Famine 41: The Eye

It was still there, waiting in the depths!

The group exchanged silent glances. The moment of revelation approached, surging pressure and excitement flooding their hearts. Everyone tensed, gripping their weapons, setting up a strict formation, advancing step by careful step.

The stairway of the Path of Glory descended, leading straight toward the heart of the Sacred Tomb—nothing to hinder their way. For centuries, generations of High Priests had walked this hallowed path, filled with hope, driving the masses toward a new future. And now, the explorers of posterity pressed on, step by step over the relics of civilization, to unveil the ultimate answer at the end of this tumultuous journey.

What was it that destroyed this world?

Who was it that brought such calamity to this civilization?

The Xubei team pressed forward, step by step, until the way suddenly opened before them.

The end of the Path of Glory revealed an expansive ritual platform, stretching to the horizon, utterly empty.

High above it, the river of stars cascaded like a waterfall, flowing slowly as points of starlight sprinkled the dust of the ruins, turning in eternal cycles. The brilliance of the stars drenched the muddy darkness.

And amidst that galaxy… something, a vast shadow, was drawing ever closer. Its form was so immense, so overwhelming, it spanned the whole horizon.

In that moment, everyone’s heart pounded like a drum as though facing a mortal enemy; their formation braced, they watched as the colossal shadow slowly came into view.

Thump.

Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump.

An eyeball, stretched across the sky and earth, twisted all sense of scale. Half of it surfaced over the horizon, dominating the night sky.

Buzz.

It opened its eye and stared at the people gathered before it.
Its eyelid curved minutely, like a silent greeting, or perhaps a mocking smile.

—[The Eye of the Archgod].

“——”

It felt as though electricity had shot down their spines. In that instant, Sizhiyan before the livestream—and the entire Xubei team—lost the ability to speak.

It was the trembling that lay buried deep in their genes, the primordial fear of their simian ancestors confronted with a monstrous colossus.

At the heart of the tower’s depths, the very core of all things—the origin of civilization’s destruction… stood right before their eyes, never truly far away.

Sizhiyan’s mind buzzed, and then, all at once, everything became clear.

[The very source upon which this civilization survived and thrived—[Imagination]—had become the weapon of their destruction.]

“What is the core driving force of human civilization’s development?”
In the revolutionary settlement, Zhong Manwen sat high in her armchair, the grooves of age etched deep across her face.

The corners of her lips parted, her voice hoarse and profound—unique among survivors—echoed through the Ship of Bones.

“Hunger.”

“It was out of hunger that humans gathered seeds, thus sowing the embryo of agricultural civilization; out of hunger that they hunted animals and fashioned the first spear in the history of civilization. We must overcome a harsh environment—we are never sated—so we invented the steam engine, let crops and ore ride steel wheels across rivers and mountains, and the gears of industry rolled ever onward…”

“Those in the rich equatorial belt, plentiful at every meal, preferred to laze under fruit trees and never advanced past the tribal stage. Yet it was those in the hunger-bitten subtropics and temperate zones, desperate to escape want, who strove to think, to try, to become stronger… step by step building the civilization we know today.”

“And even now, it is because of hunger that we’ve come together here to fight for the Ship of Bones.”

“Hunger is the driving force propelling mankind forward.”

[Something had granted them a power even greater. The very force that underpinned their world’s survival was pushed to its utmost limit—becoming immense, far surpassing all prior peaks of civilization.]

In memory, Gu Haoping stood foremost among the qualified players, lifting his head with sinister pride: “The Archgod’s points can strengthen us. We, the qualified, are utterly unlike those line-shrimp. There are no cowards here. Lin Qiushui, in the Ship of Bones, there is no place for the disabled. What do you want us to do?”

[Imagination, amplified to an extreme, became bone-deep obsession, driving people mad and spawning endless atrocities.]

“So hungry…”

Who knows how long ago—Niedu knelt among the field of starved corpses, clutching Gu Haoping tightly, burying his face against the boy’s bony neck, shoulders trembling.

“We’re just so hungry. Don’t worry—how could I ever blame you? I, I can’t blame them either… We’re just… just… so hungry…”

“If only I had the strength to save them… If I had power, if I could earn enough food for everyone… if only I had that ability…”

Gu Haoping, mouth stained with blood, knelt amid the corpses, gazing blankly at the sky.

Reflected in the boy’s dim pupils, the Eye of the Archgod shifted slightly, casting a quick glance in their direction.

Then, a burst of radiant golden light swept across the sky.
Grace descended as a miracle.

[In the end, everything was twisted.
The very source upon which this civilization survived and thrived had become the weapon of their destruction.]

The vast eye hung above the heavens, slightly narrowed, surveying all beings below.

—Players, welcome to the Famine Game.

