C102 — Blue

The little tentacle, which had been prepared to be bitten, seemed startled by the kiss. With a whoosh, it shrank back onto Mu Sichen’s shoulder and turned into a small tentacle-shaped tattoo, clinging tightly to his skin.

Mu Sichen smiled. He turned off the faucet and, ignoring the water all over the floor, lay down and fell asleep right there.

He was truly exhausted—so, so tired. All he wanted was a quiet sleep.

Because the tap had been left running during the fight with the bartender, the floor around the bar was soaked, and Mu Sichen’s clothes were completely drenched without him even realizing.

He just lay there, soaking wet.

When He Fei saw Mu Sichen motionless, he hurried over and stared at him for a moment, muttering, “Still won’t give me my ability back. Always trying to act cool. Tired now, huh?”

He Fei took off his own shirt and gave it to Mu Sichen, then helped him up from the wet floor and onto the sofa in the bar so he could rest more comfortably.

Cheng Xubo and the waiter also helped carry Chi Lian to the sofa.

Chi Lian was only slightly damp—much better off than the soaked Mu Sichen. Since she was a girl, Cheng Xubo didn’t feel right changing her clothes, so he just draped his jacket over her.

Even though Cheng Xubo and He Fei hadn’t directly participated in the battle this time, the intensity and danger of what they witnessed had left them mentally drained.

They hadn’t really slept well the night before, and with how much they’d done today, exhaustion finally hit them hard. The group collapsed on the sofas, each in their own awkward position, and fell asleep.

The waiter glanced at each of them, one by one. A strong sense of duty suddenly welled up inside him. Quietly, he stayed by Mu Sichen’s side to stand guard over them all.

Mu Sichen slept deeply—so deeply that even when Lin Wei and others came to move him, he didn’t wake up. He slept through it all.

No one knew… he dreamt of Qin Zu again.

But this time, the palace looked different from before.

The floor of Qin Zu’s palace had once been made of golden marble. Though the palace was vast and empty, the bright, majestic gold made the place feel open and radiant.

Now, however, the floor had somehow turned into dark stone bricks. The entire palace was gloomy. Qin Zu’s throne seemed farther away than before, and the black stone beneath His seat gave the illusion that He was perched above a yawning black chasm—like He was hovering over an abyss, about to fall at any moment.

Mu Sichen stared at the space beneath His feet and remembered the system’s words: Qin Zu had reclaimed the last of the power belonging to the earth.

“Do not gaze into the abyss,” Qin Zu spoke slowly from within the mist. “You’ll be devoured by your own greed.”

“And you?” Mu Sichen asked. “You possess the abyss.”

He looked into the ever-thickening mist, his tone calm and sincere.

Who knew if anyone still spoke to Qin Zu like that, after He had become a god-tier monster?

“I’m fine… for now,” Qin Zu replied evenly.

For now… but that didn’t mean He would always be fine.

A quiet worry bloomed in Mu Sichen’s heart. Then he chuckled at himself—did he even have the right to worry about a being as close to the divine as a god-tier monster?

Still, while he had the chance, he might as well ask what he needed to know.

He immediately asked the question weighing on him most: “Is Zhuo Huaichu using the power of the earth? Didn’t you already reclaim all of it?”

“That was power I stripped away and discarded,” Qin Zu replied. “It exists only externally.”

“Discarded? Why discard it?” Mu Sichen asked. “If I’m not mistaken, once all of the earth’s power is gathered, one can upgrade to Mi Tian, right? Oh… I get it. You don’t want to upgrade. Because once you do, you’ll go completely mad—and Xiangping Town will be destroyed. That’s why you gave up that power, isn’t it?”

“You guessed correctly—but that’s not the whole story,” Qin Zu said.

Mu Sichen gazed into the swirl of mist, waiting for Qin Zu’s explanation.

Qin Zu told him, “That was the power of ‘Germination.’ With it inside me, no matter how hard I suppress desire, ‘Germination’ will force those desires to break through the surface. As long as it remains within, I can never truly become an ‘Absolute Rationalist.’”

“That sounds a bit like the power of ‘Self,’” Mu Sichen remarked.

Qin Zu replied, “It’s very different. ‘Self’ is a balanced whole, a clear and conscious perception. ‘Germination’ is a kind of magnification. It emphasizes one or more specific desires, and the more those desires are suppressed, the more terrifying they become when ‘Germination’ bursts forth. It can devour the whole—so much so that even a ‘god’ can hardly control it.”

