C78 — “Expulsion”

He Fei had joked that his luck was terrible—that just by randomly hailing a cab, he’d stumbled into a “Pillar.” But in truth, it was only self-deprecation.

The reality was, no matter which taxi they flagged down, or even if they’d taken the subway, or just walked on foot, they were all likely to encounter a warm, friendly fake soul like the taxi driver, who would casually chat them up—and “coincidentally” hand them three free meal vouchers.

The problem wasn’t the taxi He Fei chose.

The real trigger that led them into the “Pillar” was the question:

“Are you locals or from out of town?”

Normally, if they had truly come from Xiangping Town or some other place on a mission, their instinctive answer would be, “We’re locals.”

Why? Because of guilt and fear.

Fear that the souls of Dream Butterfly Town might discover their true identity—so they’d lie, denying their origins to avoid suspicion.

But Dream Butterfly Town was fundamentally different from other towns.

The real “residents” of Dream Butterfly Town were trapped inside cocoons by Butterfly. Their physical bodies in reality were not free. Mu Sichen didn’t even know whether the town’s followers or fake souls could sense where their true bodies were.

If those fake souls could tell who was truly local and who wasn’t, then pretending to be a local would only backfire —raising the town’s alert level instantly.

Dream Butterfly Town’s layout wasn’t fixed.

The streets weren’t fixed.

Even the locations of the Pillars weren’t fixed.

A dream could be vast enough to take three days and nights to cross, or small enough that the moment you got out of a car, you were standing at the doors of the Ideal Restaurant—and no matter where you walked, you couldn’t leave its range.

In a place like this, if the town’s “residents” thought you were lying—pretending to be a local when you were clearly not—then there was no way they’d let you get close to any important “Pillar.”

There was only one ending for those people:

They’d wander endlessly in Dream Butterfly Town, searching in vain, until either the souls around them gradually polluted and assimilated them into real “locals,”

or…

they’d hold out until the Butterfly awakened and be executed as a Fallen.

Just like the four players Mu Sichen had met at the very beginning.

Only by honestly admitting they were “outsiders” tricked into coming by someone from Dream Butterfly Town—presenting themselves as naïve and gullible—would the “residents” lower their guard and view them as harmless suckers.

That way, they’d get offered up to the “Pillars” as snacks.

After all, the operation of a Pillar surely required soul energy.

So why sacrifice a local when you could first feed on outsiders?

This mindset was something Mu Sichen had only come to fully understand after becoming the mayor of his own town.

Now, whenever he saw residents with Self Totems—even if they looked bizarre, with things like eye-covered tentacles, dragonfly eyes, palms for faces, or tongues with blinking eyes—he still felt a genuine warmth toward them.

Of course, in the eyes of god-level monsters, all humans were just ants—expendable resources.

But even ants raised for medicinal purposes were treated better than wild ants that just wandered in.

Your own town’s people were treasures.

Outsiders? They were just weeds.

So once they entered a “Pillar,” they were always going to be the ones used first.

Mu Sichen quietly explained all of this to his two companions.

Chi Lian looked stunned. “There’s so much going on behind the scenes… So what should we do?”

“Take it step by step.” Mu Sichen responded. “For now, just don’t eat the restaurant’s food, no matter what.”

He took the three free meal vouchers and tried to store them in his Inventory.

The system notified Mu Sichen: this isn’t a real-world item, but a dream object—it can’t be stored in your inventory.

Left with no choice, Mu Sichen pocketed the meal vouchers and led the other two toward the doors of the Ideal Restaurant.

He hadn’t even pulled out the vouchers yet when a waiter at the entrance greeted them warmly:

“Three guests with complimentary meal vouchers? Please, come in. Feel free to place your order after being seated.”

So much for hiding the vouchers to conceal their identity as outsiders— plan failed.

Mu Sichen smoothed his clothes and walked in with a calm, composed demeanor.

“Wow… a place like this in real life would probably cost two grand per person,” Chi Lian muttered. “I’ve only come to restaurants like this when taking clients out. I’d never go for myself. I never imagined I could eat here for free in a dream.”

“Of course it’s free,” He Fei snorted. “In the real world, restaurants cost money. In here, they cost your life.”

They reached the reception desk, where the receptionist smiled and extended a hand:

“May I see your meal vouchers, please?”

Mu Sichen handed over the vouchers. After recording their details, a waiter came over to escort them to their seats.

“Would you prefer to sit in the open dining area,” the waiter asked, “or would you prefer a more private space?”

“Open area,” Mu Sichen replied.

At least in an open area, he could see what kind of ingredients the kitchen was using. He didn’t want to risk sitting in an enclosed room where they might unknowingly be fed something… unholy.

Of course, no matter how delicious the food looked, the three had already agreed not to eat a single bite.

“Alright then, please take the elevator,” said the waiter into his earpiece. “Table 7, second floor, party of three.”

