C109 – The Chain of Cause and Effect

In just over an hour, the game group chat was already flooded with messages.

The first ones were from He Fei.

Your Bro Fei: [Detained for 15 days and they didn’t even confiscate my phone. The management in Mengdie Town is kind of lenient.]

Your Bro Fei: [Wow! The lodging in the Confession Complex is really nice—single rooms, about 50–60 square meters, it feels a bit like an apartment.]

Your Bro Fei: [I’m in 4013. The guy next door in 4014, Brother Wang, is really nice. He taught me a lot of things and even gave me a bottle of Coke. Coke tastes amazing!]

Your Bro Fei: [I’ve been poisoned… the Coke was poisoned… help, help me…]

Mu Sichen: “……”

If he hadn’t checked everyone’s status before reading the chat logs—confirming that all the Hope Dependents were still alive—Mu Sichen would’ve been frantic by now.

Sure enough, just a few minutes later, He Fei was lively again, sending messages no more than three minutes apart.

Your Bro Fei: [Good thing I’ve got my skill! “Expel” is awesome, I forced the toxins out of my body like foreign matter!]

Your Bro Fei: [But it left a bullet graze scar on my arm. It hurts, hurts so much! Why can’t my skill trigger with a symbolic tap? Why does it have to hit the target to work?]

Your Bro Fei: [My arm hurts, I won’t be sending messages for now. Gonna lie down and rest.]

After that, no more messages came through.

He Fei’s skill was quite interesting. His revolver, like Mu Sichen’s crossaxe, required striking a target in order to activate its ability.

But while the crossaxe only needed a light tap—easy to control so as not to harm anyone physically—He Fei’s bullets inevitably caused some degree of damage once fired.

Last time, He Fei’s target was the “field of vision” of waiters and customers. As long as the bullet landed anywhere within their sight range, the skill would work, so it didn’t hurt their bodies.

But this time, He Fei had to expel toxins from his own body, which meant he had to shoot a part of himself. The fact that he only ended up with a surface graze was already the best possible outcome.

Mu Sichen chuckled and sent a message.

Mu Sichen: [@Your Bro Fei, why didn’t you just shoot your hair? Hair still counts as part of the body before it falls off. Yours isn’t even short—grab a lock and aim at that.]

Your Bro Fei: [Wouldn’t that leave me with a bald patch? It’d take at least a month to grow back! I’d look awful for a whole month. And I even have a movie date with a pretty girl from the mall tomorrow.]

Mu Sichen: [This is a dream, not your real body.]

Your Bro Fei: [!!! How did I not think of that! Damn, that hurt so bad!]

Your Bro Fei: [Eh? You can send messages now—are you inside the “Pillar” too?]

Mu Sichen: [Yes, I’m here. @Chi Lian, can you see my messages? How are things on your end?]

Until now, the group chat had been dominated by He Fei’s solo act. Chi Lian hadn’t said a word. But once Mu Sichen joined the conversation and tagged her, she finally appeared.

Chi Lian: [Finally managed to bluff my way through. You guys have no idea how close I came just now!]

Chi Lian typed fast, her fingers flying as she tapped out her experience upon arriving at the Shouwang Complex.

She was assigned to unit 9-5-402, directly opposite Ji Xian’an’s door.

As soon as she moved in, the first thing she did was rush to knock on the door of 5-5-302.

This happened to be about an hour after Mu Sichen and the others had left the Ideal Restaurant. According to the agreement, Ji Xian’an should’ve left the restaurant at that time.

Due to the binding force of the causal chain, the moment Ji Xian’an stepped out of the Ideal Restaurant, she was instantly transported by the power of causality to room 5-5-302.

The room was empty, everything the same as when Ji Xian’an had left. She couldn’t help herself—she grabbed a rag and began searching the room again for any traces of blood.

Just then, there came a knock at the door. There was a peephole in the entry door, and through it Ji Xian’an saw Chi Lian standing outside. But to avoid being identified by the taxi driver as an outsider, Chi Lian had disguised herself with a false face—a stranger’s face Ji Xian’an didn’t recognize.

Not knowing who the visitor was, Ji Xian’an instantly transformed her arm into a mechanical weapon, ready to kill and silence the intruder.

She silently positioned herself behind the door, opened it slightly, and raised her mechanical arm.

Fortunately, before she even caught sight of Ji Xian’an, Chi Lian stepped in without any defense and said:

“Sister Jie, quick, check if the corpse is still in the freezer!”

