The sputtering roar of the motorcycle’s engine was weak, and the black smoke coughed from the dilapidated tailpipe vanished instantly into the misty rain. San Zai’s bike was an old wreck that had likely tipped over countless times, which was the only reason it had been transferred to him for such a low three-figure price. The narrow coastal road at this moment was impossibly muddy. Fang Senyan, gritting his teeth against the violent jolts and pain, twisted the throttle wide open, gripping the handlebars fiercely, trying to crouch as low as possible. Listening to the incessant creaking sounds emanating from the vintage motorcycle, a worry started to form in his heart: what if this machine disintegrated into a pile of parts the very next second?

Hearing the faint shouts cutting through the rain and fog from behind, a sarcastic sneer touched the corner of Fang Senyan’s mouth. Even Hua Shan Fei, no matter how slow-witted, should have realized the grim news of Xi Di being finished by now. He must be running around like an ant on a hot pan, his situation surely not much better than Fang Senyan’s own. At worst, Fang Senyan would just die; after all, Big Fourth Uncle and San Zai had already fled, whereas Hua Shan Fei still had elders above and the young below. Once the savage and violent Hei Gui Dong learned of his son’s demise, he would certainly need an outlet for his rage, placing Hua Shan Fei and his family in equally precarious positions.

There were quite a few pursuers behind, yet Fang Senyan understood the principle of “haste makes waste.” Those chasing him were running purely on adrenaline; given enough time, their endurance would naturally fail. After a full ten minutes of agonizing bumps, the end of the muddy track was less than ten meters ahead—the smooth concrete road was tantalizingly close. Fang Senyan let out a long breath, a smile touching his lips. Once they hit the cement road, the thugs chasing on bicycles and on foot wouldn't be able to catch him, even if they died trying. This motorcycle, however decrepit, could at least outrun a person.

But just then, the engine of this N-hand relic sputtered a few times like an old man choking, and then the thud-thud-thud of the engine sound abruptly ceased without warning. Fang Senyan’s eyes snapped wide open, clearly finding such a dramatic conclusion unbelievable. Yet, it was reality. As Fang Senyan’s sudden joy plummeted into stunned disbelief, the pursuers behind, who had already lost hope, erupted in a delirious euphoria, shouting and rushing forward.

Fang Senyan felt no regret, or rather, he had no time for it. He tossed the motorcycle aside and bolted forward with long strides. To give the pursuers behind some pause, he kept the Type 54 pistol, now empty of bullets, clenched in his hand.

By the time the few thugs struggling to pedal their bicycles caught up, Fang Senyan was already staggering a hundred meters down National Highway 703’s concrete road, clutching his stomach. Blood dripped steadily between his fingers, forming a distinct crimson line wherever he passed. His destination was a rather large construction site nearby.

That site was building a processing plant; both the office building and the production workshops were already half-completed. The exterior wall work had likely been halted due to the typhoon. The terrain there was complex, making it easy to evade pursuit, and more importantly, it offered Fang Senyan a good chance of finding a replacement bicycle or motorcycle. Thus, it naturally became his primary target.

As Fang Senyan painfully vaulted over the perimeter wall, enduring the sharp agony, three thugs frantically pedaling their bikes had already reached the base of the wall. They clearly saw the bright red bloodstains left on the wall and immediately burst into excited curses, evidently feeling that the fifty thousand bounty for Hua Shan Fei was as good as theirs. Fang Senyan held his abdomen, staggering as he leaned against the wall, and ducked into a building undergoing renovation. Though cornered, Fang Senyan’s gaze remained determined and fierce. After a moment’s thought, he tossed the empty Type 54 pistol onto the ground and fled upstairs.

Not long after, the three thugs working for Hua Shan Fei chased in like hungry dogs. They quickly spotted the discarded pistol on the floor and, overjoyed, became even more reckless, furiously pursuing him upward. However, they hesitated at the second floor because a long corridor stretched out from the stairwell entrance, housing at least twenty to thirty offices. They couldn’t determine which floor Fang Senyan had reached. If the three of them searched the rooms on the second floor together, the stairwell would be left unmonitored, and if Fang Senyan was hiding on the third floor, he might find a gap to escape via the stairs. Therefore, the safest and surest method was to assign one person to guard the stairwell entrance while the other two systematically searched room by room, floor by floor—that way, nothing could go wrong.

