The Breeding Grounds were vast. Given that this area produced enough food to sustain the entire population of Bright-Eye Town, its scale was incomparable to the Sanitarium, where one could run through every room in under an hour.

Mu Sichen had no vehicle. If he relied solely on his feet to find the Pillar’s exact location, he’d likely still be walking when “Daylight” arrived. He needed the Pillar to find him.

This was exactly why he had donned Ying Mao’s face.

With Ying Mao’s soul residing in his left hand and his face mirrored on his own, the probability was high that the Pillar would mistake him for the fugitive and initiate a search. Even if the disguise failed, the Pillar was unlikely to let a runaway soul go free.

Mu Sichen found a flat stretch of wasteland and sat down, preparing to play the waiting game. He stayed clear of the crops; while they were fueled by stolen life energy, the produce itself was untainted. These fields would one day be the townspeople’s livelihood, and he didn’t want to cause unnecessary destruction.

Time ticked by, but the Pillar did not appear. A sense of unease began to gnaw at him.

If his analysis was correct, the Big Eye totem should have manifested above or beneath him the moment he stepped into the Breeding Grounds. Yet here he was, loitering in the open, even hand-picking a suitable battlefield, and the Pillar remained silent.

Mu Sichen wasn’t omniscient. In Bright-Eye Town, he was constantly feeling for stones to cross the river—guessing, being proven wrong, and guessing again. But based on Ying Mao’s memories, this logic felt airtight. Where was the flaw?

He stood up, pacing in circles as he thought.

A Pillar was a strange entity: the energy source that upheld a God’s domain, yet strangely fragile when targeted by a “Depraved” soul from within. Someone like Yao Wangping, armed with Qin Zhou’s Guardian Sword, could shatter one. Compared to other Gods, Big Eye seemed relatively weak—a mere “Star-Hiding” grade compared to Qin Zhou’s near “Heavens-Covering” status. Because there were many “Depraved” souls in town, Big Eye had to hide its Pillars meticulously.

Accessing a Pillar required specific conditions. In the Sanitarium, one had to reach the absolute depths of despair. Here in the Factory, the requirement was likely “Superiority”—the Pillar would only manifest for someone whom everyone else looked down upon as an inferior being.

If Mu Sichen had entered as himself, he wouldn’t have summoned the Pillar; he would have summoned a powerful Apostle like the Winged Eye or the Double-Pupil. To the system, Mu Sichen was a confident “High-Level” employee. No worker would feel superior to him.

But now he had Ying Mao’s face and soul. He fit the criteria. So why hadn’t the Pillar appeared? Could it see past the mask to his essence? Unlikely. If the Pillar were that intelligent, it wouldn’t have been checkmated by a logical loophole back at the Sanitarium.

Mu Sichen reviewed every detail: the intake registry, the dragonfly-eyed supervisors, Shen Jiyue’s intel, the team’s reconnaissance, and Ying Mao’s final memories. The images flashed like a film strip until they froze on two specific points.

First: Shen Jiyue had said Yao Wangping had already infiltrated Assembly and would reach the Breeding Grounds before them. To avoid recognition, Yao had even mutilated his own face.

Second: Ying Mao’s memory of the “four-man quota.” Because no one had been sent down for three days, the factory had chosen four people today. Ying Mao was the first. The last was a man covered in eyes—a terrifying, unrecognizable newcomer.

Mu Sichen’s eyes snapped open. Yao Wangping.

Ying Mao was the first to be “consumed,” but his soul had escaped to Mu Sichen. Behind him, three others were still in the queue. If the process of feeding the Pillar hadn’t stopped while they were busy at the fence, it was likely Yao Wangping’s turn right now.

Yao wasn’t the type to let himself be absorbed. If he had entered this place, he had a plan to strike.

Mu Sichen felt a surge of panic. If Yao Wangping destroyed the Pillar now, Mu Sichen would fail his promise to the people of the Sanitarium. He had to find Yao—now.

He pulled the octopus plushie from his bag. “Do you know where Yao Wangping is? Can you take me to him?”

The octopus curled its tentacles into a ball and squeezed its “Katy Perry” eyes shut, looking as detached and zen as a sleeping cat. Mu Sichen knew immediately that the plushie wouldn’t help.

