“Ah, Savior!”

Upon seeing Mu Sichen, the girl’s eyes lit up. She lunged forward and hauled him into the office. The situation was surreal, but Mu Sichen chose to trust her. This trust wasn’t based on their shared status as “players,” but on cold, objective analysis.

He had been in the sanitarium for less than an hour. He had seen Shen Jiyue’s medical log—which already bore the name “Dr. Ke Yi”—within ten minutes of arriving. For this girl to have traveled from the plaza, entered the hospital, learned the rules, cured a patient, and registered the name “Ke Yi” all within those ten minutes was a physical impossibility.

The only explanation was her game ability.

Inside the office, a middle-aged woman lay bound on the floor. Her name tag read: Patient: Ke Yi.

Mu Sichen turned to the girl. “Is your name Chi Lian?”

The girl gasped, her face flushing with delight. “Savior, you’re amazing! Are you omniscient? How did you know my name?”

Mu Sichen took a cautious step back from her radiating enthusiasm. He pointed to the unconscious woman. “I’m guessing she is the real Dr. Ke Yi. How did you manage to swap name tags?”

He and Shen Jiyue had already tried swapping tags to see if they could cheat the system. But the moment a tag changed hands, the ink would shift, reverting to the original owner’s name. The rules were magically enforced.

Yet, Chi Lian had succeeded.

“It’s my starting tool’s ability,” Chi Lian said, brandishing a pair of oversized tailor’s shears. “The system says I have the power to ‘Cut and Paste.’ I didn’t just swap the tags; I cut the names off the tags and pasted them onto the other. The system thinks the labels are correct.”

Chi Lian explained her ordeal with frantic energy. After Mu Sichen left the plaza, she had found the courage to follow him into the mist. Being directionally challenged, she wandered for ages until she ran into Dr. Ke Yi. The doctor had been out hunting for “Patients” and lured the gullible Chi Lian back to the hospital with promises that she knew where Mu Sichen was.

“I was so stupid,” Chi Lian recounted. “I didn’t realize it was a trap until she got me in here and tried to tie me up for ‘admissions.’ What’s weird is that even though I’m fit, I felt totally suppressed in her presence—like I couldn’t fight back.”

“A Doctor has innate psychological suppression over a Patient,” Mu Sichen noted. He was a “Family Member,” which was why he hadn’t felt that crushing weight from Yao Wangping.

“That must be it. But once I used my skill to swap the names, the pressure vanished. I punched her out with one hit. She didn’t even have the strength to dodge.” Chi Lian pointed at the woman on the floor and winced. “Wait, Savior, look at her neck! What’s happening?”

Mu Sichen looked. Cluster of fish-eye blisters were erupting across Ke Yi’s throat. Her body was warping.

“She’s mutating,” Mu Sichen explained grimly. “She’s become the Patient now.”

“That’s terrifying.” Chi Lian patted her chest. “I was a Patient the moment I walked in. Thank god I swapped tags, or I’d look like that. I’d honestly rather die.”

Mu Sichen frowned. “Why were you a Patient?”

According to Shen Jiyue, ordinary people became “Family,” while only “Degenerates”—those with a conflicting faith—became “Patients.” Mu Sichen had no faith, so he was Family. Chi Lian was a player like him; she should have been the same.

“When you first spawned in this world,” Mu Sichen asked, “where were you? Did you see a radio? A flashlight? Did anyone preach to you about a ‘Great Existence’ like… Qin Zhou?”

As he spoke the name, Mu Sichen felt a sharp twinge in his chest. It felt remarkably like being flicked by a tentacle. Why is he hitting me? he wondered, rubbing his heart.

“No,” Chi Lian replied. “I spawned in a tiny black room with no windows. I searched everywhere and found words scratched into the headboard. It felt like someone had carved them with their fingernails. It was grisly.”

“What did the words say?”

“They said: ‘I want to go home. I miss Chimi Town. Great Lord of Night-Bloom, please grant me the end that returns my soul to my homeland.’ I had to trace the characters in the dark for hours just to figure out the name ‘Chimi’.”

Chimi Town? Lord of Night-Bloom?

The names sent a chill through Mu Sichen’s blood. This was the third town he’d heard of. This “Lord of Night-Bloom” was clearly another God-level entity, a rival to Big Eye and Qin Zhou.

It made sense. These entities needed “Pillars” fueled by souls and despair. Since they were constantly consuming their populations, they had to expand. They were likely all infiltrating each other’s territories, trying to poach “resources.”

“Do you believe in this Lord of Night-Bloom?”

“Heck no! I’m not falling for some creepy religious chant,” Chi Lian said, her tone perfectly sane. “I thought it was a horror game clue. I was prepared for ghosts, not a bunch of gross eyeballs. Honestly, I’d take a pretty ghost lady over this any day!”

Mu Sichen looked at her suspiciously. In this world, you didn’t just “get better” unless a God was protecting you. He didn’t feel like joking around, yet she was practically bouncing with吐槽 (snark).

“How are you so… okay?” he asked.

Chi Lian looked hurt. “How can you doubt me? I was kidnapped into this death-trap world, and if you hadn’t saved me, I’d be a mutant corpse by now. You’re the only person here I trust. Why would I believe in some weird ‘Night-Bloom’ thing when I can believe in you?”

Mu Sichen: “…”

He remembered the Ego Sticker he had slapped on her back in the plaza.

Wait. Did she just say she ‘believed’ in me?

As the thought crossed his mind, the long-silent System pinged.

[Congratulations! You have gained 1 Follower. Follower System Activated.]

[Activation Requirement: Apply an ‘Ego Sticker’ to a target, obtain their sincere trust, and possess ‘God-level Domain Knowledge’.]

Mu Sichen stared at the screen. She’s my follower?

The requirements were brutal. Sincere trust was hard enough in a peaceful world, but “God-level Knowledge” was the real gatekeeper. To get that, one had to look at a God and survive the mental fallout. Mu Sichen knew he was a rare exception; most people would have dissolved into meat-slurry the moment they laid eyes on Big Eye.

The System didn’t explain what a Follower did or how it increased his power, but he immediately saw the utility. He had a teammate he could trust 100%, and she could “Cut and Paste” identity tags.

“Can you swap tags again?” he asked, thinking of Shen Jiyue.

“Just once more,” Chi Lian said, pointing to her head. “Swapping once drained my entire MP bar. My max is 100, but the System said ‘Cut and Paste’ cost 120. I have no idea where the extra 20 came from.”

Mu Sichen’s stomach sank.

“When you used the skill,” he asked tentatively, “were you… thinking of me?”

“Yes!” Chi Lian chirped. “I thought, ‘I’m going to die, I wonder if my Savior can save me one more time!’“

Mu Sichen checked his own status. His MP, which had painfully crawled back up to 30, was now at 10.

She’s been leaching my MP. He finally understood the downside of having a Follower. When Chi Lian “prayed” to him in her moment of need, he had “answered,” and the 20 MP difference had been auto-deducted from his account. He had been 3 points away from being able to use “Undermine” again. Now he was back to zero.

This system is a scam. I don’t mind helping her, but can I at least get a ‘Confirm’ prompt before you steal my energy?

The System flashed a response:

[In the startup phase, the Boss has to lead by example. Once the business scales up, you won’t have to worry about the small change.]

Mu Sichen: “…”

Not only is this system a black-box mystery, but it’s also a snarky venture capitalist.

Author’s Note:

Qin Zhou (punching his chest): Mu Sichen, look at me! Believe in me!

Chi Lian: Savior, lend me some cash (MP) and I’ll believe in you!

Mu Sichen: I’m so tired.