C111 – Step-by-Step Release

Mu Sichen immediately pulled out the Crossaxe.

The moment it left the weapon slot, it smacked both him and He Fei across the face like a heavy slap, then hovered in midair, looming over Mu Sichen with an air of superiority.

Clutching his stinging cheek, Mu Sichen felt the oppressive wave of repentance gradually fade, though it drained a good portion of his energy.

He looked up at the smug Fragment-Moon-Dream-Ripper-Sprout-Chopper Crossaxe, and couldn’t help but think: If this thing had hands, it would be standing with its arms akimbo, glaring at me right now.

And if it could talk, it would probably be cursing him for being so useless.

When he had drawn it out, the Crossaxe had already been trembling violently inside the weapon slot.

Not from fear—but from sheer anger at being stuck in there, unable to get out.

Apparently, the crossaxe had long since noticed he was being polluted and had been waiting for him to summon it.

But Mu Sichen had failed to realize this, leaving the crossaxe trapped in the slot, quaking in fury.

Now, as he stared at it, the Crossaxe spun a few loops in the air like the blades of a fan.

Mu Sichen had no idea what it meant, so he simply watched.

The crossaxe spun even faster, buzzing with a sharp whirring hum.

Trying to guess its intentions, Mu Sichen glanced at its ever-lengthening name on the system panel.

It seemed that ever since he had seized his first pillar in the sanatorium, the crossaxe had developed a will of its own—to the point of naming itself.

At first, it had defined itself in opposition to the Guardian Sword, and though it was still called “Crossaxe,” it had gained the skill One Furious Swing.

After smashing the Guardian Sword, that skill vanished—replaced instead with the title “Fragmented Moon.”

The more god-tier monsters Mu Sichen encountered, the longer the crossaxe’s name grew, each new epithet tied to a grudge.

Thinking back, this probably started when Mu Sichen plastered more than twenty cornerstone-level self-stickers onto it. That was when its self-awareness began to awaken.

At first, its consciousness wasn’t strong. Its grudges weren’t personal, either—the feud with the Guardian Sword, for example, manifested as a skill rather than a name.

Only after Mu Sichen formed his half-domain did the crossaxe truly begin holding grudges, piling on longer and longer titles.

Its naming wasn’t about achievements—it was about targets of resentment.

If it had already been self-aware when he encountered Big-Eye, it would probably have picked up some kind of Eye-Stabber title.

And whenever Mu Sichen defeated an enemy, the crossaxe would remove that enemy from its titles or skills. That was why One Furious Swing had vanished.

Putting the pieces together, Mu Sichen concluded that the crossaxe was a petty, quick-tempered tool with a terrible memory, prone to grudges that burned hotter the stronger the foe.

It also seemed the type to bully the weak but cower before the strong.

As he pondered, the crossaxe sped up again, spinning dozens of dizzying circles in the air.

Through his analysis of its temperament, Mu Sichen finally caught on to what it wanted.

So, clearing his throat, he said:

“Sorry, it was careless of me not to notice I was being polluted, leaving you waiting so long.”

The crossaxe froze mid-spin, lowering slightly until it hovered at eye level with him.

Thinking a moment, Mu Sichen added:

“Thanks to you, He Fei and I weren’t completely doomed this time. You’ve always protected me. You’re the best.”

The moment those words left his mouth, the Crossaxe gleamed smugly, polished to a shine, and allowed itself to be recalled back into the weapon slot.

Mu Sichen: “…”

Great, now even the crossaxe needs to be coaxed. What the hell am I doing with my life?

Just then, he realized his left eye didn’t hurt as much anymore.

He walked over to the full-length mirror, blinked a few times, and saw the blood-red hue in his eye gradually fade away—without any actual injury left behind.

If there wasn’t any real damage, then why had it felt like his eye was being stabbed, as though he had glimpsed something forbidden?

Wait—who decided what was “forbidden” to see?

Recalling his state at the time, Mu Sichen realized that he had felt like he was spying on the secrets of the district. Deep inside, a heavy sense of guilt had surged up, convincing him he was peeking at something he shouldn’t.

So the thing that “stabbed” his eye wasn’t some great external power at all—
It was his own guilt.

But then, where did this guilt, this pollution, come from? Was it really as simple as being contaminated the moment they entered the district?

No—that couldn’t be right. If the district itself was so terrifying, then even if the Crossaxe could cleanse him, the effect would only last seconds before the guilt drowned him again.

There had to be some trigger.

While he was still deep in thought, He Fei sat up, clutching his cheek.

“Damn! That really hurt—why did you hit me? And why’d you let the crossaxe hit me too?”

He leapt in front of the mirror, spotting the faint bloody scratch on his face, while Mu Sichen’s own cheek was perfectly fine.

Outraged, He Fei snapped, “Your damn crossaxe is totally biased! Look at you—face clean as a whistle. And me? Scratched up, bleeding! Lucky this is a dream—if I got disfigured, who the hell’s gonna compensate me?”

