C87 — The Map

This was the first time Mu Sichen had encountered such a well-hidden “Pillar.” Its position made it incredibly difficult to approach.

“Can I fly over there?” Mu Sichen asked as he pulled out the cross axe.

The crossaxe enlarged, spun around in the air, then returned to Mu Sichen’s hand in disappointment.

He could see the “Pillar,” but he couldn’t get close to it.

Mu Sichen hesitated, staring up at the sky.

He had already seen through everything—but the dream had long been set in motion.

Even if the “Pillar” could manipulate or link dreams to some extent, in the end, it was merely a rule-based automaton bound by the very rules it created.

As long as the dream hadn’t ended, it had to continue.

Even when Mu Sichen said things that exposed the truth, the dream’s plot still progressed.

The “little octopus” with the face of a male celebrity came over and grabbed Mu Sichen’s hand.

Its appearance was now fully human, but it still mimicked the movements of a small octopus.

Mu Sichen, despite being busy, noticed the fake octopus-man’s gesture and quickly withdrew his hand in alarm.

“What are you saying? I changed myself to fit your preferences. Don’t you like me?”

The fake octopus-man looked up at him with big blinking eyes, just like the little octopus.

Even someone as mentally resilient as Mu Sichen shivered in fear.

What kind of bizarre creature was this?

At this point, the dream had clearly devolved into a nightmare.

Thankfully, He Fei’s dream was involved. With it merged into his own, Mu Sichen—despite not fully severing his happy emotions—wouldn’t be easily deceived by the dream or surrender too much emotional energy.

Mu Sichen took a few steps back, distancing himself from the fake octopus-man, accidentally bumping into the motorized airbike.

Inside, the god of machinery was still repeating insistently:

“Human, you still have two wishes left. Don’t miss this precious opportunity.”

Mu Sichen was speechless.

This mechanical Aladdin had reeked of knockoff energy from the very start.

Now its lines had the vibe of a street vendor shouting:

“Don’t miss out! Only two left! Just two!”

Among the three of them, He Fei’s dream was the most like a cartoon—completely whimsical and fantastical…

Wait.

Mu Sichen turned to look at the motorbike and suddenly realized something.

Dreams. Whimsical.

Those scattered clues helped Mu Sichen piece together a truth.

Why could the “Pillars” in other places only stay within their own domains, but the Pillar of the Ideal Restaurant clinged to close to the edge of the “Sea of Consciousness”?

As if it had left its domain?

But that wasn’t the case.

The Pillar’s location was still within its domain—in the Ideal Restaurant’s dream.

It clung to the edge of the “Sea of Conciousness” by harnessing the power of dreams.

Mu Sichen and the pickaxe thought they couldn’t get close to the Pillar high above because he was rational—he knew he couldn’t fly, and thus couldn’t approach it.

But in truth, Mu Sichen was currently inside a highly irrational, surreal dream where anything could happen.

Even if that rational awareness limited his actions and prevented him from flying over—

Wasn’t there still the mechanical god, who could grant wishes?

Mu Sichen immediately said,

“I wish to have the ability to reach the ‘Mental Sea of Consciousness.’”

The warning lights on the motorbike flashed a few times.

It replied,

“Don’t make impossible wishes like that!”

Fair enough—after all, the motorbike was just an element of the dream.

Asking it to let someone near the “Mental Sea” was indeed a bit much.

Mu Sichen then said,
“Then let me have the ability to touch intangible things.”

“That wish is relatively reasonable.” The airbike flashed a few times, “Your wish has been granted. From now on, you can touch invisible ghosts and other intangible energy beings. You have one wish left.”

Mu Sichen touched the thread connecting his brow to the sea of consciousness, and sure enough, this time he could feel it.

But it wasn’t because the bike was magical—it was because this was a dream. Even Mu Sichen himself was an intangible being here.

He was a spiritual entity, inherently capable of touching intangible threads. What limited him was his own perception.

Just like he couldn’t perceive the “sea of consciousness” until he believed in its existence, he couldn’t touch the thread because he thought it was untouchable. But now that he believed he’d gained some kind of mystical power through his wish, he could touch it.