…………
……

Isn’t it just the same? Games, evolution, those who believed themselves chosen by the gods.

“…” Shi Yan looked up, her pupils trembling: “…Is this—this is, the Archgod—”

“No.”

The black robes rippled and swayed, retreating step by step.

“Something must have gone wrong; the Archgod would never do this, never…”

Was it because they stood too close to the Eye of the Archgod?
On Niedu, the bone spikes shone with a faint golden light, layer upon layer of brilliance flowing over him, the black cloak no longer able to conceal it.

Gripping his scythe desperately, affected by some unknown force, his voice teetered on the edge of madness, almost breaking. Cold vapor blossomed into frost at his lips.

“How could the Archgod ever annihilate an entire civilization? …The Archgod is the one who bestows blessings upon us in this game. Everything we’ve gained comes from the Archgod… we…”

“Commander Nie, Commander Nie? Are you alright?” Zhong Yanqing called out in alarm.

Niedu heard nothing. He merely hung his head, muttering like one possessed: “No… The Archgod is our savior. We are His chosen…”

“Commander Nie?” Zhong Yanqing took a step forward, only for Shi Yan to grab her arm: “Don’t go!”
Shi Yan’s gray eyes glowed with gravity. “…He can’t hear you anymore.”

Under the Eye of the Archgod, Niedu’s back bent lower and lower…

Enough. Sizhiyan had made a decision.

From the holy grail at Shi Yan’s waist, a surge of mist flowed out, instantly engulfing Niedu whole!

Niedu finally came to his senses, lifting his head in a daze: “You too… have come to bestow miracles?”

Gradually, a vague figure coalesced into solidity.
It was Sizhiyan’s spectral avatar.

Surrounded by rolling clouds, the indistinct deity spoke slowly.

Rather than answer Niedu’s question, he simply said:
“I have some things to notify you of.”

——

What came next was nearly too much for the mind to process.

The Ship of Bones’ audit mechanisms.
The mass expulsion of players.
Gu Haoping’s betrayal of all.
The farm sheltering labor players.
Sand Commander’s army igniting a civil war.
…

Everyone stared, stunned—none so much as Niedu, who could barely process it.

So unfamiliar. So unfamiliar, even the voice.

That ethereal voice seemed to slip by his empty ears. Before the meaning fully reached him, something perilously fragile propped up his soul.

“Master… Contract Holder…” Niedu slowly lifted his head, forcing a stiff smile, “You must be joking, aren’t you?”
Flecks of gold rippled over him, divine radiance shining faintly from the Archgod’s blessing, as if teetering on the verge of a breakdown.

He whispered again and again, slowly but with conviction: “…It’s impossible.”

In the face of catastrophic upheaval, people sometimes enter a kind of mental lockdown,
Unable to comprehend what they see or what sounds reach their ears. It is not a matter of will, but of their subconscious striving to protect them.

Shi Yan touched the warm medicine packet at her side, unable to hold back: “Commander Nie, maybe just—let’s look again…”

Niedu cut her off with a repetition, his voice hoarse: “It’s impossible.”
“I know Haoping. He’s been my brother since the beginning.”

Back at the farm, Sizhiyan closed his eyes with a soft sigh.
But he said nothing. Words were useless here. Niedu would never listen now.

The spectral avatar simply gazed quietly at Niedu, neither disagreeing nor confirming.

Then, as if nothing had happened, he waved his hand lightly, and in the mist there appeared a neatly stacked pile of clothing.

“This is the final batch of winter garments and bedding, to be delivered now.”
“Full payment in points was made previously—take what you need.”

…To change the subject so abruptly?!
But Niedu… Shi Yan, uncertain, reached out a hand.

Yet Niedu seemed to be pardoned by heaven; he collapsed limply onto the dust-covered earth.
Niedu screwed his eyes shut tight. The fog masked his vision, and the buzzing at his ears fell quiet. For those fleeting moments, shielded from the Eye of the Archgod, blocked from falsehood, he experienced the rarest sense of relief. Life continued as always; so long as he kept moving forward, everything would proceed as it always had, step by step.

Gratefully, Niedu reached out and took the winter clothes floating in the mist.

The sensation of soft fabric in his palm was comfortingly familiar. Deep in the Sacred Tomb’s chill, an extra layer was sorely needed. Niedu shook out the padded coat and draped it inside his cloak.

——

It happened in a single second.

By the time the venomous cold seeped into his bones, it was already far too late.

Snap!

The winter coat tightened suddenly, as if it were a rope, instantly constricting Niedu, squeezing tight!

“Kah?!” Niedu’s body arched, and a mouthful of blood sprayed from his lips!
The joy and gratitude in his eyes hadn’t even dispersed yet.

