."

Chen Fan's Adam's apple bobbed, and after a long while, he finally hummed in agreement.

The lock was deleted with a click at this moment.

The lock broke in the middle, shattering into two pieces of black iron that fell onto the table. The old accounting box in the crack also went dark. The man remained seated, only raising his hand to straighten the extinguished lamp, just as he had done countless times many years ago.

The next instant, he and the tent were completely gone.

Only the dim lamp remained lit inside the room.

He turned to the last page of the ledger himself, and there were only four words on it.

Old accounts have been settled.

Chen Fan looked at it for a long time before slowly closing the booklet.

This time, no one urged him.

That night, the harbor lights stayed on until dawn. Si Mo took over the port register, guarding the nameplates of all comings and goings, ensuring that not a single blank nameplate slipped into the warehouse. Xuanzang returned to the small temple to the west with Qingdeng. The temple gate was small, the bell rang backwards, and those who came could stay overnight, while those who wanted to leave were not stopped. Zhu Ganglie led several old monkeys to repair the granary and walls, complaining every day about being tired, but when it came to actually doing something, they were faster than anyone else. Bai Longma opened a small school at the foot of the mountain gate, teaching the little monkeys to read. For each mistake, they would tap a wooden plaque, but not too hard. Liu Er sat by the spring, listening to the wind, the sounds outside the mountains, and the laughter of the people in the mountains. Niu Mowang returned to Jilei with Hong Hai'er, and would send two carts of wine during festivals. The old seal was never left behind, and the shell of the two disabled officials turned to ashes after that night, which were swept into the river and scattered.

As for Chen Fan, he didn't leave.

He didn't disperse either.

He stayed in the old warehouse, serving as its last accountant. He checked names during the day and added lamps at night. When someone asked about the owner of the warehouse, he would simply turn over the old wooden plaque by the door and show them the small characters on the back.

This will not be rewritten.

Many years passed, the peach trees bloomed and faded, bloomed again and again. Several groups of children came and went in the mountains, and long ago no one could tell which were monkeys and which were wild boys raised in the harbor. Only the lamp under the eaves of the old warehouse remained lit year after year. Chen Fan still sat on the threshold, a booklet beside him, newly carved wooden plaques piled at his feet. Sun Wukong jumped down from the tree and, as usual, tossed a peach into his arms.

Chen Fan caught it, casually wrote the last stroke at the end of the tent, and blew on the still wet ink.

This time, no more words were added to the paper.

He put down his pen and closed the booklet.

"The test is complete."

Chapter 620 Why Did We Lose the First Nine Times?

The warehouse door was closed, but light was still leaking out through the crack.

It's not a light source.

It was the old ink beneath the ledger pages that was shining, like a fire suppressed underwater, smoldering, neither exploding nor extinguishing.

Sun Wukong stood guard at the door, his staff across his lap, listening intently with his eyes closed.

Zhu Ganglie sat on the steps, sharpening his rake. After sharpening it a couple of times, he would look up at the door.

The white dragon horse did not transform into human form; it lay on the edge of the corridor, its ears twitching.

No one spoke.

It's too quiet inside.

The silence was unsettling.

Deep inside the old warehouse, Chen Fan sat at the wooden table with a broken corner, on which were only three items.

Live account.

Pen and seal.

And that green lamp.

Across from the lamp sat Chen Fan.

The clothes were the same, the eyebrows and eyes were the same, even the old scar on the hand was the same. Only the light emanating from that person was fainter, as if covered by a layer of dampness, ready to dissipate at any moment.

Under the lamp, Chen Fan looked down and flipped through the tattered pages of the general ledger. When he turned to the third page, his fingers stopped.

"The ninth time, and I'll die here too."

He pressed the corner of the page flat and looked up.

"Did you understand?"

Chen Fan didn't rush to reply.

He rearranged the first few loose pages. The ink from the first round had turned gray, the second round had cracked edges, and the third round still had mud from the harbor on it. In the later rounds, the writing became messy, as if the writer had switched hands midway, and the strokes were all different.

He identified the convergence point for each round.

If you look at it for a while, the underlying structure will become clear.

"The first nine times, it wasn't that I wasn't good enough that I lost."

Chen Fan raised his hand and tapped the table three times.

First, save lives.

Second, seize power first.