The crux of the problem was deciding who would stay behind to guard the stairwell!

Originally, this should have been an easy and secure job, but one must not forget that Hua Shan Fei had placed a hefty bounty of fifty thousand on Fang Senyan! And this man was not only severely injured but had also lost his only means of self-defense, the pistol. Under these circumstances, spotting Fang Senyan felt almost as easy as picking up fifty thousand off the ground! In this situation, who would willingly stay behind and miss out on such a massive reward?

The three thugs exchanged glances. They were only a step ahead because they had luckily grabbed the bicycles; if they delayed further, the others chasing them with pumping arms would surely catch up. If they hesitated any longer, forget about getting the meat—they wouldn't even taste a drop of the soup! So, the three exchanged a look and immediately shouted out:

“Hong Zhong, you take the fourth floor. I’ll take the third. Bing Zai, you take the second! Are we afraid of any of them, even in a one-on-one? Do you think we can’t handle a half-dead punk like this? Let luck decide. Seven or eight brothers are catching up from behind; do you think he can slip past all of us?”

Thus, the three thugs naturally split up. As for Fang Senyan, deliberately abandoning his pistol to feign weakness was a setup for this very moment—to make these three avarice-blinded thugs separate, thereby giving him a chance to escape!

And the place where Fang Senyan was hiding was precisely on the fourth floor, the floor that “Hong Zhong” was about to ascend!

This guy, nicknamed Hong Zhong, was a notorious gambler. His strengths were his audacity and fighting prowess, and he earned his name from always wearing a tight-fitting red vest. Among the three, he was the one most greedy for the fifty thousand bounty, so he rushed straight up to the fourth floor. Little did he know that as soon as he reached the fourth floor, he saw scattered droplets of blood ahead, like trail markers, leading into a room down the left corridor. Hong Zhong immediately gave chase like a horny dog!

This room had clearly not been plastered yet; the surrounding walls revealed rough red brick, and the floor was rough, compacted earth. A few unsightly electrical wires stuck out overhead. The air carried a faint smell of mortar. The balcony at the far end of the room had no railings installed yet, allowing glimpses of scattered safety netting fluttering in the wind.

Hong Zhong looked up suspiciously, as the scattered blood spots continued all the way to the balcony at the far end of the room. Since the safety railings hadn't been installed yet, and the left side of the balcony was blocked by an unfinished, un-tiled wall, he couldn't see the entire scene on the balcony. It looked as if Fang Senyan had fled here, realizing escape was impossible, and jumped off the upper floor. But a sarcastic gleam flickered in Hong Zhong’s eyes; he was certain Fang Senyan would never commit suicide, but was most likely hiding on the balcony, fighting like a cornered beast!

So Hong Zhong walked slowly over, pausing briefly before the doorway leading to the balcony, then suddenly roared, swinging the steel pipe he held hard toward the left. But instantly, a chill ran down his spine because the pipe struck empty air with a clang, hitting the wall and sending a painful jolt up his arm. The only thing his vision registered was a single shoe; the black opening of the shoe looked like a mouth mocking him, instantly plunging him into an ice cellar.

At that moment, Fang Senyan dropped down from behind Hong Zhong, his face pale and clutching his stomach, his eyes holding three parts mockery and three parts sarcasm. As he dropped, he swung his right foot and kicked hard into Hong Zhong’s backside! And this was the balcony, the fourth-floor balcony without proper railings!

An ear-splitting scream tore through the air, then abruptly ceased. Though Hong Zhong was built like an ox, falling from that height meant he was crippled, if not dead. Fang Senyan had set up the first illusion with bloodstains, and then used perspective to set up the second confusion.

He himself jumped up, biting back a groan, grabbed the electrical wires and rebar left protruding above the balcony, performed a pull-up, and braced his feet against the adjacent wall, holding himself up with sheer effort. His entire body was pressed flat against the top section of the balcony’s left side. If Hong Zhong, blinded by greed, could have seen through his scheme in this situation, Fang Senyan would have had nothing more to say.

