Volume Two: The Thousand-Faced Youth, Where Truth and Falsehood Intertwine Chapter Eighty-Four: The Nightmare Eye Technique

"President, this little Reaper is too strong. What should we do?" asked the vice president, who had joined the race with Jin Puxian.

Jin Puxian let out a cold laugh. "Strong? I don't see it. That's hardly some advanced psychic technique. While there are abilities that can simulate a rain of bullets, his is just a burst of psychic bullets. It takes a huge toll on stamina and power. Even if his reserves are deep, he must have used up half his energy already."

The vice president was unconvinced. Firing bullets in rapid succession might not be a sophisticated technique—any psychic could pull the trigger dozens or hundreds of times a second. But still, pulling the trigger is one thing; channeling and compressing psychic energy at that speed requires an incredibly delicate touch, as if you could catch a dewdrop as it fell from a blade of grass and make it dance upon your fingertip.

It was hard to imagine that someone with Huo Ye’s explosively aggressive style could possess such finesse.

"The Little Reaper just unleashed a sweeping attack and instantly eliminated several competitors. By the rules, their points now go to Huo Ye, their eliminator. Currently, the Starchasers' stunt score is 679.5. At this rate, it seems inevitable that the Starchasers will take first place," Lu Fei narrated reluctantly, his tone stripped of the usual enthusiasm.

Huo Ye had dealt with most of the field. With the weeds cleared away, he could distinctly feel Jin Puxian’s gaze upon him—a gaze that was... strange.

The instant their eyes met, Huo Ye sensed something was wrong. In that moment, the world seemed to shift. Huo Ye’s instincts screamed danger, and he hurried to remount his bike, but Jin Puxian accelerated, pulling alongside. He spoke, coldly: "Your points, I’ll be taking them. This race—our victory."

As soon as the words fell, Huo Ye felt the world spinning. His vision twisted, lines bending, colors running together, the world turning into an abstract painting. His head swam with dizziness.

A psychic technique! Of course—it was an illusion. Huo Ye knew it well; the data Jiang Feng had given him made it clear that Jin Puxian, president of Truth Seekers, was renowned for his illusionary powers. He had let his guard down.

With the psychic technique in effect, Jin Puxian seized his chance. He ripped the scoreboard from Huo Ye’s arm and strode off.

"A dramatic turnaround!" Lu Fei howled. Those three words sent blood rushing through his veins, his entire face flushed with excitement. Finally! Watching Huo Ye blaze through the race, overtaking one after another, wiping out opponents with AOE attacks—he was almost sick of praising Huo Ye. But now, Jin Puxian had delivered!

Lu Fei continued, his voice nearly splattering with spit. "We all thought the championship was in the Starchasers’ pocket, but Huo Ye grew careless and, caught by a psychic technique, lost his scoreboard. He’s yet to break free from Jin Puxian’s ‘Nightmare Eye.’ We know it’s no trivial thing to escape that illusion, and the race is almost over. Despite his stellar performance, Huo Ye might have only paved the way for someone else’s victory. Even if Shangguan Yudie crosses the finish line first, their team will only claim a thousand points for speed."

In the stands, the Starchasers’ members were wringing their hands. Lu Fei’s glee was insufferable, but he spoke the truth: would Huo Ye break free in time and reclaim his scoreboard?

---

"Damn! Damn! The boss slipped up!" Jiang Feng shouted.

"Stop yelling, can’t you be quiet when people are sleeping?" a drowsy Liuli Kazama grumbled, tapping Jiang Feng’s head with her parasol handle—more a gesture of annoyance than any real force.

"No, look at the boss—"

"Relax," Alice interrupted, utterly certain. "My brother doesn’t give up that easily. He’s in top form tonight—a little psychic trick won’t bring him down."

"She’s right!" Relimi chimed in. "The boss has plenty of cards up his sleeve. We’ve only seen the tip of the iceberg."

"Do you people realize how serious this is? I put a huge bet on the boss winning! If he loses, I’ll be wiped out!"

"How much did you bet?" Alice asked.

"Twenty thousand points—that’s more than half my semester’s earnings!" Jiang Feng wailed.

Alice only smiled slyly. "Is that so? Then you stand to make a fortune. Just remember to donate some to the club when you win."

---

The race was streaming live on the academy’s website. At that moment, Feng Wuming watched from his crystal-brain, sighing, "Brother Huo, you got careless. Still... I have a feeling you’re full of surprises." He smiled, light and serene.

Huoxia Lan, face mask on and nails being filed, watched while commenting to herself, "Do your best—don’t let the Huo family down."

In the darkness, Tan Xiao stared at the only bright screen, the flicker of the virtual display reflected on his face, which remained expressionless. He said nothing, simply watching.

---

Ke Zhen waited in the casino for Huo Ye’s result. The big screen replayed the moment Huo Ye lost his scoreboard, and a shout rang out, "New bets, new odds! Will Huo Ye reclaim his scoreboard?"

Ke Zhen strode forward, pushing through the crowd, retrieved a thick stack of bills from the deposit box, and slapped them straight onto the table. "I’m betting he will—fifty thousand Sola!"

"Going that big? Man, you’re loaded!" someone nearby gave Ke Zhen a thumbs-up.

"Hmph, this is what it means to stake everything on a single throw. Today, I’m betting my entire fortune!"

"Bold move! Real man! But are you sure? Once the bet’s down, there’s no taking it back. The Little Reaper’s in a tight spot."

The odds said it all: for Huo Ye to reclaim his scoreboard, the payout was one to a hundred—an absurdly high number, proof that the house saw almost no chance. The odds for Huo Ye reaching two thousand points weren’t nearly as high. Clearly, the bookies saw Huo Ye’s comeback as nearly impossible.

Ke Zhen only sneered in silence. These ordinary people couldn’t possibly understand the terror that boy inspired. There was an innate nobility in his demeanor, but beneath it ran the same steely resolve and thirst for vengeance as the nineteen-year-old Eddie. Such father and son—no one here could fathom their will.

Huo Ye’s motorcycle was still on autopilot, his hands gripping the bars, his gaze vacant.

At that moment, his eyes saw neither track nor bike nor rivals—only boundless darkness.

"I’m not riding anymore. I’ve been caught in an illusion. But how do I break free?" Huo Ye was sure his consciousness was trapped in a dreamscape. Any action here likely wouldn’t affect his body outside.

"So, what should I do?"