Mu Sichen stepped forward to intercept the worker, pointing at the cart of bread. “Is this the daily ration for the townspeople? Did it come from the Assembly Zone?”

The man looked at Mu Sichen with hollow, vacant eyes. His reaction was agonizingly slow. He gave Mu Sichen a single, blank glance and then continued pushing his cart, showing absolutely no intent to answer.

It wasn’t that he didn’t understand, nor was he being arrogant. He simply possessed zero interest in the world around him. He had no interest in interpreting Mu Sichen’s words and even less interest in responding to them.

“How rude,” Chi Lian remarked, watching the man’s retreating back.

“He probably doesn’t even remember what ‘polite’ means.” Mu Sichen decided they couldn’t just charge into the Energy Zone blindly. They needed preparations.

He unzipped his backpack. Seeing him reach for the snacks, the octopus plushie wrapped its tentacles around the stash, looking remarkably reluctant to share. Mu Sichen, cold and firm, forcibly liberated two bags of instant noodles and two small cans of Cola, splitting them between Chi Lian and Cheng Xubo.

“What’s this for?” Cheng Xubo asked.

“I’m worried we’ll be separated once we enter the Energy Zone. This is enough to keep you from starving or dehydrating for a while.”

“But they said the Energy Zone has plenty of food,” Chi Lian noted. “Are we not allowed to eat the food here? If so, I’m in trouble—I ate the bread and milk the followers gave me during my first run.”

“That should be fine; I ate some too,” Mu Sichen said. “Even that mineral water with the eyeball in it didn’t do much. Any minor pollution you picked up was likely purified by the Pillar back at the sanitarium anyway.”

“This is just a precaution,” Mu Sichen added, drawing on his years of part-time job experience. “The followers are being way too enthusiastic—it feels like a pyramid scheme pitch. Usually, when someone is this desperate to give you ‘benefits,’ the best move is to accept nothing, or you’ll fall right into the trap.”

“So, the rule is: don’t touch the factory food. Got it,” Cheng Xubo said.

Mu Sichen would have given them more, but their athletic gear only had so much pocket space.

As they entered the Energy Zone, a workshop director with double pupils in each eye greeted them warmly. “Welcome, talents! I represent the Bright Pupil Processing Plant. Don’t worry, the treatment in the Energy Zone is top-tier. You’ll have private rooms, no physical labor, and the work is easy—just press a button once a day.”

The mention of “private rooms” sent a spike of unease through Mu Sichen. He exchanged a look with the others, signaling them to stay sharp.

They were led to separate suites.

Mu Sichen’s room was a massive suite, over a hundred square meters, with a bedroom, living room, and private bath. Curiously, there was no kitchen. Where the kitchen should have been, there sat a machine. It looked like a high-tech tanning bed or a game pod, just large enough for one person.

The attendant introduced the “Energy Machine”: “This is your workstation. Just lie inside, click the ‘Inject Energy’ button, and you’re done for the day. Pipes below transport the energy to the Assembly Zone. The whole process takes less than five minutes. Afterward, your time is your own.”

The attendant pointed to a TV. “You can play games—we have classics like Super Eyeball, Squeeze the Vision, Eye War: Demon Slayer, and Pupil Defense.”

Mu Sichen: “…” Those sounded like the least fun games in history.

Seeing his lack of interest, the follower continued, “We also have movies. These are all extremely popular classics.”

Mu Sichen expected titles like When the Socket Met the Pupil, but as he scanned the list, his heart skipped a beat. He saw familiar titles—legendary dramas and movies from his own world.

“Where did these come from?” Mu Sichen asked. “Is someone in Pupil Town filming these?”

“I’m not sure,” the follower replied. “But the Double-Pupil Apostle mentioned they came from… ‘outside.'”

“Outside? Other towns? Those would be Depraved lands,” Mu Sichen challenged.

The follower shook his head. “We wouldn’t play anything from the Depraved. They say these come from much further away—beyond the distant horizon.”

Are these from dead players? Mu Sichen wondered. But no one else can bring their phone in. He set the list aside, deep in thought.

“Any other entertainment?”

“Of course!” The attendant opened a back door. “We have football fields, basketball courts, tennis, swimming, golf, and even a ski slope. Many High-Level employees are out there playing right now.”

“Can I go see them?”

“Not yet! Entertainment only starts after the work is done. Please, ‘Engineer’ Chun, just get to work. It’s very simple.”

“And if I don’t want to?” Mu Sichen tested. “Will you beat me? Force me?”

The follower’s expression stiffened, but he remained polite. “How could we? All work here is voluntary. I will simply wait here until you feel like working.”

“And if I never feel like it?”

The follower’s smile lost its warmth. “Then you will wait here as well. You cannot eat, sleep, play, or leave until you are willing to work.”

Going without food or sleep for a few days was manageable, but he couldn’t stay trapped. Big Eye would wake in seven hours; if he didn’t log out by then, he’d be forcibly absorbed. Yet, he had a gut feeling that if he pressed that button, he would lose something irreplaceable.

“Can I use violence against you?” Mu Sichen asked.

The follower laughed confidently. “Mr. Chun, every follower is hand-picked for their self-defense capabilities. Please, do not attempt anything foolish.”

Mu Sichen smiled. “Two hours for the manager to check on me? I can work with that.”

He flicked his wrist, summoning his pickaxe.

