My Avatar Is Becoming the Final Boss-Chapter 24: Ghost Bell

Ji Minghuan shifted his gaze from the words on the panel and once again scrutinized the dispirited man before him. That tall profile overlapped almost perfectly with the sinister and bloodthirsty Ghost Bell seen on television.
“You guys aren’t good enough. Send someone from Rainbow Wing to come get me…”
That was the declaration of crime Ji Minghuan had heard on TV. Back then, Ghost Bell wore a Z-shaped mask, his blood-red eye sockets glinting with a fierce light. The mechanically distorted voice was dark and hoarse, and it felt like the sound still echoed in his ears.
And now, many of the questions in Ji Minghuan’s mind finally made sense.
Why had Gu Wenyu’s father not returned home for two full years?
Why had the super-criminal “Ghost Bell” never harmed ordinary people in the past two years, only attacking Espers who abused their powers and destroying valuable cultural relics?
And most importantly:
—Why was Ghost Bell so insistent on having members of Rainbow Wing dispatched to arrest him?
After uncovering the identity hidden beneath this violent man’s mask, the reasons behind all these questions became as clear as water-soaked paper:
Gu Zhuo’an wanted to draw out the Rainbow Wing member who had killed his wife—and then tear him apart with his own hands.
A few years ago, after the protest against Rainbow Wing failed, Gu Zhuo’an suffered immense humiliation. He appeared to compromise by accepting hundreds of thousands in compensation from the authorities, but deep down, he never let go of his obsession. It was like a fire trapped in his belly—if he didn’t let it out, it would consume him alive.
That’s why he chose to become a superhuman criminal, doing everything he could to attract Rainbow Wing’s attention.
The irony was, Gu Qiye had taken a path completely opposite to Gu Zhuo’an’s:
In order to find the Rainbow Wing member who accidentally killed their mother, Gu Qiye chose to join the Reality-altering Esper Association, become a powerful Esper, and be recommended into Rainbow Wing legitimately—so he could find his enemy openly.
At this thought, the surprise in Ji Minghuan’s eyes gradually faded.
Holding his wrist where Gu Zhuo’an had left a red mark, he mused with interest: “They’re father and son, yet they took completely opposite paths for the same goal. Even more, they ended up on opposing sides by twist of fate, wearing masks like beasts trapped in a coliseum, tearing each other apart… So that’s why my first game character was inserted into this family—to make me appreciate this Greek tragedy of a family drama?”
“Oh no… I’ve already started subconsciously roleplaying as Black Cocoon. Why are my inner thoughts turning so dramatically edgy?” he thought again.
At that moment, Gu Qiye looked at the finger-shaped bruise on Ji Minghuan’s wrist, his face twitching slightly, the coldness on his already expressionless face deepening further.
He didn’t want to lose his temper in front of his siblings, so he took a deep breath, suppressing his anger, and said as calmly as possible to Gu Zhuo’an:
“What do you think you’re doing?”
But the calmer his tone, the scarier it sounded to Su Zimai’s ears—she had never heard her brother speak like that. He always wore a smile and spoke as gently as possible. Even when he was angry, he would withdraw rather than show it.
Gu Zhuo’an sat silently in the chair, face pale.
For a moment, he couldn’t even come up with a reason for what he just did. Maybe it was the constant life-or-death tension of the past two years, the ambushes, the high alert. His nerves were worn thin. So when his son simply touched his shoulder, he reacted with such force.
But what was that strange sensation just now… like a snake leaping out of the jungle, crawling up his shoulder, its green eyes glowing eerily in the dark, piercing every corner of his heart.
“Old man… I was just handing you a bowl and chopsticks.” Ji Minghuan took a deep breath and said unhurriedly, “Do your nerves really need to be this jumpy? Don’t tell me you’ve been working undercover as a narc these two years… Aren’t drug cops in movies the ones who vanish for years?”
He thought to himself: The power of a quasi-Calamity-level Esper is terrifying. If he hadn’t held back just now, my wrist might’ve been ripped off.
Seeing that Gu Zhuo’an didn’t respond, Ji Minghuan silently opened the system panel, went to [System Settings], and turned the “Pain Sensitivity” from 50% down to 1%.
That way, even if he lost a limb, it’d only feel like someone had stepped on his toe.