Hearing this, Mu Sichen finally understood why, after Yang Yunyun and Chi Lian both drank the ‘Origin of All Things,’ their reactions had been so drastically different.

Because the desires they had suppressed were different.

Yang Yunyun was very thin. She had suppressed her appetite for years to maintain her figure, and under social, moral, and self-imposed pressure, had also repressed her yearning for emotional connection.

The stronger the repression, the more terrifying the backlash.

‘Germination’ caused her hunger and longing to grow without limit—until they devoured her entirely.

Chi Lian, on the other hand, was someone who satisfied herself.

When she wanted to eat, she ate heartily regardless of weight gain, then exercised to burn the energy. She wasn’t as thin as Yang Yunyun—her figure had small imperfections—but she didn’t mind.

She also freely expressed her emotions—crying when sad, laughing when happy, acting on her curiosity by digging up data until she was satisfied.

When she wanted to date, she did—though none of the relationships lasted in the end, she didn’t dwell on regret.

All these factors meant that ‘Germination’ couldn’t take root and grow within her. But that didn’t mean it never would—it just grew much more slowly than in Yang Yunyun.

That slowness gave Chi Lian time—to meet Mu Sichen, and to receive the power of ‘Self.’

Two girls with similar pasts walked down very different paths.

“So Zhuo Huaichu must be a Hidden Star,” Mu Sichen said.

But Qin Zu shook his head. “‘Germination’ alone wasn’t enough to make him a Hidden Star. Its power was insufficient—otherwise I wouldn’t have discarded it. I sealed it in a small town that held the power of the Sky. Zhuo Huaichu obtained it and nurtured it to full growth.”

“The Sky…” Mu Sichen remembered that the Origin Totem contained not just symbols of the Earth, but also of the Sky and the Sea. “Don’t tell me Zhuo Huaichu absorbed the other two powers too?”

Qin Zu: “The other powers he absorbed were more mixed. He didn’t seize them from any specific Hidden Star—instead, he absorbed them from various Devoted Ones. ‘Germination’ has the power to grow. Using it as his root, he forcibly absorbed these powers and became a top-tier Hidden Star. But his power is too chaotic—he can’t become a ‘Sun-Shrouder.’”

Mu Sichen thought of his own ‘Stealing Foundations’ skill. He realized he too could take power from other Devoted Ones, but he’d never used it that way. Instead, he avoided clashing with others directly and focused the ability solely on the ‘Pillars.’

The same power of “transfer” was used very differently by Mu Sichen and Zhuo Huaichu.

Zhuo Huaichu transferred the Devoted Ones’ powers into himself, while Mu Sichen seized and claimed their domains. It was impossible to say who was right or wrong in this—after all, Mu Sichen hadn’t yet reached the end, and he didn’t know where his own future would lead.

Zhuo Huaichu had gone to great lengths to meet him—but for what reason, Mu Sichen couldn’t be sure.

Jealousy? Maybe. Interest in another player? Possibly.

But the real reason, most likely, was that Zhuo Huaichu couldn’t become a Sun-Shrouder on his own.

Mu Sichen didn’t mean to boast, but if even the Butterfly could challenge the Abyss after acquiring the power of Self, then perhaps Zhuo Huaichu believed that by devouring Mu Sichen or stealing his power, he might reach that threshold too.

“When I reach Origin Town, Zhuo Huaichu will probably try to devour me—or steal my power,” Mu Sichen murmured to himself.

He had witnessed Zhuo Huaichu’s strength—this senior player was indeed powerful. Mu Sichen wasn’t sure he could win.

“My chances of victory feel… incredibly low.” He sighed.

“That’s why you need to seize control of Dream Butterfly Town as soon as possible—and take command of the dream space,” Qin Zuu said. “Once you do that, you can temporarily trap Germination within a dream and begin to reverse its power.”

No wonder the system had chosen Dream Butterfly Town as his second stronghold—the Butterfly clearly held an extraordinary power.

Thinking of this, Mu Sichen couldn’t help but glance at Qin Zu with concern:

“You crossed domain boundaries to intervene in the battle between the Butterfly and the Abyss. Did that come at a huge cost? Wouldn’t maintaining that state for too long exhaust you?”

From the mist came a faint, low chuckle—so brief that Mu Sichen wasn’t sure if he had imagined it.

“Crossing domains to interfere with the Abyss and the Butterfly should’ve been difficult,” Qin Zu replied. “But what if the Butterfly summoned me personally—pleaded for my aid?”

