Skinwalker Belle – Chapter 540 – Wherever You Go, I’ll Follow

The moment the bracelet touched his skin, Zhou Ming’s entire body jolted.

Scorching Life Aura poured through his meridians from his wrist, directly refilling his nearly depleted Spirit Sea to the brim.

His Mental Strength was back.

No—it was more than back.

Lu Yuan had slapped all six of Chu Chen’s Energy Storage Bracelets onto him, three on each arm, like plugging six charging cables into a phone at once.

“Enough?” Lu Yuan asked.

Zhou Ming didn’t answer.

He lay prone on the ground with his eyes shut, fingers digging into the soil, every nerve in his body twisted into a single taut rope.

The Spirit Energy kept rising even after filling his Spirit Sea, and his Mental Strength surged from rock bottom to twice its normal output.

He was like a server forcibly overclocked—cooling completely overwhelmed, but processing power doubled.

Enough.

No—more than enough.

Something was stirring.

Far away.

Direction uncertain.

But that power was too familiar—familiar enough to make his scalp crawl.

The exact same Spatial Ability fluctuation as his own.

Ever since he’d broken through to Level Seven, that power had been like a thorn lodged in the back of his skull, hidden somewhere in the world, faint and elusive.

Now that thorn was moving.

It was searching for Hangzhou.

Zhou Ming’s eyes snapped open, his pupils reflecting the flowing light of a sky full of Spirit Energy stars.

“He’s locking on.”

Lu Yuan and Zhu Yan both looked over.

“Long Hao.” Zhou Ming forced the name out through clenched teeth, the veins on his forehead jumping twice.

“I destroyed the Hangzhou city-center coordinates for his spatial teleport. He’s looking for the outskirts now.”

“Can you block him?” Zhu Yan asked.

Zhou Ming said nothing.

He closed his eyes and poured all his Mental Strength into the Spatial Perception Network.

Found it.

Northwest, roughly four hundred kilometers from Hangzhou.

Long Hao’s Spatial Anchor was condensing there, preparing to tear open a Teleportation Channel with a landing point twenty kilometers outside Hangzhou.

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Zhou Ming pulled his right hand out of the mud, spread his fingers, and pressed toward that direction.

“Hum—”

An invisible spatial disturbance shot out from his palm, striking the forming anchor four hundred kilometers away with pinpoint accuracy.

The anchor shattered.

Long Hao’s landing coordinates were violently overwritten into gibberish, and the Teleportation Channel collapsed a tenth of a second before it could form.

Zhou Ming spat out a mouthful of bloody saliva, the corner of his mouth curling up.

“Wherever you go, I’ll be right behind you.”

—

High above, four hundred kilometers away.

Long Hao hovered above the clouds, the half-open spatial rift before him exploding into fragments at the last moment, Spirit Energy shards stinging his face.

He looked down at his hand.

Spatial Backlash from the forcibly interrupted teleport lingered on his fingertips, the skin slightly cracked before being repaired by Death Qi.

Second time.

The first time, he’d tried to teleport directly to the Formation Eye.

The coordinates were pure white noise—impossible to lock on.

The second time, he’d switched to an outer landing point to bypass the interference zone.

And yet, the moment before he finished his coordinate calculation and injected Spirit Energy into the Spatial Node, the other side had precisely severed his anchor.

Not pre-deployed defense.

Real-time tracking.

Wherever he set his target, the other side followed.

“Chu Chen… was this part of your calculations too?”

Long Hao spoke, his voice barely a whisper.

He looked up toward the east.

A streak of white light was pulling away in that direction.

Can’t catch up.

No—it wasn’t that he couldn’t catch up.

It was that every time his teleport was intercepted, it cost him a few more seconds.

Just a few seconds.

Three hundred years of planning was being devoured, second by second, by a man he’d once dismissed as beneath his notice.

Long Hao condensed his Spatial Anchor once more.

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This time, he chose a point sixty kilometers south of Hangzhou.

Anchor formed—shattered.

Forty kilometers east of Hangzhou.

Formed—shattered.

One hundred kilometers directly above Hangzhou.

Formed.

One breath.

Two breaths.

Shattered.

Long Hao closed his eyes.

