C74 — The Dream-Devouring Butterfly

Mu Sichen finally enjoyed a few peaceful days of rest.

After absorbing the power of the butterfly totem, the countdown on his game pod reappeared—once again, a week-long timer.

Worried that this break was actually another death countdown, he found himself caught between wanting to rest and dreading the possibility of returning to an apocalyptic wasteland in the otherworld after seven days.

To ease his concerns, Mu Sichen contacted the app’s customer service.

The response was reassuring: the seven-day period was the system’s optimal time for a player to recover their psychological state. It was designed to give players enough time to fully regain their mental strength without letting them relax too much or lose their sense of urgency.

Since the system had already promised to stand with him through thick and thin, its attitude had become much more sincere. This put Mu Sichen at ease, and he made plans with his teammates to enter the game together at 3 PM on Sunday.

For the next week, Mu Sichen focused on making money. On one screen, he farmed gear and power-leveled in online games; on another, he played mobile games as a paid companion, determined to recover the funds he had lost during his adventures.

Then, an unexpected surprise occurred.

At first, the little octopus simply perched on his shoulder, watching him play with an intensely serious expression, as if studying something.

But when Mu Sichen returned from the restroom, he saw the octopus holding his phone, its tentacles flying across the screen at lightning speed—and it had just scored a pentakill.

Mu Sichen: “…”

The little octopus’s reaction speed was at least several times faster than his. Its tentacles moved so swiftly they left afterimages on the screen.

When Mu Sichen handed over his phone, the octopus continued its streak—securing MVP after MVP. Except for the occasional bad teammate, it almost never lost a match.

Even more astonishingly, it only used four tentacles to play mobile games.

Mu Sichen, intrigued, opened an online game on his computer and had the octopus help with gathering resources, trading, and farming materials—tedious but steady money-making tasks. After just an hour of watching, the little octopus had completely figured it out.

Three of its tentacles controlled the keyboard and mouse while it continued playing mobile games. It even managed to dual-client a second online game account. Its efficiency was insane.

The most terrifying part? Even while handling three accounts at once, the little octopus still had a free tentacle to occasionally nuzzle Mu Sichen’s face, take a sip of his iced cola, and generally look incredibly relaxed.

Though companion gaming clients were inconsistent, old, well-established online games provided steady income through power-leveling and material trading. As long as one was willing to grind without sleep, it was decent money.

With the octopus’s help, Mu Sichen’s near-empty bank account rapidly filled up again. Even the money the little octopus had spent recently was fully recouped.

Mu Sichen had already resigned himself to taking care of this lazy freeloader forever. He never expected the octopus to start earning its own keep.

Overcome with excitement, he kissed the little blue face on the spot.

Supercharged by the kiss, the octopus pulled off a game-changing team wipe, crushing the enemy team so hard they practically rage-quit.

With his diligent little octopus, Mu Sichen barely needed to work anymore—his computer and phone had both been hijacked.

But Mu Sichen wasn’t the type to exploit his friends. He preferred to share both hardships and victories.

So, he borrowed a laptop from He Fei, created a new online game account, and joined the octopus in farming.

One person, one octopus—working, gaming, eating, and sleeping together.

It was pure bliss.

Meanwhile, He Fei was suffering.

The general manager’s passing completely crushed He Fei’s desire to work. Not wanting to return home, he simply stayed in the dormitory, playing games with Mu Sichen.

Seeing the little octopus’s impressive gaming skills, He Fei was overjoyed and even paid Mu Sichen for a few hours of power leveling. Mu Sichen, in return, only charged him half the usual rate, treating it as a rental fee for the computer.

They played games relentlessly for three days straight. Finally, one day, after witnessing Mu Sichen feeding the little octopus a sip of milk tea, He Fei suddenly shouted, “I can’t stay in this damn dorm anymore!”

Mu Sichen and the little octopus were completely baffled, having no idea what had triggered He Fei’s outburst.

He Fei explained that he couldn’t handle the suffocating atmosphere of the dorm anymore—he wanted to fall in love. With that, he stormed out and started living a life of early departures and late returns.

