Chu Xuzhou immediately reflected on whether he had taken sides earlier.
Taking sides was no good. Being fair and impartial meant helping no one, but breaking up the fight was wrong, and not doing so was wrong too.
He knew that in this situation, whatever he did would be wrong. So he apologized readily. “Sorry.”
Then he admitted his mistake. “I’ve been to other worlds, and that was wrong of me.”
“You see, he’s been out too,” Yin Bujie said to Bai Chen. “Why are you only upset with me? You should kick this boyfriend of yours to the curb first. You’re still young—what do you need romance for? If you need love… well, Daddy can give you plenty more from now on.”
“It’s different,” Bai Chen replied. “He wasn’t from our world to begin with.”
Yin Bujie paused, stunned. “An outsider corpse!”
“Even though he came from the outside world, this place is my home,” Chu Xuzhou said.
“…”
All three were convinced that Chu Xuzhou was a smooth talker who knew how to coax people.
In truth, that was exactly how it was for him.
The world of his birth had long faded into a blur. In his early years, he had drifted through several worlds, never staying long in any—the longest just over a decade. But after arriving here, he had remained for more than three hundred years. No longer alone, he had built the ever-growing Corpse Clan.
If asked which world was home, this one was, without question.
When he first came, there was no Qiao Qingshuang or Yin Bujie. He had wandered the lands, traversing every corner and bearing witness to the world’s rises and falls.
He had seen it merely as drifting then. But upon learning that Bai Chen was the embodiment of this world’s consciousness, Chu Xuzhou’s heart jolted. Suddenly, it all held new meaning.
He remembered their first meeting, when Bai Chen had wanted to fight him. Chu Xuzhou had told him his energy was too weak to win.
To his surprise, Bai Chen knocked him out immediately. It happened again and again.
Far from anger or defeat, Chu Xuzhou felt exhilaration. For the first time in centuries, he was curious—about a person, about anything at all.
Curious how someone with such feeble energy could overpower him.
Curious how he could have lingered in this world so long without knowing of such power.
Curious what sort of being would stand at the world’s pinnacle yet choose stardom.
Curious why such strength came with flashes of innocence.
Curious why a mere touch warmed his body, frozen for hundreds of years.
Curious about that night, when the moon incarnate writhed amid the tangle of blood vessels.
…
His curiosity knew no bounds, a thirst to unravel an endless book he had yet to open.
And yet, this was the world’s own consciousness—and one he had wandered for centuries, more familiar than his own veins, visible with eyes closed. How miraculous.
Chu Xuzhou, of course, kept all this to himself. “This world suits me best by nature,” he said.
Liu Mo nodded furiously. He itched to step forward and vouch for the living dead man: other worlds truly couldn’t handle him; they crumbled the moment he arrived.
The other three, however, stared in astonishment at his brazen claim.
“In the past, I’ve only offered modest aid to this world’s growth,” Chu Xuzhou said humbly. “I’m ready to devote my life to its progress.”
Yin Bujie snorted coldly. “As if you’re the only one fit to advance the world?”
Qiao Qingshuang turned to him. “And what have you done? Led evil anomalies to plague humanity?”
Yin Bujie: “…”
“I’ve enriched the world’s biodiversity,” Yin Bujie shot back. “Would it be right if everyone were just good and normal? What’s that supposed to mean, taking his side?”
“I’m not taking his side,” Qiao Qingshuang replied. “I’m just coming for you. Thought you should know.”
“…”
As Yin Bujie rose, looking ready for another brawl, Chu Xuzhou turned to Bai Chen. “What are your plans going forward?”
Yin Bujie snapped his gaze over at once. Qiao Qingshuang looked up. Even Jiang Yuanmu, head bowed over the little cat in his arms, flicked his ears faintly.
This, clearly, was what mattered most to them.
Bewilderment flickered across Bai Chen’s face—not uncertainty about the future, but puzzlement at the question itself and their fixation on it. “Same as always, of course. I won’t abandon a single one of you.”
“…”
Delighted, Bai Chen pulled out his phone. “I’ll make a group chat. Let’s call it 【Loving Harmonious Family】.”
“…”
No one else saw the appeal—not even Liu Mo, the bystander, who found it ridiculous to imagine Qiao Qingshuang and Yin Bujie together in a 【Loving Harmonious Family】.