This was an extremely idealistic world.

After all, this was just a dream, just “the mind.” All physical laws were invalid here.

Mu Sichen made his third wish: “For my final wish, I want the ability to fly anywhere in the world.”

“People always want to fly once they can make wishes come true,” the motor airship flickered and asked, “Do you want wings to fly with, or do you want to fly without wings?”

“No wings,” Mu Sichen declined.

Growing wings would remind him of the Feathered Dependent, which was a bit sanity-draining.

“Are you sure? No wings at all?” the airship confirmed repeatedly. “They’re pretty cool.”

This was definitely a motor airbike with He Fei’s personal flair.

Mu Sichen silently looked at it. The airbike sighed, “Alright then, no wings.”

It released a beam of light that enveloped Mu Sichen, then said, “You can fly now. But without wings, it won’t look as good. Are you really sure you don’t want wings? I can throw in an extra wish.”

“No.” Mu Sichen responded coldly.

He tested it and found his body extremely light—he could fly just by willing it.

“I’ve granted your three wishes. From today on, the Mecha god shall be free. All your wishes were so pure and kind. The Mecha God likes boys like you. I’ve decided to transform and stay by your side, helping you become a superhero!” The motor bike blinked a few times, its parts disassembling and reassembling into a robot.

Mu Sichen: “…”

Great. Very He Fei indeed.

“Then use your thread to take me to the ‘Pillar’,” Mu Sichen grasped the intangible thread connected to the robot.

The dream had been tampered with by the “Pillar,” so the threads in the dream were connected to it. But since Mu Sichen was currently unpolluted and not under the Pillar’s control, his thread wasn’t connected to the Pillar—it connected to the sea of consciousness.

Though the directions were the same, the destinations were completely different.

Mu Sichen followed the motor’s intangible thread and flew upward—through the ceiling, through the sky, through the atmosphere, through space and time. It seemed like a long journey, but in truth, it may not have taken more than a minute. He easily reached the Pillar.

Butterfly wings drooped down, wrapping around a brain-shaped totem, radiating a faint lavender glow that shrouded the ideal restaurant below.

Countless threads dangled from the pillar, connecting to every employee, every dream, and every person addicted to the ideal restaurant.

Mu Sichen took out a cross axe and again withdrew 10% of his trust value from the system, attaching it to the cross axe.

Previously, all his power came from the self-stickers he leached off Qin Zu. Now, he could finally use his own energy.

The crossaxe spun in midair, turning into a streak of silver light before slamming heavily into the butterfly piller. The “Poaching” skill was activated, and the butterfly pillar slowly began to transform into a Self Pillar.

During this process, Mu Sichen sensed a faint wave of anger through his own thread, coming from the “Sea of Consciousness” nearby.

“Is that the butterfly’s anger?” Mu Sichen asked.

[Yes, but it’s just symbolic—it doesn’t truly care. If it really valued this ‘Pillar,’ it would’ve forcibly awakened its true form to stop you from corrupting it.]

The system’s reply addressed something Mu Sichen had long suspected.

 

Nie Yihai’s single sentence had nearly driven him insane. With such overwhelming power, how could a being like the butterfly submit so meekly to the Pillar’s rules—being driven out just like that, and then doing nothing afterward? It allowed a clearly scheming individual like him to stay in the Ideal Restaurant.

The methods of a godlike entity were beyond human comprehension. Even Mu Sichen, who had only reached the level of a pseudo-god, already had many tools at his disposal. There was no way the butterfly lacked the means to deal with him.

That it allowed them to operate within the restaurant must mean it had its own reasons.

“I get the feeling that the order I took over the towns in was carefully chosen by you,” Mu Sicheng said to the system.

[The system merely selected the most probable path from countless combinations. Even so, the probability was only 0.01%. For the player to have come this far, both luck and strength were indispensable.]

So it was true—everything from Big Eye to the butterfly had been part of the system’s arrangement. But why had the butterfly willingly given up a Pillar?

There must be something more important to it—something that made the trade worthwhile.