Ji Xian’an’s mechanical arm was already swinging toward Chi Lian’s neck, but upon hearing the voice, she recognized it and managed to stop in time.

Chi Lian also heard the sound. She turned and saw the mechanical arm hovering mere inches from her; her eyes immediately widened in shock.

Stiffly, Chi Lian shifted her body just far enough to move out of the weapon’s range. The two locked eyes, and the air grew unbearably awkward.

But Chi Lian, with her years of experience working in HR, was skilled at diffusing awkward situations. Inspiration struck, and she quickly praised:

“Sister Jue, you’re brilliant! Using your mechanical arm means you won’t leave fingerprints. I must’ve smudged the door with mine when I knocked—hurry, wipe them off for me!”

Cleaning was Ji Xian’an’s weakness. Immediately, she took up the rag with her mechanical arm and wiped the door and handle, erasing the prints.

The tension melted away in an instant.

Chi Lian wiped the sweat from her brow, and the two finally remembered the corpse. They hurried to open the freezer, and there they found it still contained a body—the burly man who had been secretly living in 5-5-302 had been hidden there all along.

“Thank goodness!” Chi Lian exhaled in relief. “The body’s still here. As long as no one discovers it, Sister Ji, you’ll be fine.”

But Ji Xian’an didn’t seem to be looking at the corpse. Instead, she stared at the outside of the freezer.

“So that’s where it was.”

She wiped away a single drop of blood clinging to the edge of the freezer, and finally stopped her relentless cleaning.

It was a peculiar drop of blood—pressed with great force by someone’s finger, leaving behind a clear fingerprint. Likely the killer’s own.

And now, Ji Xian’an had wiped it away.

She dropped the rag, a faint smile of relief appearing on her face, as if freed from a burden.

She explained to Chi Lian:

“I don’t even know what happened to me. From the moment I saw the corpse in this room, one thought consumed me: I had to clean up every trace. After that, I dealt with the body and wiped away the bloodstains. Then I heard Mu Sichen’s voice, and before I could double-check the room, I left.”

“After that, even in the Ideal Restaurant, I couldn’t stop thinking, ‘The blood hasn’t been cleaned yet.’”

 

“It wasn’t until I wiped away this last drop that the voice in my head finally went quiet. I’m free now.”

At that moment, Chi Lian noticed something—on Ji Xian’an’s chest card, another small purple star had appeared, making three in total.

After Ji Xian’an left the Shouwang Complex, the card with the purple stars had disappeared, as though it stayed behind in the “Pillar.” Only upon her return to the Shouwang Complex had the star reappeared.

“When did I get another purple star?” Ji Xian’an asked in puzzlement.

She had originally earned two: one for helping the old man in 1-1-101 carry his box, and one for keeping the cross-dresser’s secret. But when had the third been placed on her?

Chi Lian thought for a moment and said:

“Could it be that when you were unconscious, the person who knocked you out actually asked for your help? Maybe they wanted you to clean the room, and while doing so, they placed a purple star on your card. That’s why you couldn’t stop wiping things down—until you erased the bloodstain that proved the killer’s guilt. Once the task was complete, you stopped.”

“That makes sense,” Ji Xian’an nodded.

The two calmly analyzed the situation inside the room. They concluded that after Ji Xian’an left, no one had discovered the tenant’s death, nor had anyone seen her enter the unit, and there were no cameras at the door.

So, as long as they erased every fingerprint in the room, the case would have nothing to do with Ji Xian’an.

The two searched carefully again, wiped everything clean, locked the door, and left unit 5-5-302.

To be safe, Chi Lian temporarily changed both of their faces. That way, even if someone saw them on the way out, there would be no danger.

Since the complex’s cards weren’t mandatory to wear, Ji Xian’an and Chi Lian simply removed theirs, leaving no one able to identify them.

But as they stepped out of 302, they ran right into the resident of 301, a middle-aged woman with the look of someone who thrived on gossip.

The moment she saw them, a purple star appeared in both Ji Xian’an’s and Chi Lian’s hands at the same time.

Chi Lian instantly understood: they were supposed to hand the stars to this woman, asking her to keep their secret.

However, since they had already changed their faces, there was no need to fear being recognized. So instead of giving her the stars, they simply gave her a brilliant smile, leaving her with the memory of their false faces.

The woman smiled back, but when she realized they didn’t intend to ask for her silence, she actually chased after them as they headed down to the second floor.

“You’re… not planning to ask me for help?” she asked.

Worried she might recognize their voices, Chi Lian resolved to say nothing. She only smiled, shook her head, grabbed Ji Xian’an, and sprinted away.