Seeing him so lively again, Mu Sichen nodded.

“That’s more like the He Fei I know.”

“Who else would I be if not your Brother Fei?” He Fei shot him a sideways glance.

Mu Sichen said, “Think back to how you were acting just now. Did that seem like you at all?”

He Fei rolled his eyes, trying to remember, and then froze in horror.

“Holy crap… who was that blubbering, crying mess? That wasn’t me!”

Goosebumps prickled all over his arms just from recalling it.

“You were polluted,” Mu Sichen explained. “Your emotions got swallowed by the repentance aura. Try to recall—when did you first start feeling guilty?”

“I don’t remember the exact moment,” He Fei muttered. “I just know that when I got assigned to the Repentance District, I kinda regretted it. Like, I regretted picking that robbery target. Ending up in this district, fine, I can deal with that. But not being able to help Sister Ji… that really made me feel bad.”

Listening carefully, Mu Sichen began to understand.

It always started with them first giving birth to a seed of guilt.

For He Fei, it was regret—feeling he’d let Ji Xian’an down.

For Mu Sichen, it was that pang of guilt over the young woman who had just broken up with her boyfriend.

He knew this was all part of a dreamscape. The young woman’s relationship was nothing but illusion, and her boyfriend might not even be a real soul—perhaps just a fabricated figure meant to dream alongside her.

Even so, Mu Sichen wasn’t comfortable with how it had played out. Whether it was tearing apart an illusory couple or rejecting her advances outright, either way, he couldn’t help but feel that maybe he could have handled it differently.

And it was precisely that sliver of regret—his and He Fei’s—that the Repentance District seized upon, magnifying it until it became an overwhelming tide.

In the end, they were trapped in an endless spiral of guilt, believing everything was their fault, sinking into despair, yearning for release.

And once they fell into that state… they would walk straight into the pillar’s trap, becoming nothing more than its food.

Even after figuring all that out, Mu Sichen was still a little unsettled.

The more he thought about it, the more this ability resembled Shen Jiyue’s, not the Butterfly’s.

Making people dream, trapping them in blissful illusions—that was Butterfly’s specialty.

But amplifying emotions without limit? That sounded exactly like “Mental Domination.”

So why was Shen Jiyue’s power manifesting here in Dream Butterfly Town?

Mu Sichen couldn’t make sense of it, so he decided to shelve the thought.

Right now, his opponent wasn’t Shen Jiyue but the pillar. He still needed to gather clues, locate the pillar, and—if possible—find a way to cut off the causal chain and save the others trapped inside.

For the moment, he knew two things for certain:

Everyone had to complete a daily task.

There were items like the Sentence-Reduction Card.

If the tasks were tied to feelings of release, then they had to be connected to the pillar’s feeding ground.

“What’s your daily task?” Mu Sichen asked He Fei.

He Fei wrapped the gauze tighter around his face before answering:

“They told me to throw out the garbage from the swimming pool after it closes at five.”

“All tied to the pool? Mine’s cleaning the locker room. Let’s go together,” Mu Sichen said.

It was already past five, so the two of them set out.

The moment they stepped outside, they ran into the “Friendly Big Brother” from 4014.

This was the very same man who had poisoned He Fei. And yet, upon seeing that He Fei was still alive, the man didn’t look shocked at all—he looked relieved. His face lit up, and with tears welling in his eyes, he rushed forward, threw his arms around He Fei, and patted his back like a long-lost friend.

“You’re okay! You’re still okay—thank God! I’m so glad!”

“Hey, hey, what the hell are you doing!” He Fei shoved him off and jabbed a finger at his chest.

“You’re the one who spiked my soda! How the hell do you still have the nerve to hug me? We’re not even close! And shouldn’t you explain why that cola was poisoned?”

Mu Sichen didn’t interfere—he wanted to observe how the residents here behaved.

Up close, he noticed something odd: despite the sweltering heat, “Friendly Big Brother” was bundled up in thick clothing. Beneath the sleeve and at the collar, Mu Sichen glimpsed faint scars on his skin—like knife cuts.

The man wiped at his tears, and even though He Fei glared daggers at him, he still beamed with relief.

“It was my fault—I mixed them up. The poisoned cola was meant for me, not you. I had just gotten back from a game when I realized I’d given you the wrong bottle. I was about to check on you, terrified you’d actually drunk it. Seeing you safe now—ah, I can finally breathe.”

He Fei’s facial muscles twitched uncontrollably.

“…Wait. You mean that cola was supposed to be for yourself?”

“Friendly Big Brother” nodded gravely.

“You should know, anyone sent to the Repentance District is guilty of something. I once committed a terrible crime. I can’t live with myself—I’ve been drowning in guilt every single day.”

“I don’t deserve to go on living. So I decided to punish the wicked—with my own death. That’s why I went out of my way to get that ‘one-sip-and-you-die’ cola.”

