Famine 165: Before Dawn

Boom!!

The Supreme God answered with thunder.

Si Zhiyan’s face was ashen as paper. He lowered his head and coughed twice, his vision already blurring, yet he still managed a laugh: “Pardon me… I forgot, you can’t see anymore.”

The Supreme God’s attack was about to begin; even the oppressive atmosphere alone was already inflicting damage on his body.

Boom!!

A myriad of orbs of light unleashed their lightning upon the earth.

The ground shook, the air twisted, bolts of lightning poured down from the nine heavens like rain, striking the farm and blowing the land apart.

None struck Si Zhiyan directly, but they came perilously close. The deafening roar exploded in his ears, sending a ringing buzz through his head, turning everything before him utterly black. His eardrums hurt for only a moment, then all sense of sound faded away.

His chest felt oppressed. Sinking back into his chair, Si Zhiyan’s fingers began to tremble, the damp ends of his hair stuck to his neck, cold sweat prickling painfully at his skin.

Before him, the world had become an apocalypse of lightning and shattering light, bolts falling thick and fast, but to his ears there was only empty, boundless silence.

He felt as though he were sinking, melting into the cushion of the chair, merging into the earth itself, awareness ebbing away, even pain becoming less defined.

All decisions were already made, the course unalterable—he had only to see it through.

Yet as breathing grew difficult, Si Zhiyan instinctively curled into himself, clutching the fabric at his chest with all his strength. Without realizing it, he heard the ragged, bellows-like wheeze of his own breath, trembling and fitful, like the last guttering flame of a candle in the wind.

It took him two seconds to realize that sound was coming from himself.

After all, Si Zhiyan, the farm owner, was just an ordinary young man—thin, pale, more frail than any other player.
No one believed it… sometimes, even Si Zhiyan himself forgot this simple truth.

Boom!

Every lift of each rib sent a jolt of pain; Si Zhiyan curled in on himself, clutching his chest, beads of sweat rolling from his brow to tremble on his knees.

In that moment of lightning splitting the sky, he’d imagined he would think on humanity’s future, on his imaginary township, on the countless lives in Tenman Paradise, on those who came before and those yet to come, on the grand arc of history—

But in that instant, Si Zhiyan’s mind was utterly blank, returning only to that snowy night as the air cooled.

He had finished the day’s chores, and for the first time grown an “Yin-Yang Hotpot”—overjoyed by the result. Eager, he’d captured a baby fire phoenix for a heat source, and boiled a bubbling hotpot with two broths.

It was cold outside, but warm within; the chick pecked at its millet as he dipped a piece of crisp tripe in the spicy broth, coated it with sauce and ate bite after bite with incomparable satisfaction. Fish balls rolled in the tomato base, and Bian Xu’s vine curled about his shoulder, the two pressed close.

He had loved so many things.

Afternoons sipping coffee at the lakeside restaurant, sunlight shimmering on water.
The dappled shadows of the forest hot spring restaurant, the sweet and cooling marinated seafood after a soak.
The splashing foam and wind in his ears as he went down the water slide.
On the deep-grassed abyss, Bian Xu smiling as he held up a fluffy puppy, blond youth beaming so brightly it seemed even gloom itself would retreat from him.
……

Boom!

How many waves of lightning had struck now?… This time it seemed even closer—but where?

He no longer knew. Si Zhiyan’s vision was a blur of blood red, nothing left to see. His cranial pressure had soared, eyes feeling as though they must burst, as though every pore in his body were weeping blood.

Time was short.

At the end of life, one uncontrollable thought rose painfully out of his chest.

…He didn’t want to die.

He didn’t want to die. Truly, he didn’t want to die at all. This was the farm he had built with his own hands, and he still wanted to see more of it. No one loved this place more than Si Zhiyan. He loved the adzuki bean pudding, the butterfly pea flowers, the bubbling springs, the creamy mushroom soup, and the bacon-egg toast…

Bian Xu had once told Si Zhiyan: No matter life or death, victory or defeat, I’ll always remain beside you.

Si Zhiyan thought hazily: …I want to be with you too.
Sorry. I didn’t mean to push you away.

…Don’t be sad.