Zhou Ming’s spatial ability was completely identical in origin to his own.

That meant their spatial fluctuations were completely transparent to each other.

Like two radios tuned to the same frequency—when one powered on, the other picked up the signal.

He could sense Zhou Ming, and Zhou Ming could sense him.

But there was one critical difference.

Zhou Ming didn’t need to guess where he was teleporting.

Because no matter where he teleported, the destination was always Hangzhou.

Zhou Ming only needed to hold the spatial stability around the city.

Defending was always easier than attacking.

Long Hao opened his eyes and stopped wasting time.

Black light burst forth, physical speed maxed out, hurtling straight toward Hangzhou.

But he was already six seconds behind Lin Fan again.

—

Above Hangzhou.

The cloud layer was torn apart from the middle by two forces.

White in front, black behind—two visible streaks of light dragged long tails across the sky.

Lu Yuan stood at the mouth of the cave, craning his neck to watch the sky.

“I see it.”

Zhu Yan’s golden vertical pupils locked onto the distance: “The white light is slowing down… her body is reaching its limit.”

Lu Yuan didn’t respond.

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He turned to look at Zhou Ming, who was lying on the ground.

Zhou Ming’s condition was already dire.

Blood seeped from all seven orifices, and what flowed from his ears was no longer blood—it was pink cerebrospinal fluid.

The spiritual light on his six wristbands flickered in alternating patterns, two of them already completely extinguished.

But his hands were still pressed firmly against the ground.

“How… how much farther?” Zhou Ming’s voice was muffled, as if his mouth were stuffed with cotton.

Zhu Yan estimated the distance between the white light and the convergence point of spiritual energy on the ground.

“Thirty kilometers.”

“And the black one?”

“Three hundred kilometers.”

Zhou Ming gritted his teeth and smiled.

Enough.

Lily was faster than anyone.

His vision began to darken.

Another wristband went dark.

Mental strength plummeted off a cliff, the Spatial Perturbation Network shrinking rapidly from a hundred-kilometer radius to fifty, then thirty…

He couldn’t hold on anymore.

But he didn’t need to.

The white streak of light was already descending.

Plunging straight down toward that point where all the spiritual energy clusters converged.

—

Lin Fan’s consciousness teetered on the edge.

Alarms of depleted mental strength exploded in her mind, and the side effects of the Heart of Envy made her temples throb violently.

Her vision blurred for half a second.

Then the Tyrant Talent activated.

The all-body pain from aging was converted into a sharp, piercing pleasure that shot from the base of her spine to the back of her skull, yanking her scattered consciousness back into focus.

Pain.

Pleasure.

Clarity.

Three steps in one, her consciousness refocused.

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Below, the convergence point of the spiritual river lay dead ahead.

Countless clusters of light slammed into the mountain sealed by tens of thousands of tons of rock. The entire mountain was glowing, white and blinding.

Thirty kilometers.

Twenty kilometers.

Speed was dropping.

The sonic boom cone fell from thirty times Mach to twenty, then to ten.

Her atrophied limbs couldn’t provide enough thrust, and her bones emitted a dense crackling sound under the wind pressure.

Ten kilometers.

Behind her.

The black light tore through the last layer of cloud.

Lin Fan didn’t look back.

The mountain ahead was now within arm’s reach.

The surface rock was cracking from spiritual energy overload, and blinding white light surged from the fissures.

She tucked her arms in, pouring the last shred of mental strength into her entire body.

Spirit-Flesh Unity.

Her solid body turned into a phantom, passing through a hundred meters of rock layers and the alloy gate.

Her feet touched the ground.

In that white circular space, the three-meter-tall transparent arc of light had already expanded to ten meters.

Countless clusters of Spirit Energy surged in from all directions, greedily devoured by the arc.

The arc was expanding.

It was opening.

Lin Fan stood before it, her gray-white hair tossed wildly by the storm of Spirit Energy.

She raised her wrinkled hands, gazing at the image taking shape within the arc.

That was not the Dragon Spirit Continent.

Nor was it anywhere on Blue Star.

Deep within the arc, there was a door.

The door was half-open.

Beyond the door, there was light.

The color of that light seemed vaguely familiar to her.