C127 — Reorganization
by UntamedSMu Sichen’s state at this moment was strange.
He still had consciousness, but it was fragmented. Each small block carried a simple, singular awareness, unable to form a coherent whole.
His “Laziness” blocks gathered together with a group of other “Laziness” black blocks, constantly sending out the same question:
“Without comfortable laziness, what’s the point? Why, even when we are lazy, do we not feel relaxed? Where is ‘leisure’? Where is it?”
Compared to the other “Laziness” blocks, his were unusually active because they were protected by self-totems.
This vitality gradually spread to the other “Laziness” blocks, and they all began broadcasting the same question: “Where is leisure?”
Without leisure, what meaning did laziness even have?
From what Ji Xian’an and Mu Sichen had learned through repeatedly supplementing other black blocks of the same negative emotion, the negative emotions on the Path of Transformation existed in swarms.
One person’s “Laziness” may be weak, but when many “Laziness” blocks gathered together, their collective voice could influence the “leisure” they sought.
It wasn’t just “Laziness”—other emotions were also roaring.
“Jealousy” sought “Ambition,” “Admiration,” “Aspiration.”
“Possessiveness” sought “Love” or “Family.”
“Paranoia” sought “Focus.”
Every emotion had two sides; every negative emotion had a corresponding positive counterpart.
The “Selfish” blocks Mu Sichen deliberately released were extraordinary. They wanted everything. A swarm of “Selfishness” called out for all other emotions in the tiles—positive or negative, they wanted them all.
The “Rebellious” blocks spread questions like, “Why are we stuck in these tiles?” or “Why are you lying in the sea?”
Whether it was scientific theories like quantum entanglement or superstition like the “Three Souls and Seven Spirits,” every system agreed on one thing: forcibly separated spirits were still connected. Even across vast distances of time and space, they longed for one another.
The black blocks kept leaping, and their calls somehow reached the white blocks.
And among the white blocks, there was Mu Sichen. All of his white blocks had their self-totems lit, endlessly shouting in the boundless Pure White Sea:
“We should be whole!”
“Incomplete things are not perfect!”
“Imperfect things are not beautiful enough!”
Instinct and self had always been suppressed by the rules. Give them even a spark, and they could ignite.
Mu Sichen’s fragmented consciousness felt like a single droplet merging into the torrent of countless emotions. He was part of the storm, part of the leap out of the tiles.
Although his consciousness was meant to be divided, the presence of the self-totems allowed him to transmit the “Self” he initially placed within the totems to every block.
As the crossaxe carved Mu Sichen’s line of words into the sky with all its strength, all of Mu Sichen’s blocks echoed a single word:
“Self! Self! Self!”
All the chaotic voices, called together by the self-totems, coalesced into a single word—Self.
Under this unified call, a massive self-totem emerged above the Pure White Sea.
Under the call of the self-totem, the white and black blocks converged from all directions, assembling atop the totem into a humanoid shape.
It was Mu Sichen.
The Dependent, whose entire body of emotions was trembling, gazed at the Pure White Sea and witnessed a sight never before seen.
No one had ever appeared in the Pure White Sea carrying black blocks—never!
“How is this possible?” A flicker of shock and doubt appeared in the Dream Dependent’s otherwise calm eyes.
In response to his surprise, dozens of “Doubt” blocks broke free from the control of the Path of Transformation and rushed toward him.
These were the Dream Dependent’s original “Doubt,” emotions that had been trapped within the Path of Transformation.
“Doubt” longed to return to its body. They pushed with all their might, displacing dozens of white blocks that didn’t belong to the Dream Guardian and forcing their way back.
“How can this be?” the Dream Dependent struggled, “Filth… I’ve already purified myself, so why does this ‘filth’ return? Who is this fallen one? He’s terrifying…”
The thought of “terrifying” immediately summoned dozens of “Fear” blocks, which pushed out more white blocks not belonging to this soul.
The changes cascaded like dominoes—once started, the chain could not stop.
More and more black blocks surged toward the Dream Dependent. White blocks that had been under his control leapt into the Path of Transformation, seeking the emotions that truly belonged to them.
“How can this be?” The Dream Dependent’s faith began to collapse. He clutched his body and knelt, praying, “Great Dreamweaver, my Lord, please save me! Purify me again and grant me peace.”
