Apostle Feather-Eye spent over forty minutes on his display of power and indoctrination.

Mu Sichen noticed a curious detail: the residents’ SAN values fluctuated within a very narrow, stable range. They barely changed at all. In contrast, the players’ values had cratered, with some dropping below 40—they were barely keeping themselves from screaming.

Why are the residents so stable? Mu Sichen wondered. Merely hearing about Big Eye caused dizziness, and wearing the cloaks drained sanity continuously. How could these people remain so unbothered?

Finally, the Apostle concluded his sermon. A Follower standing beside him announced, “Beloved residents, you are now free to go. You must return to this plaza and be back in your rooms by 7:55 PM. Until then, feel free to enjoy your lives. Every door in this town is open to you.”

Free movement during the Night? Mu Sichen had expected to be trapped in a cycle of endless brainwashing until “Day” broke. If the Night was truly this safe, why would the journal owner choose to starve himself rather than step outside?

There was a stark discrepancy between the world the journal owner perceived and the one the residents inhabited.

The Follower continued, “Under the Great Existence’s protection, Pupil Town is an absolute sanctuary—the ideal home for all. However, this safety is contingent upon your heartfelt gratitude and reverence. The ‘Degenerates’ hiding among us, those who threaten our peace, will be purified. If your heart is not sincere or your faith wavers, step forward now to receive the Apostle’s baptism. Otherwise, you may encounter… complications.”

Apostle Feather-Eye waited. When no one stepped forward, he said, “My beloved people, I wish you eternal joy and happiness within Pupil Town.”

With that, he unfurled his wings and ascended into the mist, vanishing. The Followers dispersed into the fog in various directions. The residents, too, seemed to have specific destinations in mind and moved out with purpose.

Within five minutes, the plaza was empty save for Mu Sichen and the three surviving players. Even the mystery man with the +543 SAN value was gone, having followed a group of a dozen residents.

Once the crowd cleared, one player collapsed to the ground. He was pale, his lips parched, his body trembling uncontrollably. He burst into tears, his voice cracking. “I… I tried to log out. I opened the system panel and searched for ages, but there’s no button. Can we… can we really not leave?”

Another player, whose SAN had plummeted to 26, sat silently, clawing at her eyes. She kept muttering that there were worms crawling inside them.

The wheelbarrow player—Old Niu—looked at Mu Sichen and forced a weak, grateful smile. “Thank you for earlier. You saved my life. You’re… a player too, right? I felt you hit my foot with something heavy—a metal tool. But you don’t have a weapon under your cloak now. You put it in your inventory, didn’t you?”

Old Niu was observant enough to piece together Mu Sichen’s identity from the details. Mu Sichen didn’t confirm or deny it.

Old Niu gave a bitter laugh. “Did you get a gaming pod in the mail too? I thought I was lucky to be chosen for such a high-end game. I had no idea…”

His words confirmed that the other players had shared Mu Sichen’s experience: the beta invite, the address form, the delivery of the pod, and the subsequent “transportation.”

“What’s your name?” Mu Sichen asked.

“Call me Old Niu. My ID is Daily-Grind Ox,” the man replied.

“I’m Mu,” Mu Sichen said.

“What do we do now? Wait here until 7:55?”

“Probably not a good idea.” Mu Sichen scanned the area. The mist was thickening. Within minutes, the visibility would drop to zero. Standing still was just as dangerous as exploring. Between passive waiting and active survival, the latter was riskier, but it was the only path with a future.

Mu Sichen manifested his pickaxe and approached the two despairing players. He gave each of them a sharp jab on the foot. The crying player looked up at him through tear-filled eyes.

With those two strikes, Mu Sichen’s MP bar emptied. Two fresh Ego Stickers appeared in his hand. He slapped them onto the napes of the two players. The girl who had been clawing at her eyes—a young woman—shook her head as the cooling sensation cleared her mind.

“This is all I can do for you,” Mu Sichen told them. “The rest is up to you. You have systems and starter tools. Use them. Protect yourselves.”

The young woman touched the back of her neck. Moments ago, she had been drowning in a vision of black worms burrowing into her retinas. The more she pulled at them, the more they multiplied. The urge to gouge her own eyes out had been overwhelming. But when this man touched her, the hallucinations vanished instantly.

