C82 — The Demon Butterfly

“Sir, your ears are injured! I’ll perform emergency treatment immediately!” The waiter, noticing the blood, sounded extremely anxious and concerned.

But Mu Sichen could only see the waiter shouting—his mouth opening and closing dramatically—without being able to hear a single word.

However, it wasn’t that he couldn’t hear anything at all. In fact, the sound of the tide echoed endlessly in his ears—wave after wave, rising and falling—as if washing over his hearing.

Mu Sichen lifted the sensory block on Chi Lian and He Fei; after only a few seconds of lost sensation, their senses returned.

The moment they regained their senses, they were met with the shocking sight of blood pouring from Mu Sichen’s ears. He Fei, suddenly no longer weak or wobbly, jumped out of his wheelchair and rushed to support Mu Sichen, frantically wiping the blood from his ears with tissues handed over by Chi Lian.

“What happened? You were fine just a moment ago!” He Fei shouted. “Xiao Mu, can you hear your Brother Fei?”

Mu Sichen couldn’t hear. Worse than that, he couldn’t even read He Fei’s lips.

He was usually good at lip-reading—if not every word, then at least enough to guess the meaning. But now, even that skill had vanished. What he lost wasn’t just hearing—it was the brain’s ability to comprehend language.

Panicked, Mu Sichen pulled out his phone—only to find that he could no longer read the words on the screen.

The chaos around him never reached his ears. The only sound he could hear was the intensifying roar of the tide.

The game app on his phone blinked with a flashing yellow light. Mu Sichen could sense that the system was trying to communicate with him. Its voice didn’t transmit through his ears but directly into his mind—yet even that he couldn’t understand.

They brought Mu Sichen to the rest lounge on the first floor. Inside, Chi Lian, with a resolute expression, took out a pair of scissors and said something to him with a look of determination.

Mu Sichen didn’t understand her words but could guess her intention.

Chi Lian wanted to give him her hearing.

But that wouldn’t work.

Mu Sichen hadn’t lost his hearing due to a physical injury—it was a result of some kind of contamination.

Transferring such damage to Chi Lian would be unbearable for her given her level and mental strength.

He grasped her hand firmly and shook his head.
Chi Lian said something again—desperately gesturing, trying to make herself understood—but nothing got through to Mu Sichen.

She typed on her phone, pointing to the words in the group chat, but Mu Sichen still shook his head.

The tide roared louder. In that relentless crashing, Mu Sichen began to hear something else—something ancient and distant, a voice from the ocean’s depths.

This was information carried with the contamination.

Mu Sichen held Chi Lian’s hand and softly said something.

The moment the words left his lips, he realized he could understand his own voice—but the words he heard weren’t what he intended to say.

He had meant to say:

“There’s a voice in my mind. It’s preventing me from receiving any information. Don’t use any skills—I need to…”

But what reached his own ears was:

“Do you know? A butterfly isn’t a creature of the sky. It is merely a symbol. Its true…”

Realizing this, Mu Sichen immediately stopped speaking. In a frenzy, he drove the waiter, He Fei, and Chi Lian out of the lounge, locked the door, and sat on the floor, clutching his head, listening to the words carried by the sound of the tide.

“A butterfly is not an insect. It’s the shape of a tumor in the brain, known as the ‘Demon Butterfly.’

“It doesn’t dwell in the mind, but in the ‘sea of soul consciousness.”

“It does not belong to the sky—it belongs to the power of the ocean.”

“This world can only nurture three great forces: the sky, the earth, and the ocean. Only by having the ability to devour all three can one transcend the great forces.”

“There is one who dreams of obtaining the power of both the sky and the ocean, and He is going insane.”

“No one can stand above the great forces, unless they possess a fourth power.”

“Ultimately, we will return to the ‘Ancient Times,’ and none shall escape.”

“Pollution spreads not only between people but also between worlds. When one world decays, the next world becomes tainted.”

“Follow me, and all will die, and all will live. I will make you eternally live in my divine kingdom, living the most beautiful dreams.”

The voice, like a delirious ramble, continued to pierce Mu Sichen’s mind. These chaotic fragments of information drove him to madness. He felt as though he almost understood something, yet at the same time, he understood nothing at all.

His mind was unable to think clearly. He saw nothing before his eyes, and when he opened his mouth to speak, he only uttered those maddening sentences.

Mu Sichen felt as though his brain might explode. He clutched his head and curled into a tight ball on the floor.

Suddenly, a vision appeared before his left eye. It seemed as if the pattern of a butterfly was growing on his brain.

Just as Mu Sichen was on the verge of madness, a blue tentacle extended from his forehead.

No, not just one.

Eight tentacles emerged from his forehead. A small octopus, as usual, perched on his head, and its eight tentacles wrapped around his brain as if claiming dominion over it.

Then, the octopus and the butterfly both turned to dust and vanished into the air.

Everything went quiet. The sound of the tide disappeared, the delirious voices faded, and the octopus was gone.

Mu Sichen’s vision shifted. The octopus, which had been lazily crawling around his body like a decorative rock, suddenly stopped, its brow furrowing into three wavy lines as it stared at Mu Sichen seriously.

