The Gacha Of Forbidden Taboos

Chapter 7: Return Of The Ghost

Lin Feng's POV

The Great Hall of Silver-Spire smelled of roasted manticore and expensive jasmine incense, a stark contrast to the metallic tang of the Scavenger Pits still clinging to my skin.

High above, the vaulted ceilings were enchanted to reflect a swirling nebula, casting a soft, ethereal glow over the "Elites" of the Academy.

They sat at long tables of weirwood, draped in silks that cost more than a commoner’s life. At the head of the chamber, Young Master Shen was holding court, a golden chalice of spirit-wine in his hand, laughing as he recounted the "unfortunate accident" at the Awakening Ceremony.

Then the heavy, iron-reinforced doors at the far end of the hall groaned.

The laughter didn't stop all at once, it withered, starting from the back rows and moving toward the dais like a spreading frost. I stepped into the light of the nebula.

My tunic was a shredded ruin, caked in a mixture of my own dried blood and the dark, viscous spray of a Tier-2 Hunter.

My left arm was bound in a makeshift sling of filthy bandages, but my back was straighter than it had ever been in my eighteen years of life.

I didn't sneak in. I marched. Each footfall echoed against the polished marble, a rhythmic thud-thud that sounded like a war drum in the sudden silence.

"Lin Feng?"

The whisper traveled through the hall like a virus.

Shen’s chalice paused halfway to his lips. His golden tan turned a sickly shade of parchment. He stood up, the chair screeching against the floor.

"You... you should be rotting in the Pits. Kenan was sent to…" He bit back the rest of the sentence, his eyes darting to the High Priest and the faculty members seated nearby.

"Kenan was a bit clumsy, Young Master," I said, my voice cutting through the heavy air. I didn't stop until I was ten paces from his table. "

The Gravel-Dogs are hungry this time of year. It’s dangerous to send a house-pet into a wolf’s den."

"Insolence!" Shen roared. The air around him shimmered as he unleashed his Tier-4 Mana Pressure.

It hit the room like a physical shockwave. Students at the nearby tables gasped, some doubling over as the weight of his fire-aspected intent pressed down on their lungs.

It was meant to crush me, to force my knees to shatter against the marble and make me grovel for breath.

[HEAVY MANA PRESSURE DETECTED.]

[SKILL ACTIVATED: PAIN-TO-POWER CONVERSION (LEVEL 1).]

[CONVERTING SPIRITUAL WEIGHT TO PHYSICAL STAMINA...]

I felt the pressure hit my shoulders, but instead of buckling, my muscles hummed.

The "Void" in my chest opened wide, swallowing the heat of his anger and turning it into a cool, steady stream of endurance.

I didn't just stand; I leaned into the pressure, taking a deliberate step forward.

"Is that all?" I asked, a predatory tilt to my head. "I’ve felt heavier rain."

The faculty members leaned forward, their eyes narrowing. Elder Mu, seated in the shadows of the corner, stroked his beard, a faint, dangerous glint in his eyes.

"You’re a Zero!" Shen hissed, his face contorting. "You have no right to stand in this hall! Guards! Remove this filth before he stains the floor!"

"Wait," I said, raising my hand. I reached into the small leather pouch at my belt, Kenan's pouch. "I believe your dog dropped something, Young Master. I thought it only polite to return it."

I flicked my wrist. A small, pale object bounced across the weirwood table, rolling through a puddle of spilled wine before coming to a stop right in front of Shen’s plate.

It was a severed finger. The Silver-Spire signet ring was still jammed onto the knuckle, the crest of Shen’s own household smeared with dried gore.

A collective gasp sucked the air out of the room.

Two girls at the neighboring table turned away, gagging. Shen stared at the finger, his breath hitching. He recognized the ring. He recognized the man it belonged to.

"Kenan... you killed a High-Talent Guard?" The High Priest stood, his voice trembling with outrage. "This is a capital crime! Execution is the only…"

"Under Academy Law, Section 4, Paragraph 12," I interrupted, my voice calm and cold, "any student 'marked' for the Extermination Trials is granted the 'Right of Challenge' against their accuser if they survive an assassination attempt by that accuser’s house."

I looked directly at Shen, whose hand was shaking as he reached for his sword hilt.

"I’m not here to be executed," I said, the red Gacha screen flickering in my peripheral vision, sensing the massive spike of humiliation radiating from the dais. "I’m here to exercise my right. Shen of the House of Flame, I challenge you to a Duel of the Damned before the Trials begin."

The hall went deathly silent. A "Zero" challenging a Tier-4 genius was suicide. But under the ancient laws, Shen couldn't refuse without forfeiting his rank and his family's honor.

[HUMILIATION INDEX: MASSIVE.]

[TOTAL POINTS HARVESTED: 12,000.]

[NEW SPIN EARNED: TIER - MASSACRE.]

Shen looked around at his peers, seeing the doubt and the morbid curiosity in their eyes. He had no choice. He looked at me, his eyes burning with a promise of agonizing death.

"I accept," he spat, the words tasting like poison. "And I will enjoy burning the skin from your bones, brother-less trash."

I didn't flinch. I just smiled, the same jagged, terrifying expression I’d worn in the Pits.

"I look forward to it," I whispered. "I’m going to need every spark you’ve got."

[CHALLENGE ACCEPTED.]

[TIME UNTIL DUEL: 24 HOURS.]

[PREPARE TO PULL.]