Chapter 261

Chapter 261: Deadly Mail

An indescribable feeling surged through Bai Yan’s heart.

Never before had he been so close, both physically and emotionally, to the truth about the “Babel Tower.”

“Is this the fundamental rule of the book called Babel Tower?”

He looked up, his gaze fixed on streams of black ribbons flowing out from the phone, drifting mid-air. Above them, a cascade of characters hovered like clouds, shifting slowly in deliberate patterns, as though governed by immutable laws.

Without a doubt—this was it.

This was the core principle of Babel Tower!

Bai Yan steadied himself, inhaling deeply.

“So, let’s begin…”

Focusing every ounce of his being on the ethereal symbols, he activated Insightful Linking.

Instantly, a splitting headache struck, sharper and fiercer than he anticipated. His mental strength drained at an alarming pace, more vigorously than before. It was far beyond anything he’d experienced.

“No…” he thought. “The challenge of uncovering the truths of Babel Tower is far greater than peering into the laws of destiny or the future.”

The realization hit him like a thunderclap. The effort taxed not just his mind but his very soul.

As his body shook violently, his vision blurred and darkened. The world tilted, threatening to consume him.

“If I collapse now, all my efforts will be for nothing…”

Summoning a willpower beyond the ordinary, Bai Yan resisted unconsciousness. His eyes, wide and bloodshot, remained fixed on the floating ribbons and the symbols they bore.

“I see it… I see it now!”

In his final moments of lucidity, he grasped a fragment of their meaning:

If the operation ‘Deadly Mail’ is successfully completed, the difficulty of the First Doomsday Crisis will slightly decrease, or…

Bai Yan awakened to a profound sense of exhaustion.

For the first time in years, he felt the frailty of an ordinary human.

Lying there, he slowly pieced

together what had happened.

His attempt to discern the

rules of Babel Tower had

drained his mental strength

and inflicted damage on his

soul. His powers had

weakened slightly.

Even as he recovered, he

resolved: If unnecessary, this

must never be attempted

again.

The room was still. Yet, a

presence lingered nearby.

Opening his eyes, he found

Sylve lying on the floor, her

chin resting on her hands. She

was watching him with an

intensity that was both curious

and shy.

“Sylve?” Bai Yan’s voice was

soft, breaking the silence.

Startled, Sylve quickly

withdrew, her face turning

crimson.

“Mr. Moriarty, are you okay

now?” she asked, her voice

laced with concern.

“I’m fine,” Bai Yan replied with a

faint smile. The throbbing in

his head persisted, but he

dismissed it.

Sylve let out a breath of relief,

her words spilling out rapidly:

“When I saw you lying there, I

panicked! I thought something

terrible had happened. But

when I realized you were just

asleep, I didn’t dare wake

you…”

Her words trailed off, and she

lowered her head.

Bai Yan stood, extending a

hand to help her up. Her

innocent concern brought a

faint smile to his lips—a rare

softness in a world fraught

with madness.

“Sylve,” he said, his tone light.

“The tree outside… I planted it

to save the world.”

Sylve blinked, puzzled but

intrigued.

“One day, that tree will open a

magical gateway to other

worlds. When that time comes,

we’ll go together—to see what

lies beyond.”

Her eyes sparkled with hope

as she nodded eagerly.

But when she looked back, Bai

Yan was gone.

Standing on the rooftop, Bai

Yan stared into the horizon, his

black cloak billowing in the

wind.

The Babel Tower game

interface glowed on his phone.

The new event, “Deadly Mail,”

loomed ominously—a chilling

introduction accompanied by

an image of a cursed black

envelope.

Four bosses. Four crises.

“Two hours,” he muttered. “I

have two hours to stop them.”

The countdown had begun,

and the stakes had never been

higher. If he could achieve an

SS-level evaluation, the

difficulty of the First

Doomsday Crisis would ease.

Bai Yan clenched his fists.

“I won’t fail.”

Meanwhile, at Herendor

University, An Yang scrolled

through the Babel Tower

forums.

As a devoted fan, she adored

the heroes of Babel Tower,

especially Nightsaber. Her

dorm room was a shrine to the

team, with posters, figurines,

and plush toys adorning every

surface.

But not everyone shared her

admiration.

Online, detractors ridiculed the

heroes, accusing them of

vanity and negligence. An Yang

fumed, furiously defending her idols in comment sections.

“Why can’t they see all the good Babel Tower has done?” she muttered, frustrated.

Her phone chimed—a new

email.

Another hate message?

She sighed, reaching for her

mouse. But before she could

click, a hand seized her wrist.

“Don’t move.”

Her heart stopped.

Slowly, she turned—and froze.

Standing before her was

Nightsaber.

Her idol. Her hero. In the flesh.

“N-Nightsaber?!”

The legendary figure didn’t

respond. Her piercing gaze

was fixed on the computer

screen.

“That email,” she said, her

voice steady but urgent. “If you

open it, everyone in this

university will die.”

An Yang gasped, her blood

running cold.

“What… What is this?”

But Nightsaber offered no

explanation.

The cursor moved on its own,

clicking on the email.

The screen went dark. A

chilling whisper filled the

room.

And the nightmare began.