A formless tentacle extended from the center of Mu Sichen’s brow. The little octopus grabbed this tentacle, and its entire body sank into Mu Sichen’s mind, merging with his dream.

It was through this connection that the little octopus entered his dream. It used its power to destroy the butterfly in Mu Sichen’s mind, saving him from the brink of insanity.

The octopus had once told Mu Sichen that it would protect him.

And it had done so.
Mu Sichen sat up quietly, his heart feeling empty.

In fact, Mu Sichen had long known that the little octopus with the youthful voice wasn’t the same as the evil god figurine that had followed him back to the dormitory before.

The previous evil god figurine had become the source of power for Qin Zu’s divine descent and had been consumed.

At that time, Mu Sichen still had a small octopus arm on him. This arm merged with the little octopus that later appeared. It was the same as the previous little octopus, but also different.

This new octopus was more temperamental, its emotions more outward, and it loved to flap its tentacles around, making sure everyone knew it could move. The previous one, when it was angry, would just scowl, staying still as much as possible, preferring to act aloof and cold.

After returning, he wouldn’t see this mischievous little octopus anymore.
He had thought he could continue playing games with it forever.

Mu Sichen clenched his fists tightly, pressing all the pain into his heart.

There was no time for sadness. He needed to obtain the “pillar,” and his brain needed to start working again quickly.

The identity of the Dreamweaver’s Follower was becoming clear. He—or rather, it—was not just an ordinary follower. It was the true form of the butterfly.

He wasn’t like Shen Jiyue, who could turn all of his followers into avatars of the moon. Instead, He had boldly separated power from consciousness.

The butterfly that devoured the trust energy offered by Mu Sichen and then fell asleep was merely a mindless energy mass. The true butterfly—the one who manifested as the Dreamweaver’s follower—was actually Nie Yihai.

No wonder the butterfly would fall for any temptation, even daring to abandon the entire town just to sleep.

He didn’t need to worry about someone taking over the town while He slept—because He never truly slept. His consciousness was always awake.

Fortunately, His consciousness didn’t possess overwhelming power. The incomplete Him couldn’t control the “Pillar,” which was why Mu Sichen was able to use the system’s rules to drive Him away.

But He wouldn’t let it go so easily. His final words were a message—an intentional revelation to Mu Sichen.

He wanted Mu Sichen to know the secret of the god-tier monsters, to severely damage Mu Sichen’s sea of consciousness, and to thus corrupt him.

Had it not been for the little octopus insisting on leaving one of its tentacles with Mu Sichen before they set off, He would have succeeded.

He wasn’t just a hidden god—He was far stronger than “Big Eye.” His mind was terrifying.

Mu Sichen had to take the initiative. The moment He made his next move, Mu Sichen had to seize a Pillar and gain the upper hand.

At this moment, Mu Sichen was abnormally calm—rational to the extreme, like a true follower of Qin Zu. His thoughts were sharp, his mind operating far faster than usual.

Everything that happened in the restaurant replayed in his mind like a high-speed film. All the fragmented details converged into clarity.

And then Mu Sichen realized—there was one question he had never asked.

He stood up, opened the door, and met the concerned eyes of his two companions.

Chi Lian said, “Just use my hearing for now. It’s fine if I can’t hear for a while. Once you solve the issue with the ‘Pillar,’ you can figure out a way to fix me later.”

He Fei shoved Chi Lian aside and patted his chest. “Don’t listen to her—use my hearing instead. We’re in the same dorm, so we’re close by. If I don’t recover right away, you can help me write homework, take notes, write papers, sign me in for attendance… Besides, Chi Lian’s a girl living alone. It’s better I do it.”

Watching them fight over who should give up their hearing, Mu Sichen felt… absolutely nothing. Not a trace of warmth.

He said coldly, “No need. I’ve already recovered.”

“Really?” He Fei asked, delighted. “What did you use this time? Another eye prop? Tentacle prop?”

It was… the octopus prop.

That thought flashed across Mu Sichen’s mind, and his face twisted into a smile more bitter than tears. He turned to them and asked, “Are your bodies recovered?”

“Yeah! We were just scared stiff. Once I jumped up in panic, the weakness went away,” He Fei said.

“Good. Let’s go to the front desk,” Mu Sichen said.

He didn’t give them a chance to ask questions and strode straight to the front desk.

“Hello, sir. How are you feeling? Still unwell?” the front desk staff asked warmly.

Mu Sichen replied, “I’m perfectly fine now.”

“That’s wonderful. We sincerely apologize for the unpleasant experience during your meal. Here’s a free meal voucher—you’re welcome to dine with us again at no charge.”

Mu Sichen didn’t take the voucher. Instead, he asked, “I have a question. If we use up the free voucher, how much would the next meal cost? Your menu doesn’t show any prices. Is it going to be expensive?”

The receptionist patiently replied, “Sir, Ideal Restaurant treats everyone equally. We would never prevent someone from dining due to high prices. In fact, Ideal Restaurant doesn’t require money. All we ask for is joyful emotion and beautiful dreams. And if you don’t have those, you can work for a day in exchange for a free meal.”

Just as I thought, Mu Sichen said to himself.

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