The owner of this Self-Sticker was a man named Ying Mao. After parting ways with Mu Sichen in the plaza, Ying Mao had actually considered following him. But when he remembered Mu Sichen saying the destination would be dangerous and that his safety couldn’t be guaranteed, Ying Mao hesitated.

He sat in the plaza for a long time as the mist thickened, his thoughts growing darker and more despondent by the minute. He figured that since he couldn’t go home, he might as well drift with the current. If he became as numb as the townspeople, at least he would survive. He began to tell himself that perhaps worshipping the “Sky Eye” wasn’t such a bad thing after all.

The more he thought about it, the more obsessed he became, as if something were calling to him from the fog. He walked into the mist and arrived at the Bright-Eye Food Processing Plant.

Being a sane, functional human, Ying Mao was naturally assigned to the Energy Zone. But seeing the food and entertainment in the High-Level suite didn’t cheer him up; instead, it made him feel worse. The so-called delicacies and movies couldn’t compare to the modern world in the slightest. Even the “classic” films were things he had seen a dozen times back home.

He realized then that these things he once looked down upon in reality were considered the height of luxury here. He couldn’t bring himself to sincerely worship some “Great Existence.” He wanted to go home.

But he was already part of the factory. There was no way out.

Under the cold gaze of a supervisor, he lay in the Energy Pod. As his finger hovered over the button, the Self-Sticker on the back of his neck emitted a faint chill. He pressed it, but the expected chime of “Work Completed” never came.

“Is the pod broken?” Ying Mao asked, clicking it several more times in front of the supervisor.

The supervisor frowned, leaning in. “That shouldn’t be possible. This is a miracle machine gifted by the Great Existence. How could it break?”

Ying Mao, feeling no reverence at all, remarked, “The Great Existence Himself has to close His eyes for twelve hours a day. Why would his machines run perfectly forever? Everything needs maintenance. This button just isn’t reacting. If you don’t believe me, you try it.”

“You lowly worker!” The supervisor, previously polite, suddenly flared up with arrogant rage. “This button is for workers only! You dare suggest I perform such menial labor? Press it now, or suffer the consequences!”

Enduring the verbal abuse, Ying Mao felt a surge of indignation. He secretly activated his starting item: the Invisible Gloves.

The gloves had a skill called “Sleight of Hand,” a thieving ability that allowed him to steal items from a target’s body upon contact without being detected.

Ying Mao adopted a submissive tone. “Fine, since you won’t believe me, why don’t you grab my hand and press it with me? Use your strength. We’ll see if I’m being lazy or if the machine is dead. If it works, my job is done; if it doesn’t, we’ll need the Workshop Director to fix it.”

Thinking this was reasonable, the supervisor haughtily grabbed Ying Mao’s hand. He didn’t realize that at that exact moment, Ying Mao had already “stolen” the supervisor’s finger. Because of the skill’s numbing effect, the supervisor didn’t even feel the pain of the loss.

Using the supervisor’s own finger, Ying Mao pressed the button dozens of times. The Energy Pod finally chimed with success. Ying Mao acted surprised: “Oh! It actually worked! Why was it—”

He looked at the supervisor. The man’s expression had gone completely vacant, as if his soul had been sucked dry.

Ying Mao nearly screamed. He realized then that the pod hadn’t been broken—the Self-Sticker Mu Sichen left him had sensed his reluctance and protected him. The chill on his neck had been the sticker absorbing the drain. Without it, he would be the one standing there like a mindless doll.

Terrified, Ying Mao tried to flee. He wanted to get back to the plaza, find Mu Sichen, and find his real companions. But he couldn’t get out. He was intercepted at the gate and told he couldn’t leave until the shift ended.

Agitated, he began to argue with the guards, shouting that his work was done. This “disobedience” prompted the guards to “teach him a lesson.”

What happened next shocked Mu Sichen.

Ying Mao, fueled by some unknown surge of power, snatched the whip from a guard’s hand and actually began beating the guards back. He knocked several down and sprinted for the exit, only to be blocked by a man with three pupils in each eye.