“But I… I made a mistake. I gave it to you by accident. If you haven’t drunk it, can you give it back to me? Even if I don’t have the courage to drink it, I can’t let it end up in the wrong hands.”

He Fei scratched his head awkwardly. The cola was long gone—already inside him.

“Uh… I already threw it away. It shouldn’t pollute the sewer system, right?”

“It won’t,” Friendly Big Brother said. “The sewer has so much water, the poison will be diluted. Without considering dosage, you can’t even talk about toxicity. Wonderful—so I didn’t accidentally hurt anyone. What a relief.”

He exhaled, visibly unburdened.

“Tonight, I’ll finally have a good dream.”

With that, he smiled in contentment, turned, and went back inside.

Just before his door shut, Mu Sichen stole a quick glance into the room. On the table directly across from the door, he spotted an entire row of cola bottles lined up neatly.

“What the hell is this!” He Fei exclaimed. “I almost got poisoned, and it turns out to be just a misunderstanding? I had my g-un out already—I was ready to rid the world of scum!”

Mu Sichen only chuckled.

“That’s probably the norm here in the Repentance District. I’d bet incidents of nearly killing someone by mistake happen constantly. You’re trouble-prone—better keep your guard up.”

“No way… isn’t this more like the Misfortune District than the Repentance District?” He Fei grumbled.

As they walked toward the indoor swimming pool, Mu Sichen laid out his reasoning.

“So, the point for Friendly Big Brother isn’t that he tried to kill me—it’s that he failed to. By not killing me, he gets a sense of relief?” He Fei gasped after listening. “Isn’t that kind of happiness and release a little… twisted?”

“Utterly twisted,” Mu Sichen agreed. “Think back to when my eye was injured. What would you have done if I hadn’t purified you in time?”

He Fei shivered at the memory, rubbing his arms as goosebumps rose.

“…I wanted to dig out one of my eyes to make it up to you.”

“That’s self-harm for the sake of release,” Mu Sichen said. “And judging by the knife scars on Friendly Big Brother’s arms and neck, he’s probably done something similar.”

“So the poisoned cola really was a mistake?” He Fei asked.

Mu Sichen shook his head.

“Not necessarily. It could’ve been deliberate.”

“I saw his table—over a dozen bottles of cola were all lined up. Think about it: if someone really had a single poisoned bottle, would they buy a bunch of identical ones from the same brand?”

“Of course not!” He Fei said immediately. “What if they mixed them up?”

“Exactly. Stocking so many identical bottles is a setup—it’s meant to make a mix-up happen.”

He Fei frowned. “But… why?”

“My guess is the method of achieving release is gradually changing,” Mu Sichen explained.

“At first, like what you wanted to do, it’s self-harm—giving up an eye to feel relief.”

“But as the sense of repentance deepens, self-harm alone stops working. That’s when it shifts into the ‘accidental harm’ phase.’”

“For example, mixing a poisoned cola in with normal ones, then casually handing one to someone. He himself doesn’t know if it’s lethal or not. Afterwards, he can wallow in guilt—then, when he sees you alive, he gets that rush of relief. That’s accidental-harm release, and it’s far more aggressive.”

“I really drank the poisoned one,” He Fei muttered. “If I didn’t have my skill, I’d be dead. What if he actually does kill someone one day?”

Mu Sichen gave a small, wry smile.

“That’s the subtlety of the Repentance District. Don’t forget—you’re all ‘sinners.’”

“If he confirmed your criminal record after the fact, he’d convince himself that he was just purging evil. And he’d still get his release.”

“…So this ‘release’ has to be obtained in ways like that?” He Fei asked bitterly.

“Exactly. Twisted to the core,” Mu Sichen said. “That’s why we need to be careful. I suspect our tasks are riddled with the same hidden dangers—each one tied to repentance and release.”

As they spoke, the two passed by the basketball court. Suddenly, a basketball came hurtling straight toward He Fei’s head.

He Fei hadn’t noticed it yet, but from Mu Sichen’s angle it was easy to spot. Quick-eyed and fast-handed, he shoved He Fei down just in time.

The ball whizzed past where He Fei’s head had been and slammed heavily into a wall, smashing a gaping dent into it.

He Fei: “…Am I watching anime right now? Since when can a basketball punch a hole in a wall? Was that a cannonball or a basketball?!”

At that moment, a burly man jogged over to retrieve the ball. Wearing an apologetic smile, he said to He Fei, “Sorry, sorry, my hand slipped. It’s such a relief you’re okay.”

He Fei couldn’t be bothered to argue whether it had been intentional or not. He just waved him off and said, “It’s fine, go on.”

The big man happily carried the ball away.

Mu Sichen sighed. “One person’s field of vision is limited. We’d better stick together, keep an eye on each other.”

Still shaken, He Fei nodded. “Tell me… how many more times am I going to hear people say, ‘It’s such a relief you’re okay’?”

Mu Sichen’s expression grew heavy.

“Probably… a lot more times.”

 

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