Because Shen Jiyue’s appearance was so grotesque, Mu Sichen had avoided looking at him directly, never once observing his expression.

It wasn’t entirely Mu Sichen’s fault; the man’s condition was simply too much to stomach. Mu Sichen was just a college student from a peaceful world—perhaps clever and striving for composure, but a normal human being nonetheless. For that reason, he had instinctively labeled Shen Jiyue as “pitiful,” a “struggling survivor,” or a “normal person on the brink of madness.”

In hindsight, how could anyone who calmly faced a body covered in fish-eye blisters without losing their mind be considered “ordinary”?

Realizing this, Mu Sichen stopped rushing. This wasn’t a video game’s starter village; there was no tutorial for newcomers. Acting blindly without understanding the underlying logic of this world was a one-way ticket to an early grave. He remembered the four players “purified” by Apostle Feather-Eye and commanded himself to stay calm.

He needed more information.

He forced himself to stare at Shen Jiyue, discarding his fear and nausea to look past the blisters. He didn’t try to trick himself into thinking the eyes were “cute” to bypass the revulsion; to find them cute would be to validate Big Eye’s logic on a spiritual level, inviting silent pollution.

Instead, he cultivated a sense of resistance. He acknowledged the horror, accepted the visual impact, and endured it. He wasn’t embracing it—he was confronting it.

The diary’s owner had chosen to hide, refusing to look or listen, and had gone mad anyway. To survive, one had to look the weirdness of this world in the face without flinching.

As Mu Sichen locked eyes with Shen Jiyue, he saw a flicker of calm and approval within those bulging, frog-like pupils.

“It seems you’ve found the trick to staying sane in the sanitarium,” Shen Jiyue said, placing his hand over Mu Sichen’s blistered one.

Mu Sichen felt a cold sensation. When he looked down, the blisters on his hand had vanished. Meanwhile, several new eyes sprouted within the weeping sores on Shen Jiyue’s arm.

It wasn’t a “cure”; Shen Jiyue had simply absorbed the pollution into himself.

“Amazing, isn’t it?” A hint of a smile appeared in Shen Jiyue’s eyes. “A Patient can actually treat the pollution on a Family Member. I’ve been in this ward for a week, waiting for someone like you to show up.”

Mu Sichen understood now. Every time he had entered the room, Shen Jiyue had acted differently—shifting from a monster to a victim—as a series of tests.

“So, the malice I felt the first time I opened the door… that wasn’t an illusion? You were scaring me on purpose?”

When Mu Sichen first opened the door, he had encountered a creature that radiated an unspeakable hostility. That double shock to his senses and spirit caused him to slam the door shut. That single action told Shen Jiyue that Mu Sichen was a newcomer who knew nothing of the rules—someone who hadn’t yet been “polluted” by the hospital’s logic.

But that wasn’t enough. On the second visit, Shen Jiyue played the part of the noble, suffering victim to win Mu Sichen’s sympathy. The third visit was the final trial: Shen Jiyue lay defenseless, waiting to see if Mu Sichen, now armed with the hospital’s rules, would choose to harm him to gain a promotion.

If Mu Sichen had tried to “treat” him, Shen Jiyue would never have revealed the truth, let alone absorbed his pollution.

“You’ve been testing me this whole time?”

Shen Jiyue didn’t deny it. “I prefer working with smart people. Here, the stupid don’t last, the cold-blooded don’t last, and the cowardly don’t last.”

“How did you know I’d learned the rules?”

Shen Jiyue shrugged. “You didn’t find the official rulebook; you heard them from someone else. If you look closely, you’ll find hints hidden all over the hospital. It’s easy to piece together the identity-swap rules.”

“If it’s so easy, why not just post them in the lobby?”

Shen Jiyue chuckled. “To fool the ‘clever’ ones. This place is so twisted that no one would trust a sign in the lobby. But a rule you’ve ‘discovered’ through your own hard work and deduction? You’d trust that with your life, wouldn’t you?”

Mu Sichen felt a chill of realization. “So many traps.”

“Of course,” Shen Jiyue said, pointing upward. “He isn’t stupid.”

Mu Sichen felt a bit awkward as he adjusted his “Sha Dayan” badge. For the first time, he truly grasped the horror of a “God-level” entity. Their power wasn’t just in being “forbidden to look at” or having physical might; it was their cognitive ability, which far exceeded human imagination. Only a God could defeat a God.

He realized he could never escape Pupil Town on his own; he had to rely on Qin Zhou.