Directly overhead, a bright orb of light was forming.

His luck had finally run out.

It wasn’t entirely fair; Si Zhiyan sat at its edge—if he moved a step forward he might still avoid it. But he no longer had the strength to stand, or take that single step.

Si Zhiyan closed his eyes, lashes drooping with exhaustion. He had never regretted, and even now did not. As his fingers trembled, he only shook, lifted his head, and gave the Supreme God a twisted, reckless grin.

Take me then, you prison warden.

A deafening crack—the lightning descended!

Suddenly, a powerful force surged from behind Si Zhiyan. Something soft, like a tide, washed over him, pulling him backward, enfolding him completely!

Crack!

His mind was blank, only a single shrill question —

Who is here? Who dares defy orders?

Who dares to appear now?! Don’t they want to live?!

Si Zhiyan furiously wiped his eyes, blinking hard, forcing the blood-hazed world into focus, the blots of red receding enough for him to see—

It was an expanse of blood-red, fleshy masses, as far as the eye could see.

Ba-dump. Ba-dump.

It beat. It roiled, welling up from some deep place, filling the farm. Sprouting from it were countless malformed monsters—dark and twisted, writhing out in surging waves.

The Supreme God’s lightning, full of curses and hatred, rained down upon those things, but caused not a ripple, only blasted the grassland at their feet into splinters.

Nothing in the farm was strong enough to withstand the divine thunder.

But, it didn’t feel like a defense—it was more like…

—They were of the same kind, and so would not harm one another.
Yet they could not shield him, the thunder simply passed through.

Si Zhiyan’s pupils constricted.

Ba-dump. Ba-dump.

His eardrums had ruptured and bled. He could not hear the thunder, but the pulsing beat of that huge mass sounded inside his head.

That was the sound of the farm’s core.

Ba-dump. Ba-dump. Ba-dump. Ba-dump.

Exactly as in the basement—that colossal, wild, black mass of flesh pulsing and spreading, writhing in chaos. It seemed to explode, utterly out of control, growing deformed monsters that wrapped Si Zhiyan tightly, cocooning him.

It had come so close—so close it nearly didn’t make it.

This hideous, trembling, monstrous hunk of flesh was gripped by a terror that felt as if the world itself would collapse.

“…” Si Zhiyan tried to speak, coughed up a mouthful of blood, throat so raw the voice barely sounded human. “You…”

To protect the farm, Si Zhiyan had sealed off the basement in advance.
So it had not come from the basement.

Then, where… Si Zhiyan frowned—these monsters he’d never seen before… Were there really things in the farm he didn’t know about?

Ah.
He understood at last.

—They came from the Abyss.

At the same time, maybe detecting that Si Zhiyan had regained some consciousness, a familiar system prompt finally sounded in his mind:

[Ding! (Ashen Flower – Abyss) fully digested!]
[Current Farm Satiety: 81%!]

[Some terrain text has been updated.]

——

[Lightless Corner – Abyss]
At the lowest level of the abyss, part of the “Roots of Folklore Seeds” grow.
In the “Lightless Abyss,” countless twisted “Root Shards” may drop, all sharing characteristics with the farm’s core.
The number of “Root Shards” is uncountable; their shapes vary, their limbs are distorted, and a rotten, bloody odor is normal.
“Root Shards” are extremely aggressive, and will attack any living thing in their sight indiscriminately.

Please do your best to avoid being discovered by [Bian Xu].

——

These things… these grotesque shadows were monsters from the Abyssal Tower.

What did it mean for them to be root shards? Why did the warning say to avoid being discovered by Bian Xu?

Those black shadows were strange and vicious, but clearly not strong enough to resist the Supreme God.
They were weeping, wailing, clutching Si Zhiyan with malformed limbs as they stumbled through the farm, fleeing in utter disgrace.

Each of them was shrouded in hatred, their cries heart-wrenching, uproarious—nightmarish as a parade of a hundred ghosts, so heavy with malice it stole the breath from your chest.

Each shadow’s form was unstable, their limbs broken and crawling, reshaping themselves in the dark mud, sometimes briefly settling into recognizable forms.