“I’m sorry, Wenyu, I…” Gu Zhuo’an looked at the toppled dishes on the table, hesitated to finish his sentence.
Gu Qiye walked silently over to Ji Minghuan to check his wrist.
Ji Minghuan clicked his tongue, showing a flicker of guilt, afraid this good big brother might see through something, so he brushed it off with a “No big deal,” and headed to the living room to find a band-aid.
Gu Qiye stood still for a moment, then turned to Gu Zhuo’an and said quietly,
“Don’t bring your nasty habits home… You disappeared for two years, and this is the first thing you do when you get back. How do you expect us to trust you?”
His jaw tightened, and he lowered his voice even more, “I thought you had changed… But you’re still the same. Ever since mom died, you haven’t changed a bit. All you care about is the one who’s already gone—you never once thought about how much pain your children were in.”
“Did you ever consider that your kids were also deeply affected by mom’s death? But to make you feel better, each of us hid our emotions. And you ignored that, treated us like air.”
“Do you know how many times Little Mai cried after you vanished? How many times she told me she wanted you back?”
At this point, Gu Qiye laughed bitterly, his lips twisting into a sneer:
“I never should’ve told her you’d come back. I should’ve told her: people like you belong in a coffin with the dead. After all, to you, the living family members don’t matter… Only the dead ones do, right?”
There was so much more Gu Qiye wanted to say, but couldn’t.
He knew better than anyone how badly their father had been crushed by the Rainbow Wing incident.
To uncover who had really killed their mother and give himself some closure, Gu Qiye had to juggle school while caring for his younger siblings. At night, he donned his combat suit to to the Association, executing mission after mission, brushing shoulders with death, battling psychotic criminals under intense pressure.
He put his life on the line to gain his current reputation and position in the Reality-altering Esper Association.
And he also knew, if their father had collapsed after mom’s death, it would be unfair to the kids who survived. So for the sake of his brother and sister growing up healthy, he buried all his pain, always keeping a smile on his face.
But after doing all that, after holding in so much and nearly breaking down countless times…
What was this useless father doing?
In truth, Gu Qiye never expected anything from his father.
He only hoped their father could move on from their mother’s death and acknowledge the children still here.
He hoped his father would understand that he wasn’t the only one grieving her death. Every child had looked at their broken father and, even while grieving themselves, forced a smile, patted his shoulder, trying to ease his pain.
But this coward ran away—for two whole years.
Gu Qiye had thought his father might’ve changed after all that time. After all… those two years were enough for him to grow from a powerless child into Lijing’s flagship Esper, “Blue Arc.” Maybe his father had turned over a new leaf too.
Nobody stays the same forever.
But that hope only led to crushing disappointment—so much so that Gu Qiye felt sick for even having it.
Right in front of his eyes, the father he hadn’t seen in two years had just lashed out at his own child.
How was that any different from scum?
However, at that moment, Gu Zhuo’an stood there with his head bowed, like a statue.
No matter how much anger Gu Qiye vented at him, he didn’t move at all. But the more he stood still, the more complicated Gu Qiye’s expression became. It was like punching into cotton candy—powerless and infuriating, all the accusations falling into nothing.
After a long silence, the father suddenly spoke: “So… you’ve already forgotten your mother?”
Gu Qiye froze on the spot. The next second, veins bulged at his temples and he practically growled, voice trembling uncontrollably: “Shut up… what do you even know about what I’ve done?!”
Su Zimai had remained silent from beginning to end, her gaze lowered, holding her chopsticks without a word.
Ji Minghuan stood alone in the living room, took a band-aid out from the tea cabinet drawer, and symbolically stuck it onto his wrist.
Listening to the voices coming from the kitchen, he glanced sideways at the tense father and son, and mused to himself: “What a soap opera of family ethics… Then again, you two really are something else—fighting to the death in masks out there, and back home you still argue with the masks off. In a way, like father, like son.”
He knew full well why Gu Qiye was acting so out of character today.
The reason his emotions were so unstable was that both of his pressure points had been hit dead-on:
First, last night he got completely played by an uninvited guest named “Black Cocoon,” who even told him he knew his true identity—meaning he could harm his family at any time. Gu Qiye valued family more than anything, so it was only natural his heart would be thrown into chaos.
The second was that his father hurt his younger brother right in front of him, then said something like “you’ve already forgotten your mother.”