Mu Sichen racked his brain, and the only thing he could think of was the 10% trust value he had offered to the Dream-Eating Butterfly. But that was merely a small amount of energy from the townspeople’s worship—not nearly enough to justify such a concession. Why would the Dream-Eating Butterfly let them go for such a small return?

As Mu Sichen struggled to make sense of it, the butterfly totem had already been completely converted into a Self Totem.

The crossaxe, now glowing with a violet hue, returned to Mu Sichen’s side. Its metallic gleam was even brighter now—it looked shiny and new, a stark contrast to the rusted tool it had once been.

No need to ask—it had clearly leveled up again.

Mu Sichen put the pickaxe away and began to feel the power of the new Pillar.

Through it, he sensed the struggles of many patrons—their inner conflict between wanting to escape and being unable to resist the joy of a beautiful dream.

This mental erosion was a form of corruption, too.

“Purify.” As always, Mu Sichen used the power of the Self pillar to cleanse the corruption and return people to themselves.

Because he had once read the Waiter’s memories, and because he followed Qin Zu, Mu Sicheng traced the lines on the totem and found the Waiter, focusing on his mental state.

The Waiter had lost a lot of emotional energy. It was hard for him to feel happiness anymore.

He stood stiffly beside Mu Sichen’s table, blankly observing the three of them.

Then, suddenly, his heart felt lighter.

It was a strange feeling, as if a weight that had pressed on his chest for ages had finally eased, and his emotions found a channel to escape through.

But he had so few emotions left that aside from relief, he could barely feel anything else.

Without realizing it, he began to cry, not even knowing why.

Mu Sichen saw a small, damaged Self totem appear on his chest—slowly, it was beginning to repair itself.

“Can lost emotions be recovered?” Mu Sichen asked.

[What does the player think happened to the townspeople whose emotions were partially taken in the processing plant?]

This was something Mu Sichen had paid attention to. He remembered that the townspeople’s Self Totems had also been damaged, but ever since the library was reclaimed and the town’s domain gradually restored, those Self Totems had seemed to come back to life, slowly repairing themselves.

“So… emotions can regrow?” Mu Sichen asked.

[Emotions are a capability, not an energy. Capability gives rise to energy, which the ‘Pillars’ absorb—but the Pillars cannot permanently steal a person’s capacity for emotion.]

Mu Sichen understood what the system meant.

Emotions were like a reservoir. When energy was abundant and emotions were full, the reservoir brimmed over, sometimes even spilling.

When emotions were drained and energy depleted, the reservoir would dry up. But even if the water was gone, the reservoir—the capacity to feel—still remained.

If energy was given back to the person, the reservoir could fill again.

“And where does that new energy come from?” Mu Sichen asked.

Filling a reservoir required rain. But in a world this desolate, where would the rain come from?

[It comes from the self. It comes from deep within the heart.]

Mu Sichen understood.

It was like a hidden spring at the bottom of the reservoir. When the self grew strong enough, even a parched spring would begin to trickle again.

At first, the flow might be faint—but over time, the reservoir would refill.

Right now, the Waiter merely felt lighter, freed from his dependence on the Ideal Restaurant. But his emotions were still dried out.

Still, one day, as his Self Totem continued to heal, he would once again feel joy, sorrow—and guilt.

During the time he was corrupted, even if not by choice, the Waiter had done things that went against his morals and hurt his companions.

Mu Sichen didn’t intend to be the Waiter’s therapist. In the end, people had to heal, reflect, and forgive themselves on their own.

Guilt was also a driving force. Maybe that very emotion would push him to value life more, cherish his comrades, and treasure the hard-won return of his true self.

The transformations happening inside the Ideal Restaurant also helped Mu Sichen understand why the butterfly had let him go.

Because he had once read a phrase in the sound of the tide: No one can stand above the heavens—unless they possess the fourth kind of power.

“The fourth kind of power… is the self, isn’t it?” Mu Sichen asked.

The system didn’t answer. It was a truth it seemingly could not say.

But its silence only confirmed it.

Sky, earth, ocean—humanity had claimed massive powers. But were they still human?

Big Eye had originally only wanted to protect Tongzhi Town, but in time, it became lost in its power and obsession with resisting corruption. It turned on the very people it had vowed to protect and became a monster.

