By using his own pickaxe and siphoning energy from an external source, Mu Sichen had successfully triggered the “Undermine” skill and obtained an Ego Sticker.

The sticker served as a mental defense item, helping the user maintain clarity. Its effectiveness would scale with Mu Sichen’s own growth. Reflecting on the skill, Mu Sichen felt it shouldn’t be called “Undermining the Foundations”—it felt more like “Shearing the Sheep,” given how he’d managed to pluck resources from both the Great Existence and Qin Zhou simultaneously.

Regardless, he finally had his first truly useful tool.

His plan was to slip into the town during the “Night” to locate the “Pillar” and find a way to establish a Safe House, thereby completing the System’s newbie mission. To do this, he had to wear the Follower’s cloak. However, the garment radiated a foul energy; he suspected that wearing it would plunge him into a semi-lucid state, making it impossible to complete his task with a clear mind.

Fortunately, the Ego Sticker had arrived just in time to counter the cloak’s corruption.

The System suggested he apply the sticker to the back of his neck. This placement would protect the brain from above and the central nervous system of the spine from below, providing the most comprehensive coverage.

Mu Sichen peeled the sticker and pressed it to his nape. The moment it touched his skin, it vanished. He couldn’t feel it physically, but a subtle, refreshing chill bloomed at the base of his skull—a phantom tattoo guarding his mind.

The chill sharpened his focus. His eyes fell on the food tray on the floor.

The meal consisted of simple bread, eggs, mineral water, and a few cherry tomatoes. When he’d first looked at them, they had seemed normal. Now, with a clearer mind, he saw a transparent eyeball floating in the water.

The Great Existence of Pupil Town really is obsessed with eyes.

Luckily, the bread and eggs were untainted. Mu Sichen was famished; he devoured the food so quickly he nearly choked.

Five minutes remained until 8:00 PM. Mu Sichen moved fast, tightening the Follower’s restraints. The man was still resisting feebly, mumbling a jumble of “Degenerate… destroy… Xiangping… safe…”

To be safe, Mu Sichen gave the Follower another tap on the head with the pickaxe. The man’s HP dropped to a mere $1/10$, and he finally fell silent.

Mu Sichen propped the man’s head on the desk and tucked the radio against his ear, turning the volume to a whisper that only the captive could hear. This was a precaution; he couldn’t lock the door from the outside when he left. As long as the Follower remained incapacitated and distracted by the broadcast, Mu Sichen’s sanctuary remained safe.

Of course, he didn’t plan to keep the “Resident No. 629” identity forever. He would find a chance to swap identities once outside.

He stowed the flashlight and other essentials in his backpack, but the pickaxe refused to go in. As he was wondering how to conceal the large tool, a “ding” echoed in his mind. He opened the system screen and found an Upgrade button in the weapon tab.

It turned out that by neutralizing a Follower, the pickaxe had gained experience.

Mu Sichen: “…”

Why is the pickaxe leveling up instead of me?

He clicked upgrade. The Level 0 weapon became Level 1. The rusted head vanished, replaced by a pristine, silver-black metal that gleamed with a cold, sharp luster. Simultaneously, a dedicated Weapon Slot appeared in his backpack, allowing him to store any weapon Level 1 or higher.

Mu Sichen stowed the pickaxe and practiced a quick-draw, ensuring he could manifest the tool in an instant. Ready, he leaned against the door, counting down to the “Night.”

7:59:50. Suddenly, a dangerous, reckless idea took hold. Because the Follower had entered the room, the door was currently unlocked from the outside. What if, he thought, I crack the door at the 59th second and take a single peek at the “Day”?

The act could shatter his mind, but if the exposure lasted only a fraction of a second, the Ego Sticker might keep him tethered to reality.

The Great Existence was clearly the ultimate obstacle to “lighting up” Pupil Town. If he didn’t even have the courage to look at his enemy, he had no chance of winning. It was a gamble, but a calculated one.

58 seconds. No time to hesitate.

Mu Sichen touched the phantom tattoo on his neck. At the 59th second, he twisted the handle and stepped out.

The exposure lasted only an instant.

Mu Sichen’s world exploded. A searing, white-hot pain lanced through the back of his neck, followed by an agonizing pressure in his eyes. It felt as if the fluid in his sockets was boiling, ready to detonate his eyeballs from the inside out. He clamped his hand over his face; blood began to leak from his left eye, warm and wet against his fingers.