"Third, first unite with the mountain lord."

Chen Fan remained motionless under the lamp, simply watching him.

Chen Fan pushed the first stack of loose pages over.

"The first one is the most human thing to do. When the shell of Flower Fruit Mountain cracks, the people in the port area are in chaos, and Monkey Heart Stone is pounding, everyone who sees it wants to rescue the people first and support the mountain first. You did this the first four times."

He pointed to an old character.

"The person was rescued. Half of the roster has been completed. However, the operator's seal is still out of reach. The people auditing the accounts can simply change their story and erase everything you've recorded."

"You're busy putting out the fire, but nobody cares who started it."

"In the end, the person was saved for a few days, but the accounting rights were lost. Once the accounting rights were lost, what was saved earlier was taken back in the blink of an eye."

Chen Fan hummed in response under the lamplight.

"Loss of power."

"Yes, saving lives first leads to a loss of power."

Chen Fan then pulled the second stack to the middle.

"The second method is even more ruthless. Knowing that power is important, they simply seize the seal first. From the fifth to the seventh time, you followed this path."

He turned to the next page.

There are still large areas of charred black on the page.

"You were quick these last few times. Before the old seal had even settled, you rushed in and broke its handle. You almost managed to take the seal off the operator."

"But the port area couldn't protect it."

"When the accounts are in disarray, the lights go out, the rosters are scattered, and the outer shell collapses first. When the port area is destroyed, Huaguo Mountain will also die. Even if you get the seal, you'll only have half an empty shell left, unable to write names or set up new accounts."

"This is called seizing power first, which leads to the destruction of Hong Kong."

Chen Fan smiled under the lamp.

The smile was faint.

"The sixth time, I thought I had won."

"I got the seal; my hands were shaking."

"Looking up, it was pitch black outside. Even Old Sun's name almost faded from the page."

After he finished speaking, he closed the page himself.

Chen Fan didn't respond to him, but picked up the third stack.

This stack is the messiest.

The ink overlaps, with many characters pressing down on each other, and in some places it even looks like they were forcibly torn apart and then patched up.

"The third one looks the most stable."

"Let's fill the mountain lord position first."

"First, let Huaguo Mountain recognize its master, and let the heart of the mountain be stabilized."

As Chen Fan finished speaking, he tapped his fingers on the edge of the table.

"You avoided some of the pitfalls in the first two routes. That's why you went the furthest on the eighth and ninth trips."

"But we still lost."

Chen Fan fell silent under the lamp this time.

Chen Fan looked up.

"Losing because of the stunt double."

"Once you replace the mountain lord, the shell will light up, and the operator will immediately switch. It won't confront you head-on; it will find someone who can take over the shell, someone who can fill your position, and have them sit directly in front of the platform."

"By then, you will still be here, the seal will still be on its way, and the mountains will still be shining. But the one holding the pen will no longer be you."

"The accounts are still the same, but the person who wrote them has changed, and everything that was done before has been taken away."

He flipped open those pages, revealing a line of ink inside.

The words are very short.

The operator has been replaced.

Chen Fan stared at those four words for a moment, his Adam's apple bobbing slightly.

"First, the mountain master was involved, which led to the operator being replaced."

Curry remained silent for a long time.

The lamp flame snapped open, sending up a few tiny sparks.

Under the lamp, Chen Fan placed both hands on the table, as if he had finally admitted it.

"Nine times."

"It's always the same three pits, no matter how you look at them."

"Save lives first, lose power. Seize power first, destroy Hong Kong. Replace the mountain lord first, change the pen."

After he finished speaking, he leaned back, his shoulder hitting the old cabinet with a dull thud.

"I used to think that I had made a mistake or said something wrong."

"Looking back now, it wasn't just a coincidence."

"The order is wrong."

Chen Fan nodded.

"It's not that you're incapable, it's that this account forces people to make mistakes."

"It only provides immediate fires. You put out one, and another one starts burning."

He paused for a moment, then turned to look at the lamp.

The lamp's flame flickered steadily.

The firelight shone on the corner of the table and also on the thin crack in the ground.

There was a very faint gold color in the crack.

It's not the ink from the general ledger.

It wasn't the light from a dim lamp.

Like a breath you exhale from a distant place.

Under the lamplight, Chen Fan followed his gaze, and his expression slowly changed.