You had to know—Gu Qiye had been risking his life these past few years just to uncover the truth about his mother’s death, all for the chance to join Rainbow Wing.
And now, all that unspoken effort was casually dismissed by his father in one sentence. Forgotten? How could he possibly forget?
Though it looked like Ji Minghuan had sparked all of this, he didn’t believe he was at fault.
Because eventually, Gu Qiye would have found out the truth anyway—that Gu Zhuo’an was actually the super-criminal “Ghost Bell” who had clashed with him twice. That, like him, Gu Zhuo’an had been “fighting” to uncover the truth about their mother.
When that moment comes… the emotional fortress Gu Qiye had spent so long building would likely collapse in an instant, shattered beyond repair.
And Ji Minghuan? He was just nudging things along a bit for his own gain—this fire was bound to break out eventually. He just made it burn faster. He wasn’t the one who lit it.
“Are you two still going to argue?” Su Zimai suddenly spoke.
She stared at the chopsticks in her bowl, and asked in a low voice, “Weren’t we… supposed to have a nice meal?”
Gu Qiye paused, the heat of his anger gradually cooling, his Adam’s apple bobbing.
Gu Zhuo’an still didn’t speak, standing silently like a sculpture.
Ji Minghuan turned his head to look—Su Zimai had her head down, her eyes shaded by her bangs.
She continued, “I’m going to stay at a classmate’s place this summer. I’m leaving tonight. I hope none of you come bothering me.” After saying that, she put her chopsticks down, stood from the table, walked quickly into the living room, grabbed her backpack with one hand, and turned to leave.
Her brisk footsteps faded away, followed by the loud slam of the front door echoing through the hallway and into the living room.
Then, complete silence. Not a sound in the entire house, except for the deafening cicadas outside the window.
After a long pause, Gu Qiye took a deep breath.
He stood from where he was leaning against the disinfection cabinet, bracing his right hand on the edge of the sink, and said to Gu Zhuo’an: “I cleaned your room in advance. I don’t want to see you right now.”
Gu Zhuo’an nodded, turned to look out the window at the fading light, and said quietly, “Little Mai, she…”
“She’s none of your business,” Gu Qiye said calmly. “You haven’t been taking care of her for two years anyway.”
Ji Minghuan immediately jumped in: “Then I’ll go find sis.”
It was obvious he didn’t enjoy this bitter, angst-filled family drama. As a spiritual outsider, it was better to steer clear—otherwise, who knows when he’d suddenly channel his inner veteran actor and end up sobbing with these twisted father-son leads in a full-blown domestic melodrama.
Gu Qiye looked up at him. “But you haven’t eaten.”
“No need… With all this going on, who could eat? No appetite. And didn’t she say she didn’t want to be bothered by you guys? If someone’s going after her, it has to be me.”
Having thrown down that line like the instigator he was, Ji Minghuan walked straight out without looking back.
The moment he closed the front door behind him, he pulled his phone from the pocket of his school jacket, using a random anonymous app to compose a message while extending his Binding Restraint to search the dim surroundings for the direction Su Zimai had gone.
After a moment, Ji Minghuan finished editing his message, typed in the recipient’s number, and hit send.
At the same time, using the sensory capabilities of his Binding Restraint, he picked up on Su Zimai’s footsteps. He shoved both hands into his pockets and followed the sound.
His silhouette slowly melted into the dusk.
Meanwhile, alone in the kitchen, Gu Qiye sat with his hand to his forehead, eyes lowered, muttering: “I shouldn’t have lost my temper in front of Little Mai…”
Just as he was thinking that, a “ding” came from his pocket—it was a new message notification.
He was about to shut his phone off, but thinking it might be from Su Zimai or Gu Wenyu, he hesitated and took a look.
It was a text. The sender’s name and number were hidden, like some prank or spam message.
But the content made Gu Qiye freeze for a second.
[Anonymous User: So? Do you now believe my words, and feel… even the slightest doubt about your father?]
Gu Qiye’s face twitched slightly.
After a moment’s hesitation, heart in turmoil, he opened the message thread.
Even though he already had a feeling, he still replied to confirm.
[Gu Qiye: Who are you?]
[Black Cocoon: I see… then I’ll use this name to talk to you. It should ring a bell.]