# 501
**Chapter 501 – The Hypocrite**
“Hm?”
The sudden burst of brilliant light instantly drew everyone’s attention.
Shen Qingzhu and the Ninth Seat, who had been locked in battle moments ago, had vanished without a trace—along with the shattered altar that had stood in the center of the underground space.
This abrupt change made Lin Qiye frown. He didn’t know exactly what had happened, but it couldn’t be good. That strange, dazzling light had dragged Shen Qingzhu—who had been on the verge of escaping danger—back into the fray.
Meanwhile, the Third Seat’s lips curled into a cold smile the moment he saw the light.
“Lord Yiyu has returned… None of you are leaving here today.”
He raised his arm, and behind him, the remaining two black flowers within the four vortexes bloomed rapidly.
Two more figures emerged from the ink-black shells, overlapping with the original woman’s shadow.
*Bzzzt—!*
A low hum echoed through the estate, followed by a grating, teeth-chilling screech. Countless steel bars and assorted metal objects burst through the thick walls, spiraling into the sky like a swirling black cloud.
At the same time, the once-clear sky darkened rapidly. A black ripple centered on the Third Seat swept across the entire estate in the blink of an eye.
Small stones began to float.
Glass, rocks, and even puddles in the corners of the yard rippled unnaturally, defying gravity as they flowed upward into the sky.
Floor tiles, sofas, cars—even the estate’s spires broke free from the walls and drifted slowly into the air.
A sense of weightlessness engulfed everyone.
Lin Qiye’s body began to rise uncontrollably. Gravity seemed to have been erased entirely, leaving him suspended in the air with no way to anchor himself.
“Metal manipulation and gravity control?” An Qingyu frowned slightly.
In the sky, lightning crackled around the Third Seat. His left hand, glowing with a gray light, controlled all metal within the range of his Forbidden Ruins, while his right hand, shrouded in black, manipulated gravity. The very laws of the estate seemed to bend to his will.
“So this is ‘Klein’…” Lin Qiye’s eyes turned grave.
“He won’t be able to maintain this state for long,” An Qingyu said, adjusting his glasses as he stared at the figure. “His body was already heavily injured. Forcing himself to use so many Forbidden Ruins like this is bound to damage his core.”
“Why is he doing this?”
“Ever since Yiyu took Shen Qingzhu and the altar, he’s been unleashing power recklessly, like he’s gone mad. If I had to guess, he’s stalling for time—buying Yiyu a window.”
“Stalling…” Lin Qiye glanced at the spot where Shen Qingzhu had stood. “What are they planning?”
…
**Nightmare Space.**
Shen Qingzhu struggled to his feet, shaking his head to clear the dizziness.
“Xiao Shen, are you awake?” The Ninth Seat approached, frowning.
Shen Qingzhu glanced at him, then at Yiyu not far away, and nodded silently.
“Yeah. I’m out of that state.”
The Ninth Seat’s punch had left him dazed, but it hadn’t stopped him from assessing the situation. With Yiyu present, pretending wouldn’t be enough to fool anyone.
He rubbed his temples and looked around.
They were still in the underground space. The altar remained in its original spot, the massive sword scar overhead unchanged. The only difference was that Lin Qiye, the others, and the Third Seat were gone.
“Where are we?” he asked in confusion.
“This is the nightmare space I created,” Yiyu’s weak voice came from the altar. “I used my Forbidden Ruins to pull you and the altar into a nightmare. It looks the same as the outside world, but we’re now in a different space.”
“A dream?”
“A dream, and yet not.” Yiyu slowly rose from the altar. With a flick of his right hand, his bloodstained and tattered tailcoat vanished, replaced by a pristine new one.
“Everything that happens here affects the real world. This… is a true nightmare.”
“Then why didn’t the Third Seat come in?” the Ninth Seat asked.
“We need someone to buy time.”
“Buy time?” Shen Qingzhu caught the key phrase. “What are we doing?”
Yiyu’s pale lips curled into a faint smile. He pointed to the altar beneath his feet.
“Naturally, we’re reviving this altar and summoning the God of the Underworld.”
*Summoning the God of the Underworld…*
A sharp glint flashed in Shen Qingzhu’s eyes.
“But the altar hasn’t been fully charged with mental energy. We still need at least two days,” the Ninth Seat said gravely. “And without the Third, Seventh, and Twelfth Seats, it might take even longer. Do we have that kind of time?”
“No,” Yiyu said calmly. “But we have another way.”
“Ninth Seat, come up here.”
At Yiyu’s call, the Ninth Seat’s eyes showed confusion, but under the soul contract’s influence, he stepped forward and leapt onto the altar.
“Lord Yiyu, how may I serve?” he bowed slightly.
Yiyu stared at him for a long moment before speaking slowly.
“Ninth Seat… no, He Lin. How many years have you followed me?”
“Eleven years, Lord Yiyu.”
“Eleven years.” Yiyu’s eyes softened with emotion. “I still remember the first time I saw you. You were a frustrated young man, gifted with great power, yet wasting away in this filthy society…”
“Yes, Lord Yiyu.” The Ninth Seat’s gaze turned distant. “If I hadn’t met you, I might’ve starved to death on the streets.”
“I remember you loved reading *Water Margin*.”
“You have a good memory.”
“Heh. Because you told me I was your Song Jiang.”
“Yes. In my heart, you’ve always been Song Jiang.”
“Then…” Yiyu’s smile slowly faded. “Would you, like the heroes of Liangshan, die for your Song Jiang?”
The Ninth Seat froze.
“Lord Yiyu…”
“He Lin.” Yiyu’s voice was calm. “This altar is missing exactly the amount of mental energy equivalent to a ‘Boundless’ realm. If you die, it will be activated.
For the Believers. For me…
Die.”
The Ninth Seat stared into Yiyu’s eyes for a long time, then let out a long sigh.
“Lord Yiyu.”
“Hm? Any last words?”
“You really haven’t changed at all.”
“Oh? How so?”
“You’re just like you were eleven years ago… You still don’t like reading.”
This bizarre remark left Yiyu baffled.
“Song Jiang was never a hero. He was just a hypocrite…
And so are you.”
The Ninth Seat’s hand shot out, gripping Yiyu’s throat in a flash!
A smile tugged at his lips.
“Sorry, my dear Song Jiang…
I’m a mole.”