The pressure this man radiated was no less than that of the Apostle of the Feather. This was likely the Double-Pupil Apostle, the master of the factory.

The Apostle narrowed his eyes and extended three fingers. “Before the Pillar… kneel!”

His triple pupils glowed with an eerie light, a power designed to dominate the soul. Yet Ying Mao remained standing. “You want me to kneel just because you say so? You think having three pupils makes you special? I’m a Player! These snacks and cakes you give the ‘elites’ wouldn’t even fool a kid. Have you ever had milk tea? Seen a 3D movie? Played VR? Been to a theme park?”

As he spoke, the three pupils in the Apostle’s left eye miraculously merged into one, while Ying Mao’s own left eye suddenly developed three pupils.

A strange brilliance erupted from Ying Mao’s gaze. The surrounding followers shrank back in fear. A clash of light erupted between Ying Mao and the Apostle as their powers neutralized each other. Ying Mao was suddenly standing on equal footing with a high-level Apostle.

Confidence surged through him. This is just a game, he thought. I’m a Player with a cheat code! I’m not afraid of you!

He lunged at the Apostle, but then, a single white feather drifted from the sky.

Ying Mao looked up. The Apostle of the Feather was descending from above. He looked at the Double-Pupil Apostle with pure disdain. “Useless.”

The winged Apostle spread his feathers, and countless eyes opened before Ying Mao. The trauma from the plaza flooded back. Ying Mao’s courage evaporated instantly, and the triple pupils in his eye flowed back to their original owner.

Ying Mao fell to his knees, immediately swarmed and restrained by guards.

The Apostle of the Feather retracted his wings. “As a noble servant of the Sky Eye, you were nearly bested by a ‘Depraved’ soul. You are unfit to manage this plant.”

“You dare!” the Double-Pupil Apostle snarled.

Feathers began to wrap around the factory master. “Incompetence has no place here. Surrender your power to me.”

Just as the Double-Pupil Apostle was about to be consumed, a gate guard rushed out. “Lord Apostle! The volunteers at the Sanitarium have sent a distress signal! A ‘Depraved’ soul is attacking the patients!”

The Apostle of the Feather paused, pulling back his feathers. “Consider yourself lucky. Once I settle the chaos at the Sanitarium, I will return for this factory.” He took flight and vanished.

The Double-Pupil Apostle stood up shakily, smoothed his clothes, and looked coldly at the guards. “Take this worker. Demote him to the Breeding Grounds.”

Ying Mao thought he was going to die, but they didn’t kill him. They sent him to Assembly first. There, he realized the truth: the “miracle machines” that made the bread were powered by the emotions stolen in the Energy Zone.

The Mid-Level workers there, though numb, still looked down on Ying Mao with a bizarre sense of superiority. They locked him in a “Punishment Room,” labeling him the “Bottom Worker” of the day, destined to be voted down to the Breeding Grounds.

He learned then that Assembly held a daily vote to discard one employee to the Breeding Grounds. No one ever returned.

Ying Mao waited in terror for the vote, like a man on death row. But the vote never happened. A sudden, violent earthquake shook the entire town, lasting for an eternity before subsiding. The town was in chaos, and the vote was suspended.

When “Daylight” came, Ying Mao hid in the dark. He could feel a terrifying gaze from the sky, but it was focused elsewhere. He survived the Day, and when “Night” fell, he heard the news.

Four “Depraved” souls had seized the Sanitarium and nearly killed the Apostle of the Feather. The Sky Eye was furious and was currently trying to retake the building.

The photos of those four souls were plastered everywhere.

Ying Mao looked at the familiar faces of Mu Sichen, Chi Lian, and Cheng Xubo and wept. His friends had gone to the most dangerous place and won. And he, out of a moment of cowardice, had ended up in this hellhole.

Hope flickered in his heart. Maybe they would come for him. Under that intense hope, his faded Self-Sticker began to glow again.

For three days, the factory suspended the votes. But today, they resumed. Because no one had been sent down for three days, the Breeding Grounds were severely understaffed. They needed four workers immediately.