Silence reigned all around. Unquestionably, the two men searching downstairs, upon hearing the scream, would instinctively stick their heads out to check, and then rush up the stairs to the fourth floor. Based on habitual human psychology, in such a hurried state, they wouldn't consider too many possibilities. Once they reached the stairwell entrance and saw the clear clue of bloodstains in the fourth-floor corridor, they would certainly follow the direction indicated by the blood to the left. This meant their attention would be entirely focused on the blood and the direction it pointed. Fang Senyan only needed to quickly hide in the right corridor, opposite the direction the blood pointed, to cleverly slip through this time gap and escape downstairs!

Logically, this plan had a high chance of success, especially after Fang Senyan had successfully evaded the two charging thugs. But accidents always happen when one least expects them: this building was, after all, only half-finished. There were no handrails on the stairs. Fang Senyan was already severely weakened from blood loss, coupled with tension, so as he staggered down the stairs, his foot caught on a floor tile left nearby. He lost his footing and tumbled downward. The tile clattered down the stairs, smashing into pieces with a crack! By the time a dizzy Fang Senyan shook his head and painfully struggled to his feet, the two thugs who had regained their senses were already cursing and pursuing him, less than ten meters away.

“Damn it…” Fang Senyan choked down a mouthful of bloody saliva, grinding his teeth. But he was a man of tenacious character; he would never give up until the very last moment. Gritting his teeth, he clutched his abdominal wound and staggered away. The world was swimming with golden spots before his eyes. Without thinking, he ran desperately forward, seeing only the unfinished steps before him. The two thugs certainly wouldn't relent, chasing and cursing furiously, maintaining a distance of only one floor separation from Fang Senyan.

The newly laid concrete steps, still mottled enough to reveal the raw red bricks beneath, looked to Fang Senyan like the steps of a cemetery trampled for a hundred years by passing ghosts. The massive blood loss made his vision intermittently black out. What sustained him in his run was that stubborn will to never surrender, seemingly etched deep into his very marrow! But cruelly, the sound of the pursuing footsteps and curses was undeniably drawing nearer.

“I won’t be caught, I won’t die here!” Fang Senyan screamed internally. Whether due to overexertion or not, he felt a point in the center of his chest heating up rapidly. If he hadn't been in a desperate flight, he truly would have unbuttoned his shirt to examine it.

Suddenly, as he descended, Fang Senyan’s entire body seemed to pause for a moment—a sensation utterly bizarre, like leaping from a three-meter diving board into a pool, only to find a transparent, resilient membrane blocking the pool bottom. Yet Fang Senyan clearly saw nothing in front of him, but the sensory recognition of “breaking through something” was distinct. However, this momentary pause was all it took for the two thugs, their eyes already red with greed, to charge forward wildly! One grabbed Fang Senyan’s shoulder, and the other gripped his waist! The three of them tumbled downward in a tangled heap.

Another dizzying tumble ensued, accompanied by the sharp pain of impacts! During the fall, Fang Senyan’s brow was broken, blood streaming down his face, but even then he hadn't given up. His gaze was burning and frantic. He twisted, drawing the knife he carried, his lifelong belief being never to give up! Even if he died today, he would drag someone down with him!

To live fully is to have no regrets in death!

But Fang Senyan suddenly felt something was terribly wrong.

Because everything around him was too quiet. There was no gasping, no angry shouting, and the expected brutal beating had failed to materialize! Only the tight sensation of being firmly held at his shoulder and waist remained the same! He turned his head and was instantly petrified.

The two thugs were frozen stiff in the pose of gripping his shoulder and waist, as if an invisible layer of ice had suddenly materialized in mid-air and flash-frozen them! Their expressions of greedy ecstasy were perfectly preserved. As Fang Senyan struggled to break free, a searing, burning pain erupted in his chest! He couldn't help but let out a muffled groan, pressing his hand tightly onto the painful spot, trying to ease the indescribable sensation. Fortunately, the pain came quickly and faded just as fast. When Fang Senyan took his hand away, he unconsciously looked down and found, to his shock, a blazing crimson tattoo had appeared on his chest!