“What is this place?” she asked, her voice trembling. “What was that winged eye-monster? What did you put on me?”

Mu Sichen looked at her SAN value. It had barely managed to climb back to 30. He shook his head. “I can’t tell you. All I can say is: don’t listen to what shouldn’t be heard, don’t look at what shouldn’t be seen. Stay rational.”

This was a world where “Knowledge” was a contagion. A player with 30 SAN couldn’t survive the mental shock of the truth. As a fellow player, Mu Sichen would help where he could, but he wasn’t a savior. His capacity was limited.

The pickaxe’s “Undermine” skill triggered on his own strength. He couldn’t “poach” a brainwashed Follower because his power was insignificant compared to Big Eye’s—unless he used Qin Zhou as a proxy. However, he could poach someone who was merely being polluted by the Apostle. But producing three stickers had drained his MP completely.

HP and MP recovered over time. HP depended on the severity of the wound, but MP fully refilled every three hours. He could make more stickers later, but for now, he was tapped out.

“Visibility is getting too low,” Mu Sichen said, looking at the encroaching white wall of fog. “I’m leaving.”

“I’m coming with you!” the three players cried in unison.

Mu Sichen shook his head. “Where I’m going is dangerous. Your minds might not handle it.”

“Then how do we survive?” the crying player asked. “How do we get home?”

“I don’t know how to get home yet. I’m just following the system’s leads. Since it brought me here, I have to play along while I’m weak,” Mu Sichen replied. “As for survival… I won’t tell you the secrets of this place, but I can give you a choice. Do you want to live ‘blissfully ignorant’ or live ‘painfully awake’? If you choose the latter, I won’t say another word—you’ll have to find the truth yourselves.”

The young woman, having nearly blinded herself in a hallucination, was the first to sharpen up. “By ‘blissfully ignorant,’ you mean like those residents, right? To be like them is to be safe.”

“Yes,” Mu Sichen nodded.

He had only just realized the truth. The journal owner and the residents were the same “class,” yet one went mad while the others were stable. The difference was faith.

When a sane person heard Big Eye’s dogma, their brain naturally resisted, causing the dizziness and SAN drop. But if you abandoned resistance—if you truly, wholeheartedly believed in Big Eye—your SAN would stabilize at a low level. You would become a mindless, numb part of the town. Safe, but no longer you.

The journal owner had seen the truth, resisted it, but lacked the strength to overcome it. His fate was inevitable madness.

Mu Sichen refused to be a resident. His only path was the one through the fire: fighting madness with logic.

The crying player gritted his teeth. “At least I’d be alive… Tell me how. Then I’ll choose.”

Mu Sichen sighed and whispered the “secret” to safety in his ear. The player froze, then realized why Mu Sichen hadn’t wanted to say it.

It was as simple as “opening your heart.” But once you knew that surrender was an option, the thought would haunt you like a curse. Every time you faced a terrifying monster or a mental breakdown, the whisper of “Just give up, it’s easier” would be there. It would never leave until you either died or became a puppet.

He smiled bitterly and looked at Old Niu and the girl. “He’s right. If you don’t have an iron will, you shouldn’t know. Ignorance is safer than understanding. Unfortunately, I’ve already heard it. If you want to stay yourselves… you’d better not ask.”

The girl and Old Niu, having felt the agony of the hallucinations, chose to stay “awake.”

The fog was now so thick they could only see each other’s silhouettes. Mu Sichen pulled his hood up. “I’m going. Where I’m headed is a death trap; I can’t protect you. If you follow me and get into trouble, I won’t save you. I might not even be able to save myself.”

He turned and walked toward the direction the +543 man had taken.

With such an abnormally high SAN, that man was definitely a “Degenerate” of high caliber. Mu Sichen needed to find the “Pillar,” and if anyone knew where a weapon against Big Eye was hidden, it was that man.

Mu Sichen vanished into the mist. The girl and Old Niu shared a look, then simultaneously sprinted after him.

Author’s Note:

Qin Zhou (playing with a tentacle): When is Mu Sichen going to come “shear” me again? He missed my power this chapter! My wool is the softest!