Countless wailing specters shrieked in his ears—new ghosts, wronged; old ones, howling—their resentments like so many sharpened lances, all at once piercing through Niedu’s skull!

The cursed garment tightened further and further, until it was shrunken nearly to a child’s size. Niedu could not draw breath, his body twisted in agony, clawing hopelessly at his own throat, bloodshot eyes bulging grotesquely.

The multitude of specters moaned in despair, creeping from the garment into Niedu’s body, savaging his flesh—and the bone insects that plagued him as well.

Crack.
Something inside him loosened, accompanied by the dissolution of several bone insects, and a narrow fissure rent through the golden radiance of the Archgod’s blessing in Niedu’s eyes.

It was tiny. But that was enough.

In only a few seconds, Niedu experienced the full torment of being consumed by curses.

The icy chill, the suffocation, the pain—the collapse of all emotion beneath high pressure.

But in that moment, Niedu’s mind went utterly blank.
All the pain combined could not match the clarity brought by a single thought—

—This was the curse of [The Wailing of the Bitter Bones].

No one knew this curse better than Niedu; it was Gu Haoping’s curse, from that little brother who had shadowed him for seven long years.
The way he looked at him with unfailing trust, the way he chatted laughing, full of spirit—covered in blood, kneeling on a mountain of corpses, haunted by resentful ghosts, gaze hollowed.

Gu Haoping suffered the haunting of spirits for his sake, and with the [Wailing of the Bitter Bones] they brought, hacked through brambles and fought endless battles at his side.

This was Gu Haoping’s curse. Niedu could not be mistaken.

In the instant the bone insect loosened, the Ship of Bones trembled and swayed. Every last self-deception shattered, and through that narrow crack, a flood of overwhelming emotion swept in—

“What do you mean ‘just hold on’? Aren’t you worried about me? If you’re gone, I…”

“Didn’t you want to save people? Brother Nie, are you coming to save me or not—I’m dying!”

So many have died on the Ship of Bones. They were already at the edge of the abyss.

What had he done? What had he missed? That thought exploded in Niedu’s mind. Every breath now seared his insides.

What burden had he placed on that child? On the players who had trusted and followed him?

“I’m sorry…” Each syllable from Niedu’s lips dripped with pain, as if his very bones bled.

He had made it this far through hell and high water, risking his life for the survival of the Ship of Bones… for what? And could he save anyone, in the end?

“I’m sorry… I’m sorry, I’m sorry…”

Words failed him.

Niedu hunched over, slowly raised his head, the fog now thinning a little.
On the horizon, the Archgod’s colossal eye curved in a cold smile, witnessing this drama.

Finally, through a mist of blood, Niedu, trembling, whispered the question every chosen one had once dared think:

“You… you never once… stood by our side, did you?”

The Archgod would not answer.

The time was up. After lingering awhile on the bone insects, the ghosts gradually lost their strength—one tiny crack was the limit; they’d never had the power to truly shatter the miracle of agony.

In their place, a cloud of ashes burst from the winter garment, scattering in the air like cattail fluff.
Sizhiyan, long on guard, solidified his spectral avatar around Niedu, gathering all the bone ash within a cloud of vapor!

The previous night, Sizhiyan had seen Tang Qinghuai handling that stalk of cattail with childish delight and suddenly realized something was wrong.
Not with the object itself, but with the indifference to human nature.

The firestarter cattail was an E-grade cursed object, not at all rare—worth only 100 points at the farm. But it could be fluffed up into a giant ball of tinder, and for labor players lacking winter clothes, it could be sold for at least 500 points.
A laborer on the verge of starvation, however desperate, would never toss aside 400 points worth of value—for Gu Haoping, 400 points barely bought a consumable, not worth a thought, but for those at the bottom it was a tidy sum.

Gu Haoping had been too arrogant, never bothering with the farm’s price lists, too busy playing politics and dooming countless people, unaware how frugally the laborers lived or how meager the prices they faced.

Once he recognized the problem, Sizhiyan inspected the object and soon found traces of a curse.

So, when Lǐ Cuǐ’s handoff came, Sizhiyan issued an urgent order—
Right there, without opening the bundle, she was to sew that cattail into the lining of the winter clothing.

When words could not shake one lost in delusion, a bitter medicine was required.

……

Niedu’s heartbroken question went unanswered.

The Archgod’s gigantic eye watched with interest, making no move at all.

As though he were watching ants.

Niedu slowly closed his eyes.
Six years had passed since murky tears last slid down his melted face, splashing to the ground below.

Tap!

A voice sounded calmly:
“Does it hurt?”

Niedu jolted, eyes snapping open.

The spectral deity hovered amid the vapor, asking once more in quiet voice:
“Does it hurt?”