Senyan could barely believe his eyes. He immediately tore off his already tattered shirt. On the clear outline of his muscles, the blood-red tattoo was etched with simple, sharp lines, forming a symbol whose meaning was completely obscure—startlingly clear, its shape mysterious and bizarre. Fang Senyan had experienced too much that night, but this situation was too inexplicable.

A chill shot up Fang Senyan’s spine. He spun around in horror and found that where the staircase should have been behind him was now completely enveloped by absolute darkness. He reached out to touch it, finding what felt like an invisible wall barrier there. He took a deep breath, looked upward, and realized that the staircase to the floor below had ended, completely submerged beneath a swirling mass of black cloud. The cloud churned ceaselessly, seemingly thousands upon thousands of feet high, faintly showing deep crimson hues that possessed a soul-stirring, captivating allure.

At this moment, the tattoo on his chest flared brilliantly, bathing Fang Senyan’s body in its light. Immediately, the faces of the two thugs behind him began to change with incredible speed, aging rapidly. The strong young men in their twenties had their hair instantly turn white, their teeth fall out, progressing to old age, and then their flesh seemed to erode like dust blown away by the wind, leaving only skeletal remains, which finally turned to ash and were completely blown away!

What kind of magic could instantly annihilate flesh and blood, and reduce bone to dust in a moment? Only time, only time!

Had this brief instant already seen the passage of a thousand years? And what miraculous nature did the layer of red light surrounding Fang Senyan possess, allowing him to remain unharmed before the power of time?

The black cloud before him continued to churn madly, like a revelry that had neither begun nor would ever end, punctuated by terrifying crimson lightning flashes. Fang Senyan didn't know why, but a sudden surge of fervor boiled in his blood, as if something was overturning and surging within his soul, tied irrevocably to his fate.

He ripped off his ragged upper garment. The strange, ferocious crimson tattoo on his chest shone brightly, forming an invisible shield around his body. Fang Senyan couldn’t help but clench his fists and let out a long, piercing yell to the heavens.

That cry echoed in all directions, reverberating outwards. The black cloud before him writhed violently, then scattered, revealing a massive archway that seemed to stretch between heaven and earth. The archway possessed a metallic texture, the color of flesh and blood, and was covered with countless sharp, protruding fangs!

Just then, a mysterious voice sounded again near Fang Senyan’s ear:

“This is the Nightmare Space! A magical and mysterious place!”

“This place can satisfy any desire in your heart, provided you complete enough missions and earn enough merit within the Space!”

“If you regret it or are afraid, then turn back and leave. If you wish to resolve the obsession in your heart, then step before the gate!”

“Regret? Afraid?” Fang Senyan’s dark, sharp eyebrows lifted, and he laughed dismissively, stepping without hesitation down the stairs toward the colossal gate. For some inexplicable reason, he felt an indescribable sense of satisfaction, as if every cell in his body vibrated with excitement and ecstasy. However, as he approached, he noticed that the gigantic gate was covered with raised textures—some resembling massively swollen blood vessels, others like engraved patterns. From a distance, it looked metallic; up close, it possessed the characteristics of flesh and blood.

Suddenly, Fang Senyan felt a violent stinging pain from the center of his chest, and a massive, irresistible suction pulled him forward. Then, his entire body began to gradually lose consciousness…

“Host physical condition: Spleen partially ruptured, severe blood loss, 7 areas of contusion/impact trauma on the surface, approximately 40% of optimal normal state. Repairing… Repair complete.”

“Total samples collected: 6,399 people. All Contractors have been sampled. Next sampling time will be in seventy-two hours! Nightmare World… Initiated!” ................ This chapter is 5500 words! Ah Tu delivered as usual, right? I promised four updates today and I will definitely deliver four. One update at 10 o'clock, and another for the ranking push at 12 o’clock! Please keep supporting me! Recommendations and collections cannot be lacking; let's fight side by side again! (To be continued, please visit: for the latest chapters.)