In that split second, he couldn’t even process the entirety of what he saw.

His mind retained only a fragment: a gargantuan, bloodshot eye hanging in the heavens. Its eyelashes were not hair, but countless writhing, reddish-black worms. From the sides of this celestial orb, white feathers drifted down like snow, glowing with a deceptive, holy light that dissolved into a luminous mist as they fell.

A deafening, thunderous choir erupted in his skull. His logic failed him, but he felt as though a great door was swinging open before him. Beyond that door lay a heaven of feathers—a place where pain ceased to exist.

Mu Sichen’s leg moved forward involuntarily.

Suddenly, a blast of icy air surged from the tattoo on his neck. It traveled down his spine, striking his limbs like a thousand freezing needles. The sharp pain snapped him back.

He froze. That moment of clarity was enough. The phantom door vanished, and the celestial choir faded into the background.

Trembling and gasping for air, Mu Sichen slumped to the floor and checked his watch.

8:00 PM sharp.

It felt as though he had endured eons of purgatory, yet only a single second had passed. He had caught only a glimpse of the “Great Existence”—not even its full form—and yet the cost was devastating.

The Ego Sticker’s power was completely spent. He no longer had an external shield. Inside the cloak, he could still hear the distant, faint echoes of that choir. It was a haunting, persistent siren song, but for now, his willpower could keep it at bay.

The loss was heavy. But the gains were monumental.

Mu Sichen lowered his head, hiding a bloody, triumphant smile behind his cloak.

[Player successfully withstood a strike from a “Hidden Star.” SAN System activated.]

[Player successfully peeked at a “Hidden Star.” Knowledge obtained.]

Vast amounts of data flooded his mind along with the trauma. This world was a paradox: “Knowing” an Eldritch being corrupted the soul, but “Peeking” at one was a death sentence that—if survived—yielded god-tier knowledge.

By risking his life, he had unlocked the Sanity (SAN) system.

He could now see his total Sanity and his current levels, allowing him to calculate exactly how much pollution he could withstand and for how long. If he hadn’t peeked, he would have been walking blind through a minefield.

Furthermore, he had obtained information that no Follower or Kin would ever reveal.

The System had identified the entity as a “Hidden Star” (藏星). Above “Hidden Star” were the ranks of “Sun-Obscurer” (蔽日) and “Heaven-Coverer” (弥天). These were the realms of the gods, knowledge forbidden to mortals. A “Hidden Star” was the threshold—the boundary where a human ascended into the Unspeakable.

Ordinary people could never know the path to becoming a Hidden Star. Even if a god tried to explain it, the mere vibration of the words would liquefy a human’s brain. Only a defiant soul who dared to “peek” and desecrate the divine realm could steal such secrets.

The Great Existence of Pupil Town was a “Hidden Star” currently evolving toward becoming a “Sun-Obscurer.” Once it could maintain an eternal “Day,” its evolution would be complete.

Mu Sichen didn’t learn how to become a god, but he did find the key word: “Pillar.”

Whether it was a human becoming a Star or a Star becoming a Sun, “Pillars” were the requirement. This was exactly what the System wanted him to find.

He didn’t know what a Pillar was yet, but he finally had a direction. He decided to give the Hidden Star of Pupil Town a more fitting nickname: Big Eye. Everything Big Eye did in this town was likely a preparation to strengthen its “Pillar.” By observing the daily routines of the Kin and Followers, he could reverse-engineer the truth.

It was a victory snatched from the jaws of madness. Had he been “prudent,” he might have spent the rest of his life looking for a literal physical pillar.

But the danger was far from over.

Mu Sichen blinked. His right eye was functional, but his left was a red, blurred mess. In his mind, the choir sang on, a constant tax on his psyche.

He checked his status. His Max SAN was 100. After Big Eye’s glance, he was down to 88.

However, the cloak drained 3 SAN per hour. The internal choir drained another 3 SAN per hour.

At a rate of 6 SAN per hour, the twelve hours of “Night” would cost him 72 points. By dawn, he would be at 16 SAN.

At 16 points, he would be standing on the precipice of total, irreversible insanity. He had to find a way out of this mental attrition—and fast.

Author’s Note:

Big Eye: Someone just peeked at me.

Qin Zhou: I’ve been looking at that person for quite a while.