Skinwalker Belle – Chapter 441 – Do a Pole Dance

(Thank you to the readers for the gifts, 50 triggers plus one extra chapter)

After the life force of the five Dragon Clan members was drained, five withered corpses plummeted from the sky.

They crashed onto the lawn in front of the Black Palace, bounced twice, and fell silent.

Lin Fan shook her hand, flicking away the residual emerald light threads from her fingertips.

With Mental Strength, she sliced open their heads and collected the five Level 7 Crystals.

Then, her gaze drifted back slowly, landing on the figure shrinking into the shadows at the base of the Black Palace’s side wall.

Wang Shan.

Beside him lay Chuan Jinmao’s corpse, apparently killed instantly by the shockwave when Zero was fighting earlier.

That old bastard Wang Shan was tucked behind the frame of the blast-proof steel door, half his body hidden in shadow, his right hand tucked into his sleeve, fingers rubbing a perfectly round object.

Lin Fan could see it clearly.

Under the Omniscient Domain, she could even count the grain patterns on the jade walnut in Wang Shan’s right palm.

It was from the same set as the pair from Kunlun Mountain—same material, same Spatial Fluctuation frequency.

Last time, there were two.

This time, only one remained.

“Wang Shan.”

Lin Fan spoke, her tone light and airy, her footsteps equally soft as she walked step by step toward him.

Her white embroidered cloth shoes trod over rubble and scorched earth, and she even freed a hand to adjust the green jade hairpin at the back of her head, straightening the tilted pendant.

She never once looked at Wang Shan the entire time.

This kind of casual, indifferent demeanor was more suffocating than any killing intent.

Wang Shan’s back was already pressed flat against the steel door frame.

He felt that aura approaching step by step, his scalp tingling so intensely it felt ready to explode.

Run.

He had to run.

Staying here meant death.

No—worse than death.

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He had witnessed this woman’s methods at Kunlun Mountain, and now her presence was more than a full tier stronger than back then.

Wang Shan’s fingers tightened, gripping the jade walnut.

This was a life-saving treasure bestowed by the Dragon Emperor.

In the early days of the Post-apocalypse, when he first established cooperation with the Dragon Clan through the Rift, the Dragon Emperor had gifted him two through an envoy.

One was used at Kunlun Mountain.

This was the last one.

No choice—if he didn’t use it, he’d die right here.

Wang Shan gritted his teeth, a flash of desperation passing through his murky old eyes.

The next second, he moved.

His mid-Level 7 Mental Strength exploded without reservation, surging forward as a gray-white shockwave aimed directly at Lin Fan.

Not to hurt her.

He knew better than anyone that pitting his Mental Strength against this woman was no different from throwing an egg at a tank.

But he only needed one second.

One second of cover, one second of distance.

Crush the walnut, Spatial Leap, disappear.

The gray-white shockwave rushed toward her face.

Lin Fan didn’t even twitch an eyebrow.

That Mental Strength struck her like water splashing against a dam—not even a single droplet scattered.

“That trick of yours almost caught me off guard last time.”

Lin Fan’s voice came through from behind the shockwave, brimming with amusement.

“This time, I can’t afford to play so carelessly.”

By the time Wang Shan heard those words, he had already completed three actions: unleashing his Mental Strength, turning around, and channeling his power.

His fingers were tightening, only the barest amount of force away from crushing the jade walnut.

Then his hand stopped.

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Not because he wanted to stop.

It was because an overwhelming, despair-inducing Mental Strength, like an invisible wall, had directly smashed through his Mental Barrier and seized control of his body.

Wang Shan’s eyes bulged to their absolute limit.

He could feel his fingers being pried open by an external force.

One, two, three.

The jade walnut rolled out from his open palm.

A fair, slender hand caught it.

Lin Fan had somehow already appeared before him.

Close enough that he could smell the faint scent of grass and wood emanating from her.

She raised the jade walnut to her eyes, turned it around, and examined its grain.

“From the Dragon Emperor? Someone with Spatial Ability like that could only be him.”

Wang Shan couldn’t speak.