"You saw it too?"

Chen Fan got up, walked to the edge of the crack, squatted down, and pressed his hand against the ground.

There was a slight vibration under my palm.

Each beat was synchronized with the previous pulsation of the monkey heart stone.

"That's the only difference between the tenth time and the previous nine."

He kept his voice very low.

"The shell of the present-day Flower and Fruit Mountain has revealed its own source."

As soon as he said that, even the lamp flame flickered.

Under the lamp, Chen Fan sat up straight, and a crack finally appeared in the deathly aura in his eyes.

"Isn't it to borrow a light from outside?"

"no."

"Isn't it a reflection of the ledger pages?"

"No, not exactly."

Chen Fan withdrew his hand, his fingertips covered in dust.

"The shell itself emitted light. This shows that the previous attempt to retrieve it wasn't in vain. After the monkey's heart entered its body, it was no longer an empty shell waiting to be lifted up. It can protect itself for a while and hold on by itself for a while."

"This is the tenth opportunity to turn the tide."

Under the lamp, Chen Fan stared at the crack in the ground, remaining silent for a long time.

When he looked up again, his eyes were different.

"Tell me your order."

Chen Fan walked back to the table, closed the three stacks of loose pages, and rearranged them in a line.

"The new sequence has four steps."

"First, drag and return."

He drew a circle on the table with a pen.

"It's not about saving them first, nor is it about not saving them at all. It's about holding back the hands of those above who are auditing the accounts, so that neither the port area nor the old shell can collapse immediately. If we can delay it, we can delay it one night at a time, and we can consolidate it page by page. We need to bring back all the scattered names, broken accounts, and separated ports. We don't need to stabilize them immediately, we just need to prevent people from dying first and the lights from going out first."

"Secondly, appoint a new mountain lord."

"This step cannot be taken too early, nor too late. After delaying it, the shell will shine on its own, and then the mountain lord's contribution can be added. In this way, Huaguo Mountain will recognize its master without relying on external forces, and it will not be so easy for a replacement to be inserted."

"Third, seize the operator's seal."

He pointed heavily at the corner of the third page.

"Once the mountain lord is replaced, the shell is secured, and the port area is still alive, then we can go and seize the seal. Once we have the seal, we won't have to worry about anyone erasing the first two steps."

Fourth, overturn the main tent platform.

"It wasn't a direct hit."

"Once we have the three documents—printed, stored in the mountains, and stored in the harbor—we'll reveal the main table behind the general ledger. We'll see who's in charge of the overall accounting and who's been hiding behind the ledger changing page numbers. Then we'll all be exposed."

After speaking one sentence at a time, Curry fell silent again.

This time, the quiet wasn't as oppressive as before.

Like a group of people holding their breath, finally seeing cracks in the bricks on the road ahead.

Under the lamp, Chen Fan recited these four steps aloud.

"Drag them back, replace the mountain lord, seize the operator's seal, and finally overturn the main altar."

"First, suppress the fire in front of you, then find someone to start it again."

He nodded.

"I can walk."

Chen Fan looked at him.

"It's not that you can walk."

"This is the only way."

Chen Fan suddenly smiled under the lamp.

This time it's more real than before.

"The tenth time, you were greedier than the previous nine times."

"I want them all."

Chen Fan smiled as well.

"After suffering nine losses, you'll eventually learn something."

The two looked at each other for a moment, and suddenly a corner of the third page on the table turned up by itself.

The corner turned very slowly, as if a hand was pushing it from under the paper.

The smile on Chen Fan's face disappeared under the lamplight.

He reached out and pressed the edge of the page, revealing the outline of an old seal beneath his palm.

That's a crippled right.

The third page is written by Canquan.

He stared at the ink mark for a long time, the veins on the back of his hand gradually bulging and then relaxing.

"I didn't give it to anyone the first nine times."

"Even Old Sun has never touched this thing."

"It's not that I don't trust others, it's just that this thing is too much like a hook. Once you hold it, you start to feel like you can actually write accounts for God."

He raised his hand.

The broken line slowly emerged from the paper, like a thin, shiny black piece of iron with cracks along its edges.

Chen Fan did not reach out.

Chen Fan looked at him under the lamp, his voice a little hoarse.

"For the tenth time, I agreed."

