C110 — The Sense of Repentance

Unlike Shouwang Community, Repentance Community had only a single building.

It stood nine stories tall. Except for the first floor, each floor contained twenty rooms. The first floor, however, was one large hall with no rooms at all.

The building had no elevators, only three staircases—one on each side and one in the middle.

On the main entrance door of the first floor, a notice was posted: Rules for Residents of Repentance Community.

1. All residents of Repentance Community are people who have committed mistakes. Until the detention period is complete, no one is allowed to leave. However, the community has many entertainment facilities, and residents are permitted to leave the building itself to visit the nearby recreation area.

2. Every day, residents must complete the task posted on their room’s bulletin board. If a resident fails to complete the task for the day, their detention period will be extended by one more day.

3. Residents may move freely within stairways and between floors. Please get along well with neighbors, practice kindness and cooperation, and maintain a harmonious community atmosphere.

4. Residents must constantly repent for their sins and live orderly and wisely within the community.

Just like Shouwang Community’s rules, these also emphasized “orderly” and “wise.”

When Mu Sichen saw the words “orderly,” he couldn’t help but feel a touch of irony.

The butterfly was like that thief from the old fable who covered his own ears while stealing a bell—clearly it had already become a god-level monster, unable to restrain its compulsion to harm the townsfolk, yet it insisted on using the excuse of “punishing evildoers” to justify its actions.

This dream world—was it truly a utopia woven for the residents, or was it a beautiful illusion woven by the butterfly itself to preserve its last shred of humanity?

Mu Sichen entered his assigned room and immediately went to check the bulletin board.

A line of text had already appeared:

[After 5 p.m., please clean the swimming pool’s changing room. Retrieve all personal belongings left behind by residents and return them to their rightful owners. The community manager will inspect the changing room’s cleanliness at 8 a.m. tomorrow.]

The task looked simple enough—yet who knew what the situation in the pool might really be?

Mu Sichen had entered the game cabin at 3 p.m. He had already spent more than an hour in Mengdie Town. It was now ten minutes before five.

He glanced at the game group chat and saw that Chi Lian hadn’t sent any new messages. So he decided to visit He Fei.

After understanding the “pillar’s” mechanism, Mu Sichen was in a terrible mood. He needed someone like He Fei—naturally optimistic—to lift his spirits.

But more than that, what he truly needed was someone he could confide in. He longed to ask Qin Zu: in a pillar like this, how could he possibly save as many lives as possible?

Yes, under these rules, people had likely committed serious crimes.

But Mu Sichen knew—it wasn’t truly their fault.

If the first town he had crossed into hadn’t been Tongzhi Town but instead Mengdie Town… if he had been thrown inexplicably into Repentance Community… then perhaps he too would have been lured step by step into an inescapable path by these very rules.

Such things were never the original intent of the people—it was pollution.

Just like in Tongzhi Town’s sanatorium, where patients, doctors, and families—desperate to escape Bright Eye Sanatorium and avoid turning into those hideous bubble-eyed creatures—ended up harming others.

But once the pollution was cleansed, everything they had done vanished along with it.

If actions weren’t made under one’s own self-control, could they really be counted as that person’s responsibility?

To Mu Sichen, it felt as though a button was set before him. Pressing it would mean countless deaths.

And a demonic voice whispered in his ear: “Press it. After all, those who die are nothing but murderers, people who have nothing to do with you.”

But after pressing that button, would he still be the same person he once was?

“Qin Zu… as the so-called ‘Guardian god of Humanity,’ if you were faced with this situation, what would you do?” Mu Sichen whispered.

Of course, Qin Zu gave no reply. The little octopus wasn’t by his side either.

Mu Sichen let out a self-mocking laugh. He realized how foolish that question sounded.

Here he was, trapped in this “pillar,” unable to find a way out—and yet he still had the mood to ask such things.

He hadn’t even gotten his hands on the button yet. Best to leave the question until then.

He arrived at room 4013 and knocked. He Fei opened the door, pulled him inside at once, and hugged him, crying out:

“People here are awful!”

“Is this about the poisoned cola? Or did something else happen?” Mu Sichen asked, noticing the bandages around He Fei’s arm and head. The wound on the arm was clearly from trying to “purge” the toxin—but the one on his head? He couldn’t have done that to himself, could he?

Covering his head unhappily, He Fei explained:

“I was just focused on reading your chat logs with Chi Lian when I suddenly heard Thump thump thump at the door.”

“I opened it and saw a man and a woman fighting over a card. The guy had a kitchen knife, the woman a metal rod.”

“They were going at it like they meant to kill each other, though both were skilled enough to avoid fatal blows.”

“The card kept flying through the air—and somehow, it ended up in my hands.”

“But before I could even see what was written on it, the woman swung her rod at my head.”

“Luckily, I dodged in time. The rod only grazed me. See here, on my temple—it’s swollen.”

He Fei pulled aside the bandage to show him.

Mu Sichen glanced. It looked nasty—bloody and bruised—but nothing more than a surface wound. Nothing life-threatening.

“Did you manage to read the card at all?” Mu Sichen asked.

“Didn’t get the chance. She snatched it back.”

“When they were fighting over it, did the card ever face you directly?”

He Fei nodded. “Yeah, but the text was tiny. You know I’m near-sighted—I couldn’t make it out.”

“Am I useless or what? Came into Repentance Community early, already got myself beaten up, and didn’t gather any useful intel. The card was right in front of me and I couldn’t even read it.” He Fei lowered his head, holding it in shame.

Mu Sichen hadn’t come intending to console him. In truth, he himself was in no mood—he had come here seeking some positive energy from He Fei. Yet the always carefree He Fei was sitting there discouraged. That was unlike him.