“Your god is being pounded by the deep sea,” Mu Sichen said lightly from atop the totem.
With a casual gesture of his hand, the crossaxe that had been furiously writing in the sky returned to Mu Sichen’s hand—and immediately hammered his head in a rapid series of strikes.
Although its “Hammer Sichen” title had been deleted, the crossaxe still liked to hit Mu Sichen. Forced into labor, it wanted energy—it was eager to split open that expanse of Pure White Sea.
“Stop! Stop! Stop!” Mu Sichen covered his head, dodging the crossaxe’s blows. “All the coolness I just created is gone—give me some face!”
He had painstakingly reassembled his body like a savior, ready to seize the “Pillar” in one smooth motion—this was supposed to be a double thrill! Why was the crossaxe ruining it?
Even in the midst of reassembling his body, Mu Sichen couldn’t help but make a small joke in his mind.
Finally, the crossaxe sulked and stopped, transforming into a massive drill, hovering above Mu Sichen like it was ready to strike wherever he pointed.
Embarrassed, Mu Sichen said, “I’ve run out of energy.”
The crossaxe froze.
Mu Sichen continued, “I only had 40,000 energy points to begin with. I just barely transmitted over 3,000 micro-energy units, each costing 10 points. Now I have only 460 left. Not enough to attack the ‘Pillar,’ not even enough to strike the Dream Dependent.”
The crossaxe “…”
The “Pillar” of the Gate of Dawn stood right beneath Mu Sichen’s feet, but he lacked the energy to take it. What could he do?
“However, this time the way I occupied the ‘Pillar’ is different,” Mu Sichen said. “Previously, I would first take over the ‘Pillar’ and then convert the people inside into my ‘Followers.’ This time, I reversed the process.”
This time, he first used “Self” to infect all the small blocks, lighting self-totems in most of them, before preparing to deal with the “Pillar.”
Mu Sichen reached out his hand and said to the small blocks below, “Please give me a little trust, and I will return your ‘Self.’”
At first, the blocks seemed only to hop around on their own, ignoring his request entirely, making the scene awkward.
But after Mu Sichen had waited, hands spread, for ten minutes, the system’s voice finally sounded in his mind:
[Trust value has reached 10%. Exchange it for energy?]
“Exchange!” Mu Sichen immediately replied.
Suddenly, the tiny energy values accumulated bit by bit from countless small blocks—0.2, 0.5, 0.6—poured into the crossaxe.
All the crossaxe’s repeated hammering was finally rewarded. The effort it had expended returned to it tenfold.
Its pointed tip spun violently downward, creating a massive water vortex in the sea. Countless small white blocks were swept up, clearing the “droplets” from the entire area of the sea, exposing the dream totem at the bottom.
The protective energy around the totem was drained, and the totem was left entirely unshielded, pierced straight through by the pickaxe, now spinning like a meteor.
“Self,” Mu Sichen whispered.
The dream totem on the seabed began to transform from its center. The brain once wrapped by the butterfly gradually reshaped into a pair of hands resembling wings, while the butterfly’s intricate patterns decomposed into symbols of sky, ocean, and earth.
The brain, once governed by the butterfly, became hands instead, now encasing the three symbols of power.
This totem merged with the one beneath Mu Sichen’s feet, forming a massive totem that covered the entire sea.
Mu Sichen whispered again: “Purify.”
Along with this force, countless self-totems appeared on the ground, sending out transparent lines connecting different blocks. These were the spiritual lines linked by “Self.” No matter how fragmented a soul was, as long as the “Self” remained, the soul could always reunite.
The small blocks instantly found their proper places, flying toward their own totems and gathering into incomplete human forms.
The white blocks of these people had been absorbed by the “Pillar,” and many black blocks had been destroyed by intruding fallen ones attempting to damage the “Pillar.” It was difficult for these individuals to form complete beings.
Beside Mu Sichen, a red totem larger than the smaller ones on the ground appeared, gradually forming Ji Xian’an’s body atop it.
In the end, Ji Xian’an’s body was fully restored, with only a small gap remaining in the center of her brow. Mu Sichen took out “Sacrifice 1” from the system’s inventory and gently placed it on her brow, filling the final gap.