Ying Mao was the first chosen.

He also saw a hideously deformed man, covered in eyes, who had been chosen last. This newcomer was new to the factory, while Ying Mao was the priority.

He had run out of time.

Ying Mao was escorted to the Breeding Grounds. There, he saw the endless fields and the livestock. He also saw the massive Sky Eye totem carved into the earth, and the piles of bleached bones.

As he was forced onto the totem, he finally understood how the crops grew so lushly without farmers. Their life force—the very essence of the people sent here—was drained into the soil. They were the fertilizer. They were the feed.

This was the “Divine Grace” the people of Bright-Eye Town were so proud of.

Life becomes the food. Emotion becomes the fuel. They are eating themselves, Ying Mao realized. What a joke. What a lie.

In his final moments, Ying Mao had only one wish. He didn’t want to be fertilizer for this nightmare. He wanted to go home, even if only as a soul. He regretted not fighting beside his friends.

If I had one more chance… I’d want to be one of them.

Mu Sichen held the sticker, a single tear tracing a path down his cheek.

“Why are you crying?” Chi Lian and Cheng Xubo asked, startled by his sudden reaction.

Mu Sichen took a tissue from Chi Lian and wiped his eye. “It’s not me crying. It’s Ying Mao.”

“Who’s Ying Mao?” they asked.

“Our teammate,” Mu Sichen replied. He briefly recounted everything he had seen.

Chi Lian burst into tears, clutching her own tissues. “I thought he was just a coward back at the plaza. If I’d known… I should have dragged him with us!”

Cheng Xubo slapped himself across the face. “I’m a piece of work. I ignored him too.”

Mu Sichen knew they were all to blame in some way, but there was no time for guilt. He gripped the sticker until it pressed deep into his palm. “Let’s destroy this place.”

“Destroy it!” Chi Lian sobbed. “I’ll do anything. Just let me tear it down!”

Cheng Xubo tried to stay rational. “I’m with you. But we still have two problems. How do we get into the Breeding Grounds, and how do we handle the guards? That ‘Average Power’ rule is suicide. No matter how strong we are, they take half our strength.”

Mu Sichen looked at the sticker now tattooed into his palm. “The second problem is already solved. Ying Mao solved it for us.”

“How?”

“I finally understand why Shen Jiyue tried to keep us in the Energy Zone,” Mu Sichen said. “He was afraid we’d discover the secret of the power split. The Pillar is a program; it isn’t sentient. Its rules apply to everyone equally. The reason the guards take our power instead of the other way around is because of Superiority.”

The factory’s Pillar feeds on superiority. It protects whoever feels more “superior” in a conflict. Ying Mao, coming from a modern world, looked down on the factory’s “advancements” with genuine contempt. He knew he was a Player from a vibrant world, making him “better” than the Apostle. That sense of superiority allowed him to strip the Apostle of half his power and go on a rampage.

He only lost when the Apostle of the Feather arrived. The terror he felt for that monster erased his superiority, and the rules of the Pillar stopped protecting him.

“So,” Cheng Xubo said, catching on, “as long as we truly believe that we—as people with ‘Self’ and dignity—are superior to these hollow, mindless guards, the Pillar will work for us?”

Mu Sichen nodded.

“Ying Mao gave his life for that intel,” Chi Lian whispered.

“Now for the last problem,” Cheng Xubo said. “How do we get into the Breeding Grounds? Do we cause a scene and get ‘demoted’?”

“No,” Mu Sichen said. “That puts us on their terms. We need to slip in. I was wondering if my ‘Siphon’ skill could…”

He was interrupted by a loud broadcast echoing through the room.

“Attention all staff. Attention all staff. A worker from the Breeding Grounds has escaped. Name: Ying Mao. If you see this individual, apprehend him immediately and return him to the Breeding Grounds.”

“Repeat: Important notice…”

The TV in the room flickered on, displaying Ying Mao’s face.

Mu Sichen stared at the screen, his expression hardening into cold resolve. “Actually… Ying Mao just solved the second problem for us, too.”