After the elevator ride, another waiter guided them to their table.

The open-plan restaurant was quiet, but still open enough that Mu Sichen could see other diners nearby—specifically, the customers at tables 6 and 8.

Those two tables were nearly done with their meals.

What Mu Sichen noticed was… how they ate.

With every bite, they paused and savored it.

It didn’t look like they were foodies, rather, it was as if they were having some kind of spiritual awakening.

It wasn’t just eating—it was as if they were ascending.

Some had peaceful smiles and closed eyes, as if they’d just fallen in love.

Others’ pupils shrank, overwhelmed by adrenaline, like they were experiencing a skydiving rush.

One was crying softly—tears of release, as if all their pain had melted away.

Mu Sichen scanned the dishes.

Not a single repeated plate between the two tables.

And the emotional reactions varied subtly between individuals.

That… meant each person was tasting something unique—something tailored.

He made a mental note:

Table 6 and Table 8’s guests were probably real souls.

Their reactions—bizarre as they were—carried the messiness and vulnerability of real human emotion. They felt too real to be scripted.

The waitstaff, by contrast, all wore the same identical professional smile. The curvature of their lips didn’t even vary.

It was both creepy and artificial.

Thankfully, Mu Sichen could still monitor the sanity values of his two teammates through the System Panel, so he could keep an eye on their mental state even in this dream-space.

After seating them, the waiter handed each of them a menu.

“No need for menus,” Mu Sichen said. “Do you have any specialty dishes? Just bring out a few based on what our voucher covers.”

The waiter replied smoothly:

“We don’t have specialty dishes here at Ideal Restaurant.”

Chi Lian blinked. “Then how do you even stay in business?”

Waiter: “Our restaurant serves the customers. Whatever dreams or wishes they have, the menu will display dishes accordingly based on their needs. Every customer is unique, and each person has different requirements. So we don’t have a standardized signature dish—everything is custom-made.”

[Does that mean the moment we touch the menu, it’ll read our minds?] He Fei sent a message through the in-game group chat.

The three of them were in the same “pillar,” so they could all see each other’s messages in the group chat. But Cheng Xubo, who was outside the “pillar,” couldn’t see them.

Mu Sichen glanced at his phone and then said to the waiter, “We don’t want to order just yet—we’d like to take a look around the restaurant first, if that’s okay?”

“Of course, no problem. Where would you like to see? Other floors, or maybe the kitchen? Our kitchen is clean and hygienic. While you can’t enter it, you can observe it through the glass corridor,” the waiter said, pointing the three of them toward the glass corridor running through the kitchen.

Mu Sichen’s actual intention was to shake off the waiter and walk through the restaurant on his own to gather more information.

Unfortunately, the waiter was very clingy and insisted on following them. It wasn’t clear whether he was offering service or surveillance.

“Then let’s take a look at the kitchen first. I have high standards for cleanliness,” Mu Sichen said.

Waiter: “Certainly, right this way.”

It was a semi-open kitchen. The visible parts only included chopping, plating, and some cold dish preparation. The actual cooking of hot dishes took place deeper inside—otherwise, customers would be eating smoke and grease instead of food.

Mu Sichen first walked around the open area. The ingredients looked fresh—normal vegetables, fruits, and meat—cleaned thoroughly. The chefs had excellent personal hygiene, and everything seemed flawless.

Then the three of them entered the glass corridor. They didn’t even need to walk—there was a conveyor belt that automatically carried them through each section.

The kitchen operated like an industrial assembly line, with the conveyor moving different food items to different zones.

The people washing vegetables placed the cleaned ingredients onto the conveyor, which took them to the chopping area. After being processed there, the food was placed on plates and sent into the internal cooking zone.

That area was also spotless. Every staff member had their hair completely tucked into caps to ensure not a single strand would fall out. The area was sealed to prevent even a single insect from getting in.

The conveyor belt in the glass corridor took them out of the kitchen along the same path as the food—from the washing zone, past the chopping zone, through the cooking zone, and finally out of the kitchen to be served at a customer’s table.

Mu Sichen felt a flicker of discomfort rise within him.

“Would you like to see the other floors?” the waiter asked.

“Not for now,” Mu Sichen said, then asked, “I have a question—after we’ve finished our meal, can we leave the restaurant?”

“Of course. You’re our guest—you’re free to come and go. It’s our honor that you chose to dine at Ideal Restaurant. If our food doesn’t meet your expectations, that only motivates us to improve. We hope you’ll visit us again in the future,” the waiter replied.

Mu Sichen didn’t believe a single word.

From what he knew, once you entered a “pillar,” there was no getting out. With a catch this good, there was no way the pillar’s automated system would just let them leave.

“Is there a basement or anything above the fifth floor? Like a hotel or entertainment facilities?” Mu Sichen asked. “Or is this building connected to some kind of leisure or entertainment center—so everything from dining to staying to playing is all integrated?”