A so-called god-tier monster was nothing more than a hollow vessel consumed by power after losing its sense of self—not a true god.

Without the self, one would be manipulated by power, driven to devour souls, forever chasing higher forms of strength—yet never truly divine.

That 10% trust value Mu Sichen had offered might have held only a sliver of power, but it was entrusted to him consciously, by townspeople of clear mind and will, as a gesture of true trust.

And transformed through Mu Sichen’s Self Pillar, it became a tiny current of energy that genuinely possessed the “self.”

The butterfly couldn’t bear to lose that power.

Even at the risk of losing a Pillar, the butterfly was determined to fully absorb it.

No matter how useful the “self” might be, wasn’t the sacrifice too great?

What the Butterfly was facing wasn’t just the loss of a single Pillar, but the risk of losing the entire Dream Butterfly Town.

Only seven or eight hours had passed, and Mu Sichen had already taken over the Ideal Restaurant. Was the Butterfly truly unafraid that Mu Sichen might use the remaining time to seize another “Pillar,” leaving Dream Butterfly Town completely isolated?

“Is there another reason?” Mu Sichen asked.

[The Sea of Consciousness is right in front of you—why don’t you go explore it?] The system prompted.

Mu Sichen looked up at the ocean suspended in the void, where countless thin threads gathered into droplets to form the “Sea of Consciousness.”

When he truly faced this vast ocean, Mu Sichen realized the sense of discord within himself.

“Am I afraid of it? Am I subconsciously afraid to enter the ‘Sea of Consciousness’?” Mu Sicheng asked himself.

At first, he thought it was because he couldn’t fly and had no way to actually reach the “Sea of Consciousness.” Then he believed he had to deal with the “Pillar” first and purify the Ideal Restaurant. After that, he focused on the psychological state of the waitstaff. Finally, he even wondered why the Butterfly had spared him. Anything but entering the “Sea of Consciousness.”

The “Sea of Consciousness” was a collective ocean of countless people’s subconscious minds. It must contain countless secrets. It was like a mountain full of gold—anyone who saw it would want to go in and mine. Yet Mu Sichen lingered at the foot of the mountain, using excuses like “I’m too tired,” “the mountain isn’t going anywhere,” “I’ll rest and go tomorrow,” or “I haven’t eaten yet” to stop himself from climbing it.

[That’s perfectly normal. Everyone feels fear toward the ‘Sea of Consciousness’ where their inner secrets reside.]

“But I must learn to face myself.” Mu Sichen grasped the invisible thread at the center of his brow, mustered his courage, and flew toward the “Sea of Consciousness.”

In fact, even when he reached the edge of the Sea, Mu Sichen still felt it was distant, as though he could never truly arrive.

But once he overcame all resistance and resolutely chose to approach it, it instead moved toward him. With just a small leap, he merged into the “Sea of Consciousness.”

When you reject your own mind, even if it’s right in front of you, it feels out of reach. But when you want to get closer to it, even if it’s far away, it feels within arm’s reach.

Mu Sichen submerged into the sea, and his entire body relaxed.

It felt even more comforting than soaking in real water—like his soul was returning to the womb, returning to its most original and pure state: safe and at peace.

He felt so comfortable that he almost wanted to stay there forever and never leave.

Fortunately, the system kept urging him on, and Mu Sichen slowly opened his eyes. With the “Eye of Truth” in his left eye, he tried hard to observe the Sea.

He first saw countless threads stretching in from all directions. Most of them disappeared into darkness, their ends unseen, hidden in shadow.

But a very small number of threads—Mu Sichen could trace to their source.

They led straight to his Hope Town.

Realizing this, a map of the “Sea of Consciousness” appeared before Mu Sichen’s eyes.

In the pitch-black space, there was a single, faint point of light like a star spark—that was Hope Town. The rest of the area was engulfed in darkness, with only vague outlines visible.

“System… what is this?” Mu Sichen stared at the map in disbelief.

He remembered this map—it was the very same one the system had shown him when he first entered the game, during the beginner protection phase!

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TN:

DUN DUN DUNNNNNN

My biases are back from the military, I LIVEEEEE 😩