"Here you go, the remaining rights on page three."

"I can't be sure how much longer I can sit here. You're more steady than me, and your hands aren't as dirty as mine."

Chen Fan then handed over his hand.

The moment the broken sword fell into his palm, a chill ran up his wrist bone, as if someone had taken a thin needle and made a cut in the bone.

He tightened his grip on the broken piece of power.

"I'll keep it."

Under the lamp, Chen Fan let out a long breath, as if a hard shell had been removed from his body.

Just then, the general ledger on the table suddenly flipped over with a whoosh.

Page 1, Page 2, Page 3.

Three pages in a row.

Finally, it came to a sudden stop at the back.

A piece of paper that had never been opened before was slowly revealed.

Page 4.

The center of the page is blank, but a line of small text has already appeared in the footer.

The tenth reconciliation was completed ahead of schedule.

Almost simultaneously, a muffled thud was heard outside the warehouse.

It was like someone inside the mountain had struck a drum hard.

At the doorway, Sun Wukong opened his eyes, his staff already raised.

In the old warehouse, Chen Fan and Chen Fan under the lamp looked up at the same time.

The lamplight suddenly shot up, making the line of text on the fourth page even clearer.

It's not that they walked too fast.

It's the hand above that can't wait any longer.

Chapter 621 The Lock of Cause and Effect

After the fourth page was revealed, the temperature in the old warehouse dropped.

It's not the wind that's cold.

Like well water that had been suppressed at the bottom of a cabinet for a hundred years, it suddenly surged up and seeped into the bones along the top of the foot.

Sun Wukong entered first, his staff held horizontally on his shoulder, but his eyes didn't scan around; he just stared at the page.

"It urged me on."

Chen Fan hummed in agreement, his hand still resting on the corner of the page.

The paper didn't move.

The blank space at the center of the page seemed to deepen the more you looked at it, as if someone had scraped away all the ink, leaving only a thin layer with a hole underneath.

The "Chen Fan" under the lamp didn't say anything either.

He stood behind the lamp, his shadow trembling slightly at the edges as the firelight shone upon it, as if it might dissipate at any moment.

Xuanzang then entered from outside, his shoes still damp with mud. He walked slowly, first looking at the lamp, then the paper, and finally at Chen Fan's hands.

"Stop pressing it."

Chen Fan looked up.

Xuanzang reached out and lifted his wrist up half an inch.

"This is not a ledger page."

"This is the lock face."

As soon as he finished speaking, two thin lines appeared in the middle of the fourth page.

They crawled outwards, one on the left and one on the right, like living creatures.

The one on the left stopped at the top of the page, slowly forming three characters.

Origin of the cause.

The line on the right, ending at the bottom of the page, also forms three characters.

The fruit falls where it was.

Si Mo stood by the threshold and took a low breath.

"It's really come to this."

Zhu Ganglie frowned and leaned closer. Just as he was about to peek out, a plume of black smoke suddenly rose from the page, burning him so much that he took half a step back.

"Damn it, still shy around strangers."

Xuanzang ignored him and just stared at the two columns.

"The causal lock requires a core person. First, it asks where you came from, then it asks where you are going. If one link is missing, it will fill the gap itself."

When Chen Fan heard the word "supplement," his heart skipped a beat.

He didn't reply.

On the fourth page, the "origin" column lit up first.

Everyone looked over.

Take a breath.

Two breaths.

Half a cup of tea passed, and nothing came out.

It's not vague, it's not hidden.

It is vacuum white.

It's completely white.

It's as if that part of the story never happened.

No one in the old warehouse said a word for a moment.

Even Sun Wukong retracted the end of his staff, his brows furrowing more and more.

"Empty?"

The white dragon horse's voice was deep.

"Can a living person not have a place of origin?"

Xuanzang extended two fingers and gently brushed them along the edge of the page. A grayish-white sheen, like scraps of paper or bone powder, clung to his fingertips. He glanced down at it, his expression changing.

"It's not that there isn't one."

"The source has been erased."

Si Mo almost dropped the workbook in his hand.

"Who dares to smear this?"

Xuanzang flicked the gray light back into the paper.

"The person who can manage the general ledger."

These words silenced the old warehouse even more.

The sound of the spring outside seemed to be drowned out.