Yet, he couldn’t bring himself to appreciate this “divine favor.” To a “Great Existence,” a human was like an ant on the sidewalk. They might toss a few breadcrumbs to a “lucky” ant out of boredom, and the ant would kneel in gratitude, thinking it had met a savior. Then, the next second, the giant steps away and accidentally crushes the ant into the dirt.

The giant never intended to harm the ant; it simply didn’t notice it. That was the chasm between gods and men.

I suppose to Qin Zhou, I’m just an ant worth observing, Mu Sichen thought, rubbing his nose.

“I know Big Eye is strong. That’s why we’re looking for the Pillar. Is that why you’re here too?”

“Big Eye?” Shen Jiyue blinked, then laughed. “A fitting name. Though you shouldn’t dwell on that nickname; the more you think about Him, the more you understand Him, and the faster the pollution takes hold.”

Unlike the mechanical Yao Wangping, Shen Jiyue felt reliable.

“You mentioned Xiangping Town,” Mu Sichen said. “Are you one of Qin Zhou’s subordinates? Do you have his totem?”

“You’re calling Him by His name?” For the first time, genuine shock crossed Shen Jiyue’s face. His pupils swiveled $360^{circ}$ as if trying to see Mu Sichen from every angle.

“Is that a problem?” Mu Sichen felt uneasy. “It’s the name they play on the radio all the time.”

“I have to wonder if you even lived through the Cataclysm,” Shen Jiyue muttered. “Haven’t you noticed? People only refer to entities of that level by their titles—’Great Existence,’ ‘Guardian God,’ ‘General.’ That’s common sense.”

This was the second time Mu Sichen had heard the term “Cataclysm.” He didn’t want to blow his cover as a “Player,” so he steered the conversation away. “I’ve already said the name. What happens now?”

“With Him? Probably nothing. Besides ‘Humanity’s Guardian’ and the ‘Shading Hand,’ He is also known as the ‘Absolute Rationalist.’ If you call His name, He either ignores you or grants you the protection of logic and calm. No wonder you’re so clear-headed; you’ve been touched by Absolute Reason.”

Mu Sichen: “…”

He highly doubted he had Qin Zhou’s protection. When he had looked at Big Eye, his SAN value had plummeted without any “rational” shield. However, since receiving the totem, he did feel sharper. He wasn’t hyper-rational like Yao Wangping, but he was grounded.

“So you have the totem too?”

“I do,” Shen Jiyue said. He lifted his hair to show the back of his head. Beneath the clean, well-kept hair—a sign of his desperate grip on human dignity—was the same tattoo of the many-armed figure cradling the Earth.

It explained why only his hair and scalp seemed normal while the rest of him was a mess of sores. Did Qin Zhou’s totem only protect one specific area? If so, Yao Wangping would eventually become a monster with only one normal left arm.

The Absolute Rationalist’s protection seems a bit… stingy, Mu Sichen noted.

But Mu Sichen felt a difference between Qin Zhou and Big Eye. Big Eye was a pure monster; Mu Sichen had sensed zero emotion from it. But with Qin Zhou, he had sensed irritation, curiosity, and even a faint humanity. It made Qin Zhou far easier to deal with.

“You’ve been looking for an unpolluted Family Member because one person can’t take down this Pillar alone, right? How can I help?”

“You’re an easy teammate to work with,” Shen Jiyue sighed. “Here is what I’ve gathered:

“Xiangping Town is currently the largest settlement. The ‘Guardian God’ is incredibly strong. Originally, Xiangping was just a single street, but it has expanded by swallowing neighboring towns. He sends people out to destroy the Pillars of other domains to collapse them from within.

“Pillars are fueled by massive amounts of soul and mental energy. Therefore, wherever a Pillar exists, there is a concentration of pollution, pain, and despair. Followers cannot provide these emotions; they are too empty. The Pillars must be where the ‘normal’ people are.

“That’s why I’m here. This sanitarium is a farm for suffering.”

Everything clicked. Mu Sichen had wondered why Big Eye didn’t just convert everyone in the plaza into Followers. Now he knew: the Domain needed the survivors to be sane enough to feel pain and despair to keep the Pillars standing.

The survivors were toys, and this was the “Ideal Town” Big Eye had built for them to suffer in.

Mu Sichen, a product of a world of peace, felt a cold rage. The world might be mad, but no one should ever be allowed to call this “Ideal.”

Author’s Note:

Qin Zhou (waving tentacles): Mu Sichen, I’ll protect you!

Mu Sichen: You’re a bit useless, aren’t you? You only protected one patch of hair.

Qin Zhou (big watery eyes, hurt): I’ll work harder to show you how useful I am!