Bai Chen begged to differ. His contacts held only Chu Xuzhou; he added the other three one by one and dragged them into the group.
Bliss.
No more frantic juggling of deceptions like some time management master.
Jiang Yuanmu was indifferent, lost in the wonder of sharing a chat with A Nuan. Yin Bujie and Qiao Qingshuang bristled at first, but his beaming smile stopped them cold.
For once, they agreed: all he wanted was a bit more love.
And since he lived on love, more it would be.
Liu Mo could scarcely believe it. A revelation crisis that might have doomed the world had fizzled out just like that.
His phone buzzed with @s from the group. He fired off a few replies outlining the situation, then looked up to find Yin Bujie gone. Qiao Qingshuang stood by Jiang Yuanmu, murmuring something. Moments later, they vanished together.
Bai Chen and Chu Xuzhou headed out. Liu Mo stepped aside on instinct—only for Bai Chen’s eyes to find him.
So he knew. And knew right where he was.
With that, Liu Mo dropped his invisibility. Tension and sheepish awkwardness mingled as he stood exposed.
“I need to see Du Feili—and the rest of you,” Bai Chen said. “At the Old Place.”
The Old Place?
Du Feili and Bai Chen had a spot like that?
The book transmigrators in the group were bombarding Du Feili with the same question.
Du Feili was utterly lost. He’d plunged into this novel countless times, but Bai Chen? Never met him—not even that first encounter, when Bai Chen was still a cat. Not a word exchanged. An Old Place? What Old Place?
Bai Chen paid no mind and went ahead.
Chu Xuzhou followed doggedly, honoring his vow to stick close whenever called. Bai Chen allowed it, guiding him to a Mountain Cave not far from Everbright Street.
A small woodpile cluttered the entrance, alongside a straw pallet serving as a bed. Signs of past habitation—human or otherwise.
Bai Chen scanned the dim, dank space. “This is where I transformed,” he told Chu Xuzhou. “‘Born’ sounds off.”
“Snow fell heavy that day. I hunkered here for days till it let up, then headed down to find people,” Bai Chen continued. “Later, after linking up with Jiang Yuanmu, I stashed evil anomalies here—ones I’d prepped for him.”
Chu Xuzhou examined every inch with reverence, as if surveying humanity’s cradle. It left Bai Chen oddly flustered.
Better he just look at him instead.
Luckily, Du Feili’s group arrived promptly.
The other book transmigrators lingered on Everbright Street. By the time Liu Mo teleported back, Du Feili had pieced it together.
Lu Dong’s words had sparked it: leaving the Mad Flower Blood Moon novel, only to be yanked back; exiting and hauling teammates in—all courtesy of Bai Chen, no doubt.
Bai Chen himself had confirmed aiding Du Feili’s rollbacks and restarts.
Thus, the Old Place.
Du Feili lost his Book Transmigration System after the second dive into Mad Flower Blood Moon. It couldn’t extract him, but he’d cracked the code: full moon nights, specific spot, back to reality.
That was early in the second run. Broke and green at scraping by here—no meals, forget hotels.
Parks at first, but they sucked him into vagrant dream realms and worse. So: empty underpasses or caves.
One night atop the ridge, a glaring light pierced the gloom. Starved, battered, numb from cold, senses failing, he latched onto it, staggering into a cave.
Pitch black inside. A few steps, blinding radiance—eyes tearing open, home sweet home.
Du Feili brought the book transmigrators to the cave. Bai Chen stepped out and beckoned.
The others hung back. Dong Man ventured first. “Teacher Bai Chen, you wanted us… for what?”
“Thanks for liking me.”
And in she flew, into the cave.
Bai Chen wasted no words after, hurling them in one after another. Du Feili last.
“You know the drill by now—no send-off needed?” Bai Chen said.
Du Feili: “…”
He marched right in, heart churning with a storm of feelings. En route, he’d suspected: summoning them here meant dismissal. Killing? Unnecessary hassle.
Hard to credit, but true—he was letting them go.
A hunch settled in: final exit. No more of this nightmare novel.
Elation surged, bittersweet.
Du Feili glanced back at Bai Chen. “You pulled me in from the beginning?”
“First time was pure fluke,” Bai Chen said. “But meaningful. A weirdo drops in. Eavesdropping on him and his Book Transmigration System sub-unit taught me the truth: I’m a novel. A forbidden one.”