Chen Fan stood before the lamp, a slight tingling sensation running down his back. He had always known that his origins were suspicious. When he transmigrated, there was no heavenly lightning, no gods or Buddhas, and no grand spectacle; he simply closed his eyes and opened them to find himself under the Five Finger Mountain. Only after the system was activated did he consider it a stroke of incredible luck.

As things stand, it's not luck.

Someone cut his part out beforehand.

As he was thinking, the column on the right suddenly lit up.

The bottom of the three characters "落处果" is pushed outwards stroke by stroke.

The characters are written very slowly.

It's like someone carving on wet mud with a blunt knife.

The tenth correction.

After those four words appeared, the entire fourth page shook.

The flame of the lamp leaped up rapidly.

The figure of "Chen Fan" under the light swayed, and his shoulder line became blurred.

Sun Wukong grabbed the corner of the table.

"The tenth time?"

"Were the first nine attempts not losses, but corrections?"

Chen Fan stared at those four words, his throat tightening.

Why did we lose the first nine times?

He spent so long going through this line, and in the end, the paper he received wasn't about who won or lost, but simply the phrase "tenth correction."

In other words, every step he and Lao Sun took along the way, his life, was not considered a new beginning in the official accounts.

They are cleaning up an old mess.

Pigsy cursed under his breath.

"Whose fault is it that they're using us to patch up their mess?"

Xuanzang looked at Chen Fan, his voice very calm.

"I was half wrong before."

"You weren't chosen by anyone."

"You were brought in to fill a position."

Chen Fan looked up.

Xuanzang pointed to the blank space in the "originating cause" column, and then to the "falling fruit" column.

"The source has been erased. This means the original position should not have been empty."

"Write a correction where it falls. This indicates that this position has been missed nine times."

"The higher-ups didn't want to elect you."

"The people who used to stand here are gone, or they're no longer useful. We can't let the debts run dry, so we have to find someone who can fit in and fill the gap."

That's not a strong statement.

It sounded heavy when it entered my ears.

Chen Fan didn't move for a long time.

He suddenly remembered when he first arrived at Wuzhi Mountain. The mountain wind was cold, the ground was hard, and there wasn't even anyone to talk to. Back then, he complained and cursed, but later he didn't even bother to curse anymore, and just delivered fruit to the monkeys according to the appointed days.

He always thought he was just unlucky.

It turned out not to be.

It turned out that someone had simply placed a vacancy directly on his head.

Sun Wukong turned his head and glanced at him.

"Whether it's filling in or covering for someone else."

"You survive on your own."

That's a very strong statement.

After hearing this, Chen Fan felt a little more relaxed.

Xuanzang hasn't stopped yet.

"Those who fill in for their teammates won't come in empty-handed."

"Now that the lock is open, it's time to spit out the shell."

As soon as he finished speaking, the blank space in the middle of the fourth page shrunk inward by an inch.

It's like a leaking well.

Then, a click came from inside.

It's very light.

It's very crispy.

It doesn't resemble wood or stone; it's more like two pieces of old iron stuck together, the kind of iron you'd pry apart.

A corner peeks out from the black hole first.

Thin, flat, with serrated edges.

The moment Chen Fan saw that thing, his temple throbbed violently.

That thing looks like an old chip.

It was just darker, the surface was worn black, and there was a thin crack in the middle with traces of dark gold patterns inside.

It fell onto the page with a thud.

The fourth page immediately fell silent.

Even the fire seemed to have shrunk.

Chen Fan reached out to take it, and the moment his fingertips touched it, the long-dormant system mark on his palm suddenly burned.

It's not a fever.

Like a tenon that hasn't been closed for years, finally meeting its original nail.

Click.

The invisible shell in my palm aligned itself.

Chen Fan gasped, his vision blurred and then suddenly filled with a cacophony of noise.

There was a mechanical, clunking sound.

There was the sound of pages turning.

Someone was shouting from a great distance.

"Failed to close the gates—"

"Error correction module detached—"

"The pen-holding position is vacant—"

"General ledger transferred to accident zero for storage—"

The sound was intermittent and fragmented.

Like copper pieces buried in the ground, being dug out one shovel at a time.

Chen Fan swayed, and Sun Wukong raised his hand to support his shoulder.

"What did you see?"

Chen Fan did not answer immediately.