When Mu Sichen asked what he was up to, He Fei told him that he had met a sweet girl working a part-time job at the mall during the holiday, and he had been going there every day to pursue her.

Just like that, the days passed peacefully until the seventh day arrived.

Everyone got ready. He Fei, though reluctant, even turned down the girl’s invitation for afternoon tea and returned to the dorm to join Mu Sichen. At precisely 3 PM, they all entered the game together.

The weather in Hope Town now perfectly matched the forecast on Mu Sichen’s weather app.

The forecast had indicated light rain in the afternoon, and sure enough, as they entered the town, a gentle drizzle was falling outside, bringing a bit of coolness to the otherwise hot weather.

Inside the library, Ji Xian’an was waiting for them.

“Sorry to keep you waiting,” Mu Sichen said as he walked up to her.

Ji Xian’an closed the book she was reading and shook her head. “It’s fine. I haven’t been idle these past few days either.”

Mu Sichen noticed she had been reading a book titled Methods for Making Fertilizer and asked, “Why are you reading this?”

Ji Xian’an replied seriously, “Didn’t you ask me to look after the town during this time? Your residents are in good mental condition, but without the protection of the ‘Eye of the Sky,’ crop yields this season will definitely decrease. Right now, the town’s population is small, so even with a lower yield, there will still be enough food. But in a few seasons, that might not be the case.”

“Luckily, the library has plenty of books. I’ve been researching ways to increase crop production. Once the basic agricultural issues are resolved, I plan to look into light industry. People can’t keep wearing the same few outfits forever—textile production must be developed.”

“You’re really responsible,” Mu Sichen said, feeling a little guilty.

As the town mayor, he had only been focused on the mental well-being of the townspeople, neglecting their livelihoods.

Thankfully, Ji Xian’an had inherited Qin Zu’s sense of responsibility and was taking care of these issues for him.

“Our An’an is amazing!” He Fei flipped through ‘Methods for Making Fertilizer’ but quickly put it down, his head spinning from all the technical details. The book had inflicted more damage on him than any form of mental corruption. “Honestly, I think An’an is way more responsible than us—she’d make a better mayor.”

Mu Sichen felt the same way.

After all, they were just players—outsiders. Mu Sichen could risk his life fighting god-level monsters for his own survival and for the sake of his real-world existence, but he couldn’t take responsibility for the townspeople’s daily lives.

For players, the future held only two possibilities: either they would die in battle, or they would eventually achieve victory and return to the real world. This town was never meant to be their permanent home.

Ji Xian’an, however, was different—she was someone who would stay in this world forever. She was the one truly suited to manage the town.

Ji Xian’an herself also felt that Mu Sichen and the others were not the best candidates for town management. They would disappear for days at a time whenever they logged out, making them unreliable for building up the town’s infrastructure.

So she nodded and said, “Make me the deputy mayor first. You have to remain the mayor, though. You are the true master of this domain, and the townspeople’s faith must be directed toward you in order to keep the domain stable.”

With a single thought, Mu Sichen announced Ji Xian’an’s appointment as acting mayor, transmitting the message to every townsperson through the three “Pillars.”

Here, making an official announcement as the mayor was almost effortless.

Now that she had taken on the responsibility, it was time to take action.

Ji Xian’an immediately said to Mu Sichen, “Right now, we lack the raw materials and factories needed to produce fertilizer. I’ve read through the first three volumes of The Eye of the Sky’s Observations. It mentions that everything the ‘Eye of the Sky’ once saw while gazing down upon the land has been faithfully recorded, including the details of every town. In the section about Dream Butterfly Town, it specifically states that there used to be a fertilizer factory, cotton fields, and even silkworm farms there.”

“If we can reclaim Dream Butterfly Town, we can solve Hope Town’s immediate crisis.”

Ji Xian’an’s suggestion gave Mu Sichen a strange sense of destiny, as if everything had been preordained.

It was no coincidence that the first town he encountered in this world was Tongzhi Town. The system must have carefully chosen it.