The waiter seemed a bit irritated by Mu Sichen’s questions but still responded politely, “Sir, this is a restaurant. We don’t offer any entertainment programs, and accommodation isn’t included either.”

Mu Sichen gave a theatrical sigh. “I thought the Ideal Restaurant would be a one-stop solution for everything. Can I take some photos?”

“Of course, no problem,” the waiter replied.

Mu Sichen pretended to take pictures while actually sending his plan to the group chat. Chi Lian and He Fei responded with a knowing glance that said ‘Got it.’

“Well, we’ve had the tour and taken pictures—now I’m really starting to feel hungry. Let’s go eat,” Mu Sichen said, patting his stomach.

This time, he didn’t wait for the waiter to lead the way. He strode ahead quickly and didn’t take the direct path to Table 7 the waiter had pointed out. Instead, he took a detour, passing near Table 6.

“Sir!” the waiter called after him, hurrying to block his path. “You’re going the wrong way. Please take this path and don’t disturb other guests.”

“Oh, really? My bad,” Mu Sichen said.

At that moment, Chi Lian and He Fei moved past Mu Sichen with purposeful speed, heading straight for Table 6.

“The other two guests, please don’t—” the waiter started to speak but suddenly paused. He blinked.

Chi Lian and He Fei had disappeared from the waiter’s vision.

He Fei’s weapon was small and concealed under a thick, long-sleeved coat—despite the heat, he’d worn it into the game. In his hand, he discreetly held a revolver and gently pulled the trigger.

A “expel” bullet hit the waiter’s line of sight dead on.

After leveling up to 20, He Fei’s “expel” ability had evolved significantly.

It no longer only applied to physical objects—he could now expel in an abstract sense, too.

This time, the targets weren’t the waiter himself but He Fei and Chi Lian as seen from the waiter’s perspective.

Thus, both of them disappeared from the waiter’s field of view.

Mu Sichen had acquired several abilities from the “Eye of the Sky,” including enhanced visual perception. He had a strong sensitivity to lines of sight. He knew there was no surveillance in this restaurant—the only one monitoring them was the waiter.

After expelling himself and Chi Lian from the waiter’s sight, He Fei then used the same skill on the three diners at Table 6.

Those diners immediately became unaware of He Fei and Chi Lian’s presence. Then again, even without the skill, people deeply engrossed in their food probably wouldn’t notice much.

Chi Lian moved with swift precision, using her scissors to “cut” and then “paste” the diners’ sense of touch onto their own group of three.

Since the waiter had said the menu would respond to whatever the customer wanted, based on their inner desires, they chose not to touch the menu at all.

Mu Sichen deduced that the Ideal Restaurant could read brainwaves via nerve conduction through touch. It might not be able to read minds in the literal sense, but it could detect subconscious preferences.

Humans could endure pain—but it was far harder to resist things they liked.

A person might endure the bitterness of medicine, knowing it was necessary. But if their favorite food was in front of them, even if they were on a diet, they might still take a bite. Even if they resisted the urge, they’d keep thinking about it—maybe even dream of it.

And they were inside a dream now. Could they really resist temptation as they would in the real world?

Mu Sichen doubted it.

He decided not to test their willpower, and not to let the Ideal Restaurant serve them their true favorite dishes.

To avoid the waiter’s surveillance, Mu Sichen had carefully planned their maneuver—temporarily attaching the sense of touch from the three guests at Table 6 to themselves as a defense mechanism against the menu’s mind-reading.

“Where did they go?” For the first time, the waiter’s mask-like polite expression cracked slightly. He looked around frantically. Even though Chi Lian and He Fei were right in front of him, he couldn’t see them.

“What’s wrong?” Mu Sichen smoothly stepped in front of the waiter, blocking his view. “Looking for something? Come on, take me back to the table. I’m getting hungry—I want to order.”

“Where are your two companions?” the waiter asked.

“They’ve been right here the whole time,” Mu Sichen replied casually.

The waiter looked left and right, but the two were nowhere to be seen. His expression darkened, and he spoke into his headset mic, “There are two guests who…”

He seemed to be trying to put out a full-restaurant alert for them. But before he could finish the sentence, a voice came from behind him: “We’re right here.”

The waiter turned to see Chi Lian and He Fei standing calmly behind him.

He Fei had lifted the “expel” skill.

“What happened? Why are you initiating an emergency comm?” someone on the other end of the mic asked.

“It’s nothing,” the waiter replied. “I’m just a bit overworked—looks like I need some repairs.”

“Your rest time hasn’t come yet. Can you finish serving this table?”

“I think I can,” the waiter said, blinking slowly.

By this time, all three—Mu Sichen, Chi Lian, and He Fei—had seated themselves at Table 7. Mu Sichen waved cheerfully at the waiter.

 

“We’re ready to order.”

 

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