Not because he didn’t want to—his mouth was no longer under his control either.

Lin Fan tucked the walnut into her System Space, then lifted her right foot.

The sole of her embroidered cloth shoe pressed down on Wang Shan’s face.

Not hard.

But Wang Shan was forced down onto his knees, his face pressed against the gravel-strewn ground, his posture utterly humiliating.

A once all-powerful federal high-ranking official, a warlord who had turned thousands of living people into puppets, was now trampled beneath an embroidered shoe.

“Do you know what disgusts me most about you?”

Lin Fan didn’t withdraw her foot. She looked down at the old face beneath her, her tone carrying no anger—almost conversational, as if she were making small talk.

“Those federal soldiers—you took control of their consciousness, turned them into your marionettes, made them slaughter each other, made them alive yet no different from the dead.”

“Controlling others is your specialty, isn’t it?”

Wang Shan’s eyeballs spun wildly.

He wanted to beg for mercy, to say something to buy time, but his mouth was sealed shut—not a single syllable could escape.

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Lin Fan withdrew her foot.

Stepped back two paces.

Tilted her head, sizing up Wang Shan’s build.

Fifty-something, thin and wiry, though his back was still straight.

“Since you love controlling others so much.”

Lin Fan smiled—a sweet smile.

“Let’s see how you like being controlled.”

Wang Shan’s body went rigid.

Then, before his terror-stricken eyes, his legs stood up on their own.

Not because he wanted to stand.

Because the woman across from him made him stand.

His body began to walk—toward the flagpole in front of the main gate of the Black Palace.

It was a steel flagpole about fifteen meters tall, still flying a tattered, ragged Uglian national flag that fluttered weakly in the wind.

Wang Shan walked to the base of the flagpole.

His hand rose on its own, gripping the pole.

Then, under Chen Dingjun’s stunned gaze, under Zhu Yan’s bewildered stare, and before the eyes of every surviving puppet soldier within several hundred meters—

Wang Shan, leader of the federal appeasement faction, a seventh-rank mid-stage Mental Strength Evolved being, began to dance a pole dance around the flagpole.

His movements were stiff, contorted, and utterly absurd.

One leg hooked around the pole, body leaning back, the gaunt old man struck a seductive over-the-shoulder pose on the pole.

Then his hands began unbuttoning his shirt.

One.

Two.

His jacket was flung away by his own hands, controlled by Mental Strength.

Wang Shan’s eyes were bloodshot, the veins on his temples bulging.

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He was fighting with every ounce of his Mental Strength.

His seventh-rank mid-stage willpower slammed desperately against that towering wall of mental force.

But compared to Lin Fan’s Mental Strength of over 150,000, amplified by the Omniscient Domain, his struggle was like an ant trying to push over a mountain.

His undershirt was torn off.

Exposing his gaunt, sagging upper body.

Tears streamed down Wang Shan’s face.

This wasn’t an act.

It was pure humiliation.

He had controlled others his entire life—turning living people into puppets, warriors into livestock, survivors into goods to be traded.

No one had ever told him that being controlled felt like this.

Your mind stays fully awake. You are aware of everything. You can see everyone’s eyes on you.

But your body no longer belongs to you.

Chen Dingjun, standing atop the wreckage of a distant aircraft, watched the scene unfold. His mouth hung open for a long time, but not a single word came out.

He had been at odds with Wang Shan for over a decade.

The two of them had tripped each other up, stabbed each other in the back, and wished nothing more than for the other to die.

But at this moment, watching his old rival being manipulated by a young woman’s Mental Strength to perform a striptease atop a flagpole—

Chen Dingjun felt a chill run down his spine.

Not out of sympathy.

Out of fear.

The Mental Strength of this white-haired woman was far beyond anything he had ever known.

A Level 7 mid-stage Mental Strength Evolved being was being toyed with like a plaything in front of her.

What if she decided to do the same to him?

Chen Dingjun instinctively shrank back behind the aircraft wreckage, pulled out his communicator linked to both the capital and the Pacific Base, and sent out a distress signal.