A pair of pitch-black wings.
A witch’s hat atop a rotting, three-eyed rabbit exposing its skull.
A man in a suit, sobbing with misery, tightly bound and electrocuted.
A conjoined deformity: the left half a living man screaming, the right a vengeful ghost baby weeping.
Half a broken life-token, still a little fluffy…
……

All of them were fragments of the farm’s core.

…As he watched, Si Zhiyan’s lips began to tremble.

“What is this?”
He rasped during a gap in hiding. It wasn’t the time to ask, but a terrible thought forced him to speak,
“I know you can hear me… Bian Xu, answer me—what is this? What power are you using to save me?”

【……】The shadow only lowered its head and wept.

Everyone… The farm was a dream-like, wonderful place. It could eat up folk legends and cursed objects and grow marvelous things.

On his first visit to the farm shop, he’d thought the payment system was amusing.
Feed the farm fragments of tear-soaked curses (points), and it would become satiated and reward the owner with magical facilities and powers.

It would eat the lonely, bittersweet horn of the rabbit and grow a massive tub of delicious ice cream.
Devour the lucky rabbit’s foot made from the corpse of a dead witch and produce beef jerky blessed by witches, all free of curse.
Eat an “Yin-Yang Hotpot” born of parted lovers’ pain and regret, and yield a delicious bubbling two-broth hotpot—carefully attentive to everyone’s tastes…

Si Zhiyan had often wondered how the farm accomplished this.

The place was always full of mysteries, but never gave him answers. Even Bian Xu’s vine would curl up and feign sleep at such questions.

Of course it’s a magical playground, a convenient system, a place where legends are turned into fine things!

…Or is it?
Why ponder unnecessary details?

Can those curses really disappear into thin air? Where does all the hate and pain go, anyway…?

In the thunder and rain, a chill crept up Si Zhiyan’s spine to the crown of his head, making his scalp numb, brain near to exploding.

He remembered: that day in the abyss, Bian Xu became a hunk of flesh and swallowed those dark “friends.”

The chunk of flesh thrashed in agony, wrapping up the frenzied miner dogs, struggling this way and that, digesting for a while—before “pop!” a bunch of fluffy puppies came bursting out.

Clean, happy, warm and fuzzy, wagging their tails, burying Si Zhiyan in their fuzz,

Bian Xu, face flushed, smiled and held up one of the puppies, two pairs of eyes bright as stars, asking Si Zhiyan to give it a name.

—But there had still been lingering blood and black flesh on his face.

“…It’s you.”

Si Zhiyan grabbed the black shadow’s arm behind him, voice hoarse and cracked, trembling deeply, barely human.

“You… You’re the farm’s core…”

“The farm can turn legends and curses into food and tools because you strip away all that hatred and pain…”
“The more the farm grows, the more time you need to digest it, because it’s become too much for you…”
“All along, the reason you couldn’t come out to see me was because you had to stay in the basement, all alone…bearing, digesting all this pain and resentment… is that it?”

Those last words came out as a whisper, nearly drowned in the endless thunder.

【……】

Boom!

The thunder drowned out all sound, and the silent weeping.

——

[Lightless Corner – Abyss]

In some lightless, forgotten corner, someone heard your call. You wanted something terrible, something dangerous.
But there should be no enemies or pollution here.

Yet he wanted to give you everything he had.

He racked his brains, tried everything to bring something filthy and dangerous into this pure land. But all in vain.
……
Until, at last, he found himself.

——

Si Zhiyan did not die. The Supreme God’s attack never let up.
How long would the underground defense of the Imaginary Town survive? He did not know. The refuges below housed more than two hundred thousand, Nie Du, Yan Cheng, Lin Qiushui, Li Cuie, Liang Qingshuang… all those who had followed him, all who strove to live well.

If the defenses broke, all would die together. The town would become hell and a sea of death.

Half Si Zhiyan’s mind was tallying time and force, the other half commanding himself not to let go of Bian Xu’s arm—no matter what, do not let go, as though he would split apart if he did.

【Please…*&%(…】

The farm’s core—or Bian Xu—that familiar, chaotic, cluttered system message echoed in Si Zhiyan’s mind.

【Please…&Please…H&…survive.】

【You are all I have, sir.】