The unique power of the Big-eyed one meant that Tongzhi Town was filled with countless secrets waiting to be uncovered.

The Observations wasn’t just thick—it was massive. The full set contained five volumes, each exceeding 500 pages, proving that the Big-Eyed One must have been an incredibly long-winded entity in life.

The first three volumes focused on objective descriptions of landscapes and geography, but even reading them caused a minor loss of sanity.

Now that Mu Sichen fully controlled the town, he could easily see everyone’s SAN (sanity) values. The townspeople, much like Chi Lian and Cheng Xubo, hovered around 80—mentally stable, with occasional worries but able to regulate themselves.

He Fei, being carefree as always, had an impressively high SAN value of 95, indicating a life free of concerns.

Mu Sichen himself was someone with naturally high sanity, his rationality nearly reaching the perfect score of 100.

But even that couldn’t compare to Ji Xian’an. The last time he logged out, her SAN value had been a staggering 578—a clear testament to the mental resilience she had inherited from Qin Zu’s lineage.

However, when he checked again today, Ji Xian’an’s SAN had dropped to just 492. Reading books related to the ‘Eye of the Sky’ had cost her over 80 SAN points in a short period.

For someone like Chi Lian or Cheng Xubo, such a drastic drop would have driven them completely insane, mutating them into corrupted monsters.

For Mu Sichen or He Fei, it would have pushed them to the brink of a breakdown, making rational thought nearly impossible.

Yet for Ji Xian’an, it was merely a minor inconvenience.

Of course, within the town’s borders, this level of mental corruption could be naturally purified by the “Pillars,” ensuring it wouldn’t pose a significant threat to Mu Sichen’s team.

But that was just the first three volumes.

The fourth volume contained the Big-Eyed One’s descriptions of other god-level entities. The fifth volume, however, was wrapped in a black book cover—just glancing at it induced discomfort, making it impossible to open. Whatever was written inside remained a mystery.

With a casual wave of his hand, Mu Sichen placed the fourth and fifth volumes on an infrequently used bookshelf, imprinting a personal totem on the covers to seal them away. This would prevent anyone from accidentally opening them.

The first three volumes, on the other hand, were placed alongside bedtime stories, kept in a semi-sealed state. Only those with pillar-level strength could read them.

Now that Mu Sichen controlled the town, many things could be accomplished through the “Pillars” alone.

He didn’t even need to study how to manipulate them—whenever he thought of an action, the method naturally appeared in his mind. It was incredibly convenient.

Unfortunately, this ability only worked within the town. The moment he left the range of the Pillars, he was just a level 25 player—one whose level was still lower than that of Cross Pickaxe.

“Coincidentally, our next destination is Dream Butterfly Town,” Mu Sichen said, then turned to Ji Xian’an. “Do you know anything about it?”

Ji Xian’an replied, “Only a little.”

The group gathered in the library, waiting for her to explain.

Since all of them had reached pillar-level strength, they could withstand some of the information. However, Mu Sichen was still worried about potential corruption. To be safe, he used the pillars to create three small self-totems and placed them on the back of their necks, boosting their resistance and preventing SAN loss.

Once everyone was prepared, Ji Xian’an began her explanation.

“Dream Butterfly Town is a low-level town. I’m not sure how exactly the levels are categorized, but I judge a town’s strength by the number of ‘pillars’ it has.”

“The Tongzhi town is one of the weakest, with only three pillars. Dream Butterfly Town is the same, also having just three. In comparison, Chimei Town has five pillars, while Xiangping Town has eight.”

As she spoke, a hint of pride flickered across her face—only to be replaced by dejection.

She suddenly remembered that all of Xiangping Town’s pillars were supported by Admiral Qin alone. The more pillars a town had, the greater the burden on him. They had no right to feel proud of this.

She lowered her head, momentarily unable to continue.

Just then, a blue tentacle extended from behind Mu Sichen.

Today, he was dressed in loose-fitting clothes. Despite it being summer, he wore a hooded outfit, as if hiding something inside the hood.

The tentacle emerged from the hood and gently pressed against Ji Xian’an’s forehead.