“If you want to see the central square of Xiangping Town, go yourself,” Mu Sichen said. “Our town is made up of people who are the ultimate ‘Self.’ No one can replace you.”
The buttons he had undone earlier remained open, letting the sea wind flutter his coat and reveal the sigils on his chest—symbols of a promise still unfinished.
Ji Xian’an opened her eyes and said to Mu Sichen, “I had a very long, long dream.”
She dreamed of wandering through a vast ocean of beauty, filled with joy and delight—but this endless happiness had grown monotonous, even boring.
She had been trapped in the sea and the tiles, unable to break free, yet she knew she had been waiting for something—a voice to awaken her.
When that voice shouting “Self” rang deep within her soul, she leapt with joy, pouring out all her strength, shouting in unison with that voice.
“Why were you able to create such a ‘miracle’?” Ji Xian’an asked, unable to understand.
She had fully prepared herself to walk toward sacrifice. She had witnessed countless sacrifices before, but never with such clarity as this time.
She knew what she was doing. She knew her actions weren’t meaningless death, nor was she just a simple tool. Every move, every sacrifice she made was meant to pass on “hope.”
She felt no regret. She walked willingly toward death.
Yet, unexpectedly, at the very last moment, the spark of “hope” she left behind created a miracle.
“The miracle wasn’t me,” Mu Sichen said softly, looking at the fragmented but joyful people on the ground. “It’s always been you all. I only took a gamble—betting on the backbone of those who’ve lived in this world without giving up.”
“What if you failed?” Ji Xian’an asked. “How could you dare to gamble like this?”
“When there is only one path in front of you, there’s no need to consider whether the future ends in failure or victory. There’s only one way: go forward with everything you have,” Mu Sichen said.
“It’s fortunate… they still have backbone,” Ji Xian’an smiled.
Fortunate?
Mu Sichen recalled his journey up to this point—it seemed every step was a gamble. He had been betting that his judgment was correct, wagering on the last sliver of hope, and each time, he had been lucky enough to succeed.
But he realized it wasn’t luck—it was effort.
Hundreds of millions of attempts, millions of efforts, all finally producing a single “opportunity.”
Like a lottery box where only one slip was drawn, the only way to be chosen by chance was to fill all slips in the box with “effort.”
Of course, this effort wasn’t his alone—it was the system’s.
The system had run trillions of trials, finally arriving at this one opportunity.
“I understand what you are now,” Mu Sichen said in his mind.
[Congratulations, player. You have successfully reached Level 50 and can handle some truths.]
Was this a prompt for him to continue expanding his thoughts?
Mu Sichen smiled and spoke to the system in his mind:
“I used to think you were the self-preservation consciousness of the real world. You discovered flaws in reality and wanted to protect it, so you kept selecting capable players to guard the world.”
[Partially correct.]
“But as I gradually learned about the histories of different god-level monsters, I realized you have long existed in this world and have even participated in many events. You don’t only care about the real world—you also care about the lives in this world.”
[Player is approaching the correct answer.]
“As long as pollution exists, so do you. You travel through different worlds continuously, trying to find a way to stop its spread. Just as every negative emotion has a positive counterpart, you exist as a counter to pollution.
Wherever there is pollution, there is something to resist it.”
[Answer correct, but no reward.]
“Am I the luck you’ve been waiting for?” Mu Sichen asked.
[Unclear. In the past billions of years, the system has seen god-level monsters far stronger than the player. They towered above everything, yet eventually fell.]
[The player is very weak—the weakest. Without choosing divinity, you cannot withstand even a god’s gaze.]
[Yet the player seems exceptionally capable of creating miracles.]
[The system does not know how far the player can go, but it promises: I will accompany you until the very last moment before the world’s end.]
“I will try my best,” Mu Sichen said.
As purification continued, most of the blocks in the Pure White Sea returned to their original places, revealing the deep blue ocean beneath.
“So there really is a sea,” Mu Sichen said, gazing at the surface. He opened his “Eye of Reality” to observe the waters.
Suddenly, his left eye ached, and the “Eye of Reality” was forcibly shut.
Mu Sichen covered his eye as the images he had just seen replayed in his mind.
On the seabed, a pile of white blocks lay quietly. They looked slightly larger than the other small blocks.
These blocks seemed ownerless, their true forms yet to be found.
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