He stared at the black mark on his palm, his forehead covered in cold sweat. After the thing touched his hand, the thin slit on its surface slowly opened, revealing a row of tiny words.

It wasn't written down.

It's like it was already engraved inside, and it's only now that it's showing.

Error correction module source: Zeroth site closure incident.

There's another line below.

Information about the original author is missing.

The substitute position has been used nine times.

This is the tenth time.

Si Mo was close enough to see clearly, and his face turned pale instantly.

"The zeroth time?"

"Wasn't there only nine times upfront?"

Xuanzang stared at the line of small characters and slowly shook his head.

"Nine times, the nine times you saw it."

"The zeroth time was the first time something went wrong. The site wasn't sealed off, and the accounts weren't properly settled, which is why it kept leaking."

The white dragon horse's Adam's apple bobbed.

"Where is the original author?"

No one could answer it.

The line "Information Missing" on the black mark looked like a festering scar, stubbornly lying there.

Chen Fan clenched the black seal in his palm and spoke after a long while.

"So the system wasn't given to me as a gift."

"It's the shell that was scattered last time."

Xuanzang nodded.

"right."

What you received was not a reward, but a recyclable item.

Pigsy's teeth ached from listening to this.

"So, you're saying we've been carrying a piece of junk from an accident all this way?"

The moment the word "scrap" was written, a thin beam of light suddenly shot up from the black ink, as if its tail had been stepped on, and shot straight to the fourth page.

The light pierced the blank space at the bottom of the page, and a very faint mark slowly emerged underneath.

It's not a character.

It looks like half a handprint.

Only the base of the palm and two fingers are printed.

The rest of the place was completely shattered.

Xuanzang squinted and stared for a long time before whispering, "This is the original location."

"The person is gone, but the mark remains."

Chen Fan felt a tightness in his chest.

The half-fingerprint looked unfamiliar, yet it sent a chill down his spine. It was as if, long ago, he had faced it through something.

It's not a memory.

It's more like an echo left in the cracks of your bones.

On the fourth page, words started seeping out again.

This time, there aren't many words.

One sentence, then a pause.

Lost in its original place.

Nine losses in the replacement position.

The tenth time, the lock was opened to verify the cause.

After verification, you are allowed to enter the lower level.

As the last four words fell, the muffled drumbeat outside the old warehouse sounded again.

thump—

The entire mountain trembled.

A crack appeared in the floor tiles behind the door, and the crack crawled from the door all the way to the foot of the table, stopping right in front of Chen Fan's feet.

There was light in the crack, but it wasn't bright, like a tiny ember floating in a deep well.

Sun Wukong held his staff horizontally and stood in front of the crevice.

"The lower door is open."

Xuanzang bent down and picked up the half-piece of paper dust that had fallen from the page. He rubbed it and found that there were even some gold dust in the dust.

"This lock wasn't put on just today."

"Someone knew in advance that someone would come to inspect it."

Chen Fan tightened his grip and tucked the black mark into his sleeve.

It's still hot.

The thing seemed alive, pressing against his wrist bone, gently bumping him again and again.

The impact wasn't fast.

It was almost the same tune as the knocking sound from inside the mountain earlier.

He stared at the crack at his feet for a long time, then suddenly smiled.

The smile was faint, and there was little sense of ease.

"OK."

"Don't rush to mourn how you fell the first nine times."

"I've already given up the shell, and I've accepted the lock."

"As the replacement, I have to go down and see what kind of mess the other person has made of the stadium."

Sun Wukong twisted his neck and lightly tapped the ground with his staff.

"I like hearing that."

Xuanzang closed the fourth page, leaving only the crack where light shone.

"After we go down there, we'll first find the site of the zeroth closure."

"There is a cause there."

"And why did you end up at the foot of Wuzhi Mountain?"

Chen Fan didn't ask any more questions.

Some accounts, once you get to this point, are pointless to ask.

You'll have to go down and see for yourself.

He lifted his foot and stepped onto the edge of the crack. The ashes from the crack leaped up, illuminating a corner of the black mark peeking out from his sleeve. The old patterns on that corner were now fully lit, as if someone inside was slowly turning a key that hadn't been used for many years.

No one spoke in the old warehouse anymore.

Only the green lamp flickered twice.

The flames were brought down and stabilized.