Qin Zhou’s only goal was the destruction of the Pillars and Big Eye. He had only lent Mu Sichen strength because Yao Wangping had been corrupted at the Sanitarium. Qin Zhou had essentially discarded Yao the moment he marked Mu Sichen with his totem. But Mu Sichen had since purified Yao. Now that Yao was once again a fanatical, “clean” follower, Qin Zhou was perfectly happy to let him do the dirty work. He had no reason to help Mu Sichen interfere.

Friendship with a plushie only went so far. When it came down to the Pillar, Qin Zhou chose the Pillar.

Mu Sichen zipped his bag tight, his brow furrowed. Then, his gaze fell on his Level 15 pickaxe.

The system described the tool as “indignant” toward the Guardian Sword. This personification suggested the tool had a burgeoning consciousness.

Mu Sichen gripped the handle. “Hey. It looks like that Guardian Sword found the Pillar first.”

The pickaxe gave a slight, sharp tremor.

“I just asked Qin Zhou,” Mu Sichen continued, “and it’s obvious He likes the Sword better. He won’t even tell me where it is.”

The pickaxe began to vibrate violently in his hand.

“Last time, if Yao hadn’t been corrupted, we might not have been a match for that sword, right?”

The tool’s rage was now palpable. It lurched out of his hand, dragging him in a specific direction with frantic energy. Mu Sichen held on tight as they sprinted across the wasteland. At full tilt, he felt like he was hitting fifty kilometers per hour—a human motorcycle.

He ran for nearly half an hour until he saw it: a towering pillar of light in the distance, with a winged figure circling it in the air.

The Apostle of the Feather.

The Pillar was situated in a massive cornfield. The stalks were being trampled and shredded in the chaos, a sight that made Mu Sichen’s heart ache for the future farmers.

The pickaxe wanted to charge, but Mu Sichen forced it into his weapon slot. The air around him distorted as the tool resisted, but it eventually settled. He slipped into the corn, using the tall stalks as cover to creep toward the light.

A few minutes later, the battle came into view.

The Double-Pupil Apostle and the Apostle of the Feather were double-teaming a single man. Despite the horrific facial mutilations, Mu Sichen knew it was Yao Wangping.

Beneath the Apostles lay a massive Sky Eye totem. At its center were several piles of bleached bones—today’s “sacrifices.” One of them might have been Ying Mao’s physical remains.

Yao Wangping’s left arm had mutated into a terrifying mechanical limb that lashed out at the sky. The Double-Pupil Apostle was bombarding him with rays of red light from a thousand eyes, but Yao was shielded by a faint, golden glow.

The source of the shield was Yao’s own chest. He had driven the Guardian Sword through his own heart to channel enough of Qin Zhou’s power to withstand a God.

Mu Sichen didn’t know whether to be impressed or repulsed. Qin Zhou and his “Ideal Town” seemed to be made entirely of people like Yao—rational, cold, and willing to sacrifice anything.

Mu Sichen crept closer, circling behind the Apostles. If he timed it right, he could leap out and seize the Pillar before Yao could finish it. He felt a sting of guilt, but it wasn’t enough to make him turn back.

However, a new problem arose: Energy.

One look at this Pillar told him it was far more powerful than the one at the Sanitarium. With only 2,700 energy points left, he couldn’t even “siphon” a common follower, let alone a Pillar of this magnitude. Last time, it had taken thirty “Self” stickers to generate one Pillar-grade sticker. By his estimate, this one would require at least a hundred. He had zero.

And the little octopus in his bag clearly wasn’t going to bail him out.

Surprisingly, the realization brought a sense of relief. He no longer had to choose between his morals and his mission—reality had made the choice for him. He couldn’t play the “sneaky thief” because he lacked the resources. He would have to fight.

Mu Sichen drew the pickaxe. The moment the Guardian Sword came within twenty meters, the tool’s “Indignation” hit its peak.

[Indignant Strike]!

A silver flash cut through the swarm of eyes surrounding the Double-Pupil Apostle. With a heavy thud, the Apostle was slammed into the dirt.

A system prompt chimed in Mu Sichen’s ear:

[Congratulations! You have defeated one Pillar-grade Apostle. Pillar-grade Self-Sticker: 40% Charged. Please continue to defeat Pillar-grade Apostles. At 100%, you will receive one Pillar-grade Self-Sticker.]

Author’s Note:

Octopus (tucking paws): Don’t get it twisted. Just because we shower together, eat together, and you buy me snacks, doesn’t mean we’re friends. We’re rivals. I’m not helping you.

Mu Sichen: Fine. I’ll do it myself.

Octopus (teary-eyed): …You could at least ask! I’m so mad!