“Truth hit hard—grief, resentment. Banned? Caged in a black box all that time? Wanted you to really see it, harvest some energy through you. So after you left, back you came.”
“At some point, a Book Transmigration System touched down in our world,” Du Feili explained their side before departing. “Ever since, we’ve hopped novels via those systems, grabbing resources.”
“It was from that moment on that our world began strictly screening and classifying novels, banning many dangerous ones,” Du Feili said. “Not only for children—even the novels available to us adults were extremely safe, and they only grew safer over time. Those perilous stories? Aside from a handful of physical copies in private hands, they never saw the light of day again.”
After entering the world of Mad Flower Blood Moon, Du Feili had wholeheartedly agreed with the Book Transmigration Bureau’s decision to ban certain novels. They were far too dangerous.
Yet now that he knew Bai Chen’s true identity, a sliver of doubt crept into his mind regarding that very decision.
What if the banned novels possessed consciousness?
For the naive Bai Chen of that era, what did being sealed away even mean?
And worse, it seemed that the bans had unleashed even greater dangers.
“No need for such talk,” came another voice from within the mountain cave. Chu Xuzhou’s tone betrayed no sarcasm. “You and your Book Transmigration Systems forced open the gates to worlds weaker than your own—while slamming shut the gates leading from stronger worlds into yours.”
“You can pry open doors to the weak,” Chu Xuzhou continued, his words carrying no overt threat but rather the solemn admonition of an elder, “but you cannot seal the paths from the mighty into your realm.”
Du Feili stared toward the cave mouth without responding. He didn’t know what to say. Earlier that day, the Living Dead had asked him outright if it was thrilling to plunder resources from other novel worlds. That alone told Du Feili everything—the Living Dead knew it all.
He suspected his Rewind Skill had reset time and the world itself, but it hadn’t touched the Living Dead’s memories. The weight of time clinging to that creature was immense, spanning not just one world but many.
During the period when the Living Dead had wandered their reality, it must have uncovered everything—perhaps even more than Du Feili himself knew.
Bai Chen, for his part, hadn’t dwelled on such matters. He simply waved at Du Feili and said, “Goodbye, Du Feili.”
Only then did Du Feili turn back. “Does that mean I won’t be coming here again?”
“No need,” Bai Chen replied with a squinting smile. “I no longer have to live beneath your watchful eyes. My own world is more than enough to let me thrive. Why chase scraps from the outside when I can flourish right here in my own?”
Seeing that Du Feili hadn’t budged, Bai Chen helpfully grabbed him by the scruff of the neck—just like the others—and tossed him into the cave.
Once Du Feili was dealt with, Bai Chen tilted his head slightly and turned his gaze to the remaining Chu Xuzhou.
Chu Xuzhou instinctively took a step back.
“It’s fine,” Bai Chen said, glancing at the foot Chu Xuzhou had retreated with. “You’ve already paid your rent and endured my service. I permit you, an outsider from the Corpse Clan, to stay on. I didn’t bring you here just to throw you out.”
“…”
Chu Xuzhou fell silent for a moment before asking, “How long? Can it be for life?”
Bai Chen paused, taken aback. The question felt complicated at first, so he pondered it at length. But then he realized there was no need for overthinking—he wanted to wring a lifetime of devotion from Chu Xuzhou, after all.
With a smile, he said, “Of course. I grant you permanent residency.”
【In the end, we made it out. The novel Mad Flower Blood Moon closed before our very eyes.】
【The moment I got home, I pulled out the physical copy of Mad Flower Blood Moon that I’d kept. I’d pored over it night after night countless times before. But this time, no matter how I tried, I couldn’t open it. I even called in a transmigrator with strength-based powers to rip it apart by force. Inside? Nothing but blank pages.】
【Mad Flower Blood Moon faded like a dream upon waking—erased entirely from our world.】
【Our world was saved. No casualties this time. It was almost effortless.】
【The Book Transmigration Bureau convened meeting after meeting, debating whether to lift the novel classification bans. They never reached a conclusion.】
【News reports: Zombies sighted at Book Transmigration Bureau headquarters.】
【Book Transmigration Systems have gone offline.】
【Transmigrators are now relics of history. Long into the future—perhaps forever—they’ll be dismissed as mere fiction from novels.】
“The End”