“Don’t forget, I just reclaimed the power of the Sea of Resentment.”

The Butterfly summoned Qin Zu personally? The Sea of Resentment …

Mu Sichen suddenly understood what Qin Zu meant.

No wonder the Butterfly had dared to challenge the Sun-Shrouder known as the Abyss—it had aid.

This must’ve been a deliberate move.

The power of Self, the Sea of Resentment, and the chance to become a Sun-Shrouder—three temptations, laid out like bait.

No wonder the Butterfly willingly abandoned Dream Butterfly Town to go to Abyss Town.

If it could become a Sun-Shrouder, then giving up an entire town wouldn’t matter. It could simply seize the much larger Abyss Town—and gain the power to absorb other sea-themed towns.

Still, even if it managed to consume the Abyss, the Butterfly wouldn’t want to lose Dream Butterfly Town. That was why Nie Yihai, upon meeting Mu Sichen, tried to trap him in the Ideal Restaurant. When that failed, and Mu Sichen drove him out, he left behind pollution in frustration—hoping to stop him from claiming the town.

“But… the Butterfly couldn’t have contacted you first, could it?” Mu Sichen asked.

“You must’ve reached out to the Butterfly yourself—offered terms to make it summon you. But how did you make contact?”

“The Butterfly should’ve still been within its domain, inside the dream space. Did you use the townspeople of Xiangping Town, who were trapped in Dream Butterfly Town, to reach the Butterfly?”

Even as he asked, Mu Sichen felt that Qin Zu wouldn’t use Xiangping Town’s people like that.

Contacting the Butterfly through a townsperson would almost certainly mean that person’s death.

Qin Zu might respond to a Devoted One’s summoning, but he wouldn’t descend on his own to take the life of a townsperson.

This time, Qin Zu said nothing.

From the mist, an invisible tendril extended and gently tapped the center of Mu Sichen’s forehead—

as if to stroke, or to remind him.

Mu Sichen held his forehead, and suddenly remembered—back when he had used the golden-threaded glasses to peer at the Butterfly Totem, the Butterfly had noticed him, and Qin Zu had caught a butterfly in his dream.

“It was me?” Mu Sichen pointed at himself and asked.

Qin Zu didn’t respond, but the lack of denial meant his guess was correct.

Mu Sichen never would’ve imagined that every single thing that had happened to him would trigger such a long chain of consequences.

And that these god-level monsters were using those events to fulfill their own purposes.

Compared to beings like them, Mu Sichen felt insignificant; whether in terms of power or cunning, he was far too lacking.

“Can I really help you?” he asked, raising his head toward Qin Zu.

Qin Zu replied:

“If I go mad, there are three possible outcomes when you face me:

One, you kill me.

Two, you use the power of Self to wake me up.

Both will prevent me from bringing disaster to the world.

Three, you get devoured by me. I gain the power of Self and rise above the skies—beyond Mitian.”

In other words—no matter what, I win.

Surprisingly, Mu Sichen didn’t feel afraid or upset at Qin Zu’s blunt admission that he might devour him for power. In fact, he felt strangely at peace.

Maybe it was because the schemes of all those other god-level beings made him appreciate Qin Zu’s honest ambition more—how he was so frank and upright in everything he did, even when it was terrifying.

Or maybe, it was because from the moment he entered the game, Mu Sichen owed Qin Zu far too much.

If he couldn’t help him in the end, then letting Qin Zu take him as interest payment didn’t seem like such a terrible thing.

His conversation with Qin Zu had answered many of his questions. He had nothing more to ask right now, yet he didn’t want to leave—so he simply stayed, staring blankly into the mist of the palace.

“You should wake up,” Qin Zu reminded him coldly.

Mu Sichen felt a powerful force starting to push him out of the palace. He quickly called out,

“Wait—I have one more question!”

The force paused, as if waiting for his question.

Mu Sichen wanted to ask if Qin Zu could give him another little octopus, but when the words reached his lips, he felt too embarrassed. So instead, he changed it and asked:

“The little octopus… why was it blue? Shouldn’t the power of Earth not be that color?”

As soon as he asked, Mu Sichen felt like slapping himself. Why did he ask such a pointless question?

To his surprise, Qin Zu let out a soft sigh.

And in a voice filled with longing—unlike any tone Mu Sichen had ever heard from him before—Qin Zu replied:

“Because before the Cataclysm, the planet I lived on… was blue.”

 

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TN:

I’m living off crumbsssssss

We love QZ, the chemistry 🤏🤏