Since one of them had to stay strong, Mu Sichen forced himself to straighten up, patted He Fei on the shoulder, and reassured him:

“It’s fine. I can see it.”

One of Big Eye’s abilities was “What is known, can be seen.”

Now that Mu Sichen knew what had happened at He Fei’s door, and since He Fei had indeed seen the front of the card, Mu Sichen could use He Fei’s vision as a medium to activate the power of his left eye.

He placed his hand over He Fei’s eyes, covering his own right eye, leaving only the left one open.

The scene He Fei described appeared before Mu Sichen.

He saw the man and woman locked in vicious combat, just as He Fei said, struggling for that card. The card, black with white letters, spun again and again in the air.

Clear as day, Mu Sichen read the words:

“Sentence Reduction Card – reduces detention by 7 days.”

He released He Fei’s eyes and shut the “Eye of Truth.” His left eye throbbed with sharp pain.

He blinked hard twice, but the pain in his eye was so sharp that everything blurred into shadows.

What was going on? What exactly had attacked him just now? Mu Sichen couldn’t figure it out.

He had used the Eye of Truth countless times before—except for that one time when Big Eye let him look directly at Shen Jiyue’s true form, he had never experienced pain like this. Now it felt like needles stabbing into his eye, a searing agony that made him too afraid to even try opening the ability again.

And it wasn’t even anything powerful he had looked at. Those two fighting had clearly seen the front of the Sentence Reduction Card too, yet they hadn’t been hurt. So why him?

Mu Sichen pressed his hand against his eye, gritting his teeth to endure it.

He Fei leaned closer, concerned. “What happened? Let me see.”

When Mu Sichen moved his hand away, He Fei froze—his left eye was bloodshot, red as though it were bleeding out.

Immediately guilt twisted He Fei’s face. “How did it end up like this? It’s all my fault. If I had just looked at the card myself, you wouldn’t be this badly hurt.”

Mu Sichen: “…”

He stared at He Fei’s guilty expression—and felt a deep strangeness.

Because that wasn’t like He Fei at all.

Back in the library, He Fei had been controlled by Shen Jiyue, even taken hostage. Mu Sichen had nearly lost the “pillar” and risked being polluted. And yet He Fei hadn’t once felt guilty. He hadn’t apologized.

In his worldview, danger was normal—anyone could be caught up in it. If something went wrong, it wasn’t about blame. He Fei wouldn’t think he dragged Mu Sichen down, nor would he complain that Mu Sichen hadn’t protected him.

He would just laugh and say: “Good thing I drew out the key info. Man, what luck I have, haha!”

That was He Fei.

But now? The man in front of him looked like he was about to burst into tears. Was he possessed?

No—Mu Sichen confirmed it was really He Fei. But something had clearly gone wrong. He wanted to use the Eye of Truth to examine him closer, but the pain was unbearable—he couldn’t open it.

“It’s all my fault… I can’t help you… sob, sob…” He Fei’s voice cracked as tears welled up.

A spike of irritation stabbed Mu Sichen. He shoved away the hand trying to drip medicine into his eye, snapping impatiently:

“Stop crying!”

The push devastated He Fei. He curled up on the floor, arms wrapped around his knees, an aura of gloom radiating off him. Head buried, he muttered to himself in a low, broken voice.

Mu Sichen felt a chill. Something was wrong. Not just with He Fei—but with himself.

Ever since he stepped into Repentance Community, his mood had sunk into inexplicable melancholy. He had barely started looking for the pillar and already he was imagining himself as some criminal burdened with countless deaths, even weakly wishing for Qin Zu’s guidance.

If not for Qin Zu being an ally at the moment, that thought would have been indistinguishable from praying to an evil god. If it had been Shen Jiyue, Nie Yihai, or Zhuo Huaichu instead… he might already have become their servant.

Why was he like this?

He pressed down his restlessness and leaned in closer. From He Fei’s lips, he caught the repeated whisper:

“It’s all my fault, it’s my wrong…”

It was confession.

And his own mindset earlier—was also confession.

Even though he hadn’t harmed anyone inside the pillar yet, he had already begun to repent in advance.

So that was it—this was the power of Repentance Community.

Anyone who entered would be consumed by that sense of guilt, forced to dwell on their past or impending mistakes, unable to stop themselves from falling into endless self-reproach.

As long as one was ruled by repentance, they’d sink into the cycle of repentance → atonement → release.

The stronger the repentance, the more intense the release after atonement—feeding the pillar with even greater waves of emotional energy.

Mu Sichen had figured this out. But that didn’t mean he could pull himself free.

He understood the logic clearly—yet his chest was still heavy, his mood still sunken, his willpower still sapped.

In frustration, he slapped himself hard across the face—then struck He Fei as well, hoping pain would jolt them both awake.

But He Fei just covered the spot, eyes brimming with tears, looking at him like: “I must have done something wrong, that’s why you hit me.”

That sight only made the guilt inside Mu Sichen swell deeper, pressing harder against his chest.

Something was wrong. Deeply wrong.

The feeling was uncanny, profoundly out of place.

It was as if his very spirit was being manipulated by some invisible hand.

But that couldn’t be. Mind Domination—that was Shen Jiyue’s title.

Butterfly could command dreams, yes, but not the spirit.

Unless…

Wait. If true mental domination belonged to Shen Jiyue—

Then this suffocating tide of forced repentance he and He Fei were drowning in—

Could it be pollution?

And if it was pollution… then it could be purified.

Even if his Self Totem couldn’t manage it—

The Crossaxe surely could.

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