The follower’s eyes widened. “I recognize that weapon. That’s the weapon used by ‘Big Eye Sha’ from the wanted posters. What’s your relationship with him?”

“We eat from the same bowl,” Mu Sichen replied, swinging the pickaxe with a heavy blow.

The follower suddenly snapped backward, his body folding in half at the waist in a way that defied human anatomy. Mu Sichen’s pickaxe hit nothing but air.

This was a first. Since his upgrade, Mu Sichen’s speed and strength were superhuman—he could punch through brick and leap to ceilings. Yet he had been dodged. Worse, as he swung again, he felt… weaker. The followers inside the plant were on a completely different level than the ones outside.

“Attacking staff? You have violated the non-violence policy,” the follower chirped from his folded position. He slapped the floor with both palms and bounced up like a spring.

In mid-air, his fingernails grew into sharp, hooked talons. He latched onto the ceiling, crouching like a gargoyle and leering down at Mu Sichen. “Excellent! A High-Level employee has initiated violence! Now I can lock you in the Energy Machine and force you to press the button until you degrade into a Mid-Level worker!”

His eyes began to bulge and grow, eventually merging into massive, compound dragonfly eyes that locked onto Mu Sichen. “I see you. There is no escape.”

Mu Sichen: “…” What kind of freakish mutation is this? Big Eye really was the master of ocular horror.

The Dragonfly-Eyed Follower lunged from the ceiling with the speed of a bullet. Mu Sichen, realizing he couldn’t outrun him, braced himself and shielded his chest with his arms.

The impact was brutal. A sickening crack echoed through the room as Mu Sichen’s left arm snapped. The follower wrapped his limbs around him like a coil of rope.

“Mr. Chun, I told you—we can defend ourselves.” The dragonfly eyes were inches from his face.

Mu Sichen turned away in disgust.

“Come along now! Provide the energy! Only then can we have a steady supply of food!”

I knew it, Mu Sichen thought. The “energy” was likely a piece of their soul. The factory required “voluntary” input, but once an employee broke the rules by attacking staff, that consent could be bypassed.

As they reached the pod, Mu Sichen planted his feet.

“Strength won’t help you,” the follower sneered. “In the Double-Pupil Zone, until an employee starts working, half of their strength is automatically siphoned and given to their attendant. You can’t win.”

That explained the weakness. But if it was only half, he still had a chance.

As the follower loosened his grip to shove him into the pod, Mu Sichen struck. He pulled out the flashlight he’d scavenged from the initial room and clicked it on, aiming the beam directly into the massive compound eyes.

Blinded, the follower shrieked and covered his face.

Mu Sichen dropped the light, gripped his pickaxe with one hand, and slammed it into the monster.

[Skill Activated: Backdoor Recruiter. -100 Energy Points.]

A streak of black appeared on Mu Sichen’s badge. This was his first time using the upgraded skill. Seeing the low cost, he swung four more times. On the fifth, the system warned him that further use would result in an exponential cost increase, so he stopped.

His badge now displayed five distinct, strange colors. The Dragonfly-Eyed Follower stared at the ceiling, his expression turning numb and vacant.

Mu Sichen had mined his “Emotions.”

Just as Chi Lian could now cut abstract concepts, Mu Sichen could now mine more than just loyalty—he could mine feelings. The five emotions he had siphoned were Malice, Greed, Appetite, Diligence, and Pain. They had all transferred to him.

The first was Malice.

Mu Sichen felt a surge of cold, unfeeling cruelty. Every strike he had landed was fueled by it. These borrowed emotions were warping his mind. He raised his pickaxe, wondering if he could just mine the follower’s life away. His broken arm throbbed with agony, and he wanted the creature to pay.

A number appeared in his mind: 2000 Energy Points to mine a life.

“Only 2000? Is your life that cheap?” Mu Sichen spat.

The pickaxe swung down, burying itself in the floor an inch from the follower’s head. Mu Sichen shook his head violently and retracted the weapon. He wasn’t acting on his own will—he was being driven by the follower’s Malice.

He forced himself to grab his backpack and yanked out the octopus plushie. “Lend me some logic,” he gasped in pain. “Anything. I’ll do whatever you want.”

The octopus peeked out, saw Mu Sichen’s deteriorating state, and reached a tentacle toward his brow.

But as Mu Sichen looked at the plushie, the Appetite he’d stolen took over. The doll looked less like a God and more like a delicious, springy piece of jelly.

As the small tentacle brushed his lips, Mu Sichen couldn’t help himself. He opened his mouth and bit it.

The octopus instantly recoiled, its big eyes filling with what looked like watery shock.

“Not sweet,” Mu Sichen muttered, licking his lips. “I thought you’d be sweet.”

He immediately punched himself in the face. “Sorry! That was the Dragonfly’s appetite talking. Try again, I promise I won’t bite.”

The doll was silent for a long moment, seemingly weighing its options, before cautiously extending the tentacle again.

Mu Sichen licked his lips again, his eyes glazed. “Is your head sweet? It looks very… snackable.”

Octopus Plushie: “…”

Author’s Note:

Mu Sichen: Pah! Not sweet at all!

Qin Zhou (aggrieved): Biting me is one thing, but slander? I am definitely sweet. Scumbag.

Mu Sichen (reluctantly): The texture is okay. Very springy.