When the woman didn’t follow further, Chi Lian finally exhaled in relief in a deserted spot. The two decided to keep their false faces until they dealt with the box in 3-4-802, then cancel the skill.

As for the two new purple stars, they couldn’t let them go to waste. So they entrusted them to each other for safekeeping. Ji Xian’an now had four, and Chi Lian had one.

At this point, Chi Lian paused for a while, as if trying to organize the sequence of later events. Mu Sichen chimed in at just the right moment:

[The woman from 301 actually chased after you?]

Chi Lian: [Yes, we were scared to death at the time.]

Mu Sichen reminded her:

[When Ji Xian’an went to deliver the box to 3-4-802, she just happened to run into the cross-dressing man. And when you two left, you just happened to meet the woman from 301. Don’t you think that’s a little too coincidental?]

[You’re right, it is suspiciously coincidental. Could it be that in this complex, whenever someone does something shady, they’re bound to be discovered, and then have to use a purple star to ask someone to keep the secret?] Chi Lian asked.

Mu Sichen: [When the security chief watched the supply truck leave, Ji Xian’an was there too. Later, she speculated that maybe he was transferring a corpse—or something illicit—out of the complex with the truck.]

Chi Lian: [Hearing it like that, it makes sense! I just asked Sister Ji, and she said that when she thought back carefully, she remembered the security chief seemed to have blood on his hand! So Sister Ji actually witnessed him doing something bad as well. If she had questioned him about the blood back then, he probably would’ve given her a purple star too, right?}

Mu Sichen: [That’s what I’d guess. Which means when you go to 3-4-802 for the box, someone will definitely see you as well.]

Chi Lian: -We haven’t even opened the door to 3-4-802 yet…}

3-4-802 was Ji Xian’an’s first completed task. Back then, she had delivered the box entrusted by the old woman from Building 1 to unit 802, where she encountered the cross-dressing man.

She suspected that the box actually contained Ms. Zhao of 802’s corpse. Worried it might be discovered, she was planning to go back to 802 to transfer the body.

After Chi Lian and Ji Xian’an dealt with the fingerprints in 5-5-302, they disguised their faces and rushed to 802. The plan was to use Chi Lian’s “cut and paste” skill to temporarily remove the lock, so they could open the door without leaving a trace and then close it again.

But unexpectedly, the door couldn’t be bypassed by skill. It could only be opened with a key.

Mu Sichen explained to Chi Lian: [That’s the power of the causal chain. Using the key to open the door is a necessary condition. Without the key, even with a Retainer-level ability, you can’t open it. This causal chain forces you to go after the cross-dressing man, who probably has the key to 802.}

Chi Lian: [So that’s how it works.]

Mu Sichen: [And right when you were at a dead end, didn’t another “coincidence” happen?]

Chi Lian: [You guessed it.]

Just as Mu Sichen predicted, when Chi Lian and Ji Xian’an were trying to open 802’s door, the door opposite—801—opened. A middle-aged man carrying trash asked:

“What are you doing?”

“Looking for someone.” Chi Lian pinched her throat, making her voice sharp and thin, different from her normally husky tone, to avoid being recognized.

“Isn’t this Xiao Zhao’s place? She hasn’t been home for days. Why are you looking for her?” the man from 801 asked.

“She borrowed some clothes from me. I came to get them back. I can’t reach her, and the door won’t open,” Chi Lian said in her altered voice. “She told me before she left them at home.”

“Oh, clothes. Then you should go to Building 6, Unit 2, Apartment 702. Her boyfriend Xiao Li lives there, and he has her key.”

“Thank you,” Chi Lian replied.

Under the man’s suspicious gaze, the two hurried downstairs.

Chi Lian: [We just left Building 3 and are heading to Building 6 to find Xiao Li for the key. At last, we’ve tracked down that cross-dressing man. I’m discussing with Sister Ji—we still have a purple star. We’ll use it to entrust him with handling the box. That way, Zhao’s murder has nothing to do with us.]

Chi Lian: [Finally, I feel relieved.]

Mu Sichen scrolled back through the chat logs, reread them carefully, and sent:

[Chi Lian, have you noticed how many times you’ve said words like “relieved” or “finally free”?]

Inside the Shouwang Community, Chi Lian froze. She scrolled up through the logs and saw she had used similar phrases no fewer than five times.

Chi Lian: [You’re right. From the moment I entered this place, I’ve constantly felt like I’m on the verge of being exposed, always looking for ways to cover evidence, always seeking relief.]