“There’s no need to blame yourself,” she heard a solemn yet familiar voice say. “You all understand the truth about the pillars. You would still willingly sacrifice yourselves for Xiangping Town. I merely chose the path with the least loss.”

The voice was calm and indifferent—not comforting, not praising its own sacrifice—just stating a fact. It adhered to Xiangping Town’s long-standing principle: achieving maximum value at the lowest cost.

Ji Xian’an gradually regained her composure. Her SAN stabilized, and her expression grew resolute. “You’re right. Your choice was not wrong for you. But I will also make the choice that is right for me. I will join these ‘fallen ones’ and destroy Xiangping Town’s pillars—to set you free.”

To Ji Xian’an, Mu Sichen and the others were Xiangping Town’s fallen ones.

But this time, she was willing to fall with them.

She continued, “Even though Dream Butterfly Town isn’t highly ranked, it’s one of the most mysterious towns.”

“Our teammates have entered Dream Butterfly Town multiple times, but they could never find its pillars.”

“Unlike the dark and terrifying atmosphere of the Town of the Eye, Dream Butterfly Town seems like a completely normal place. People live happily there. Everyone dies in bliss, and when they do, their bodies don’t remain—they transform into butterflies and dissolve into the town.”

“So far, all the teammates we’ve sent to Dream Butterfly Town have lost contact.”

“The last message we received was from a guardian of the admiral. He said that compared to Xiangping Town, Dream Butterfly Town was their true paradise. No pain, no sorrow—only happiness and a life more normal than anything they’d ever known. He said he was abandoning Admiral Qin and staying in Dream Butterfly Town.”

“After that, Admiral Qin never sent anyone there again.”

“It’s a dream, isn’t it?” He Fei, who had experienced dream invasions before, commented. “Everyone is trapped in a dream, so of course they feel happy and at peace.”

Ji Xian’an nodded. “I know. Admiral Qin knows as well. But he told us that false happiness is far more effective at controlling the mind than real fear.”

“‘We do not fear hardship, but we cannot resist poison wrapped in sugar. Everyone longs too much for a peaceful life.'”

Cheng Xubo added, “So Dream Butterfly Town’s greatest dangers are twofold: first, losing ourselves in the dream, and second, falling into a permanent sleep—what would happen to our bodies in the real world?”

Ji Xian’an explained, “The records mention that the ‘Eye of the Sky’ once gazed upon Dream Butterfly Town, but its vision could not penetrate the realm of dreams. It only saw countless ‘cocoons’ and people sleeping within them.”

“When Admiral Qin sent our teammates to Dream Butterfly Town, he only sent their spirits, leaving their physical bodies behind in Xiangping Town.”

“But that doesn’t mean their bodies were safe. Admiral Qin also said that if the ‘Dream-Devouring Butterfly’ decided to burn everything down with it, it could sever the link between the cocoons and the bodies. The entire town would perish. Even if their bodies were in Xiangping Town, their spirits would die.”

“That’s a serious problem,” He Fei muttered. “A battle where one mistake could wipe out the whole team? How are we supposed to fight that? And the butterfly’s true form exists within the dream, right? That means it can directly attack our minds there.”

“Yes,” Ji Xian’an confirmed. “But there is a way.”

“What is it?” Mu Sichen asked.

Ji Xian’an revealed, “Admiral Qin said that when the butterfly feeds, it also falls into a long, deep dream and won’t wake up for a while. As long as we provide it with enough food, it will enter temporary hibernation.”

“Each time, Admiral Qin would provide food to keep the butterfly asleep for about three days. But we don’t have a way to locate the pillars in just three days.”

“What kind of food?” Mu Sichen frowned.

Ji Xian’an shook her head. “I don’t know.”

Mu Sichen grabbed the little octopus hidden in his hood and asked seriously, “What kind of food? No lying.”

The small octopus pressed a tentacle to Mu Sichen’s forehead. This time, instead of the usual youthful voice, Admiral Qin’s solemn tone echoed in his mind:

“Some insignificant, beautiful memories.”

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