Mu Sichen: [Exactly. That “pillar” feeds on the feeling of relief.]

Through Chi Lian’s experience, Mu Sichen finally worked out the true emotion the “pillar” needed.

The butterfly’s appetite hadn’t changed—the “pillar” still absorbed positive emotional energy. But it did so by dragging out people’s darkest impulses.

Normally, after finishing a big exam, completing a difficult task, or achieving a life milestone, people felt a light, joyful sense of relief. This emotion—release, or liberation—was undoubtedly positive.

But the “pillar’s” method of obtaining it was horribly twisted.

It lured people into committing crimes, then constantly arranged for others to discover those crimes, forcing the residents of the complex to cover one crime with another.

Each time a crime was covered up, the person experienced a rush of relief. That emotional energy became nourishment for the “pillar.”

But those who failed to cover up their crimes, who couldn’t provide that emotional energy, were branded as murderers, sacrificed to the pillar, and turned into soul-energy to sustain it.

This “pillar,” under the guise of gathering wrongdoers together for observation, slowly lured them step by step into committing crimes, all to harvest energy.

What was most disturbing was that the so-called “locals” of Mengdie Town—the true souls living there—believed they were being protected. They believed Mengdie Town was happy, and that the Dream Weaver punished only criminals.

The Weaver itself also held this attitude. It thought of itself as great, as the only one capable of protecting the “good” residents of the town.

Even as it devoured the souls of the townsfolk, it claimed to be higher than other god-like monsters—never harming the “good and orderly,” always protecting its people.

But in reality? Cutting in line, spitting on the street—these acts deserved criticism, yes, but they were by no means crimes worthy of imprisonment.

Mengdie Town imprisoned people who committed only small mistakes inside the pillar, then used every method to tempt them into sin. Once others exposed their crimes, it could devour their souls with a clear conscience.

And all the while, the Weaver could proclaim with false righteousness: it was only punishing sinners.

But were these “sinners” truly guilty?

Before entering Shouwang Community, Ji Xian’an was a rational person. Now, she’d been entangled in two murder cases and nearly killed Chi Lian by mistake. She was already trapped in the causal chain of “must hide,” unable to free herself. If it continued, she would kill someone.

And once she killed, she would inevitably be polluted by the pillar, permanently bound to the chain of cause and effect.

Spitting → covering up crimes → becoming a murderer.

Who would have thought that something as small as spitting on the ground could eventually lead someone to kill?

And now, spitting or cutting in line were counted as crimes. What about in the future? Would an argument be enough to brand someone guilty? A simple bump into another on the street—would that send a person into Shouwang Community, where step by step they were forced toward murder?

This was what the butterfly meant when it said it wouldn’t harm the “good locals.”

This was its self-righteousness, its sanctimony.

This was the “happy nation” and “ideal home” it claimed to have created for the residents of Dream Butterfly Town.

Just as Big-Eye described: “In Dreams, There Is an Ideal Home.”

But in truth, it was nothing more than an illusion.

The transport vehicle carrying Mu Sichen stopped. They had arrived at Repentance Community.

The police ordered him off. Mu Sichen no longer had time to chat with Chi Lian.

He quickly sent one last message:

[When you go to 6-2-702 to find Xiao Li, the cross-dressing man, you may ‘coincidentally’ run into another event. No matter what happens, remember this above all— do not kill.]

Because whether Ji Xian’an or Chi Lian, once they killed, they would be trapped in the causal chain with no escape.

A cause involving harm to life could only end with death as its effect.

Even if Mu Sichen managed to seize the pillar and cleanse their corruption, they would still be unable to escape the bondage of cause and effect.

Even if he brought them back to Hope Town, back to the real world, without completing the chain, they would never find relief.

Even if he forcibly saved their lives, the crushing guilt would consume them until they faded away.

Only by fulfilling the “effect” could one be freed.

Just like Ji Xian’an, who had to wipe away the bloodstain on the freezer. Until that mark was gone, she would keep scrubbing endlessly—even to death.

That was the power of the causal chain.

Mu Sichen entered Repentance Community, took the key to Room 5013, and stood downstairs, staring up at the building.

Shouwang Community, Repentance Community—just how many people were caught in life-and-death causal chains inside them?

And if he seized the pillar, cut through those chains… how many lives would be lost as a price?

Could he truly bear so many lives? Could he shoulder such a crushing burden?

 

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TN:

I’M BACKKKKKKK, happy new month 🎉