Chapter 189: The Far Side of the Moon
There was something strange about the Narrator’s tone—enough to give Xu Zhi a faint sense of unease. She couldn’t help asking, “Are you really okay?”
The Narrator fell silent for a moment. It didn’t want to lie to her—and couldn’t even if it tried—so it finally replied:
[In the past, the extraordinary energy in the air could be converted into my power supply. But now that the air no longer contains any such energy, I can’t recharge anymore.]
“…Then what should we do? Can you use the cores in the warehouse as power?”
For once, there was genuine worry in Xu Zhi’s voice.
[It’s fine. If I run out of power, the worst that happens is I shut down. Let me tell you what you need to know first—so that when I do, you’ll still know what to do.]
“Really?” Xu Zhi still didn’t sound convinced.
[Really. Have I ever lied to you?]
That was true— the Narrator had never lied to her.
“Alright then.” Xu Zhi nodded, then asked, “If that sun in the sky really crashes down, I’m probably dead, right?”
It was the sun, after all!
[Don’t worry. The Federation never had a real sun or moon. That isn’t truly a sun—it’s a massive mass of energy and flesh fused together.]
Ordinarily, saying such a thing would have brought the Narrator backlash. But now that nature itself was in upheaval—and even the “sun” was falling from the sky—the old, false rules had long since broken. Speaking the truth now no longer carried any punishment.
When a secret is revealed, it ceases to be a secret.
“No real sun or moon… then what have we been seeing all this time?”
[A false sun—an illusion formed by the world’s rules.]
[As for the moon… strictly speaking, you have seen it. You’ve just always lived on its far side—in this dim world, where even moonlight cannot reach.]
The Federation existed on the dark side of the moon—a world unseen by sunlight, untouched by moonlight.
The Narrator seemed to have discarded all restraint; it spoke of anything now.
When Xu Zhi saw another crack form across the console’s already shattered screen, she blurted, “Stop talking! You’ll break completely!”
[It’s fine. I won’t die.]
[You’ve never seen the true sun—you don’t know what it really looks like. When you get out, remember to show the sun proper reverence.]
As the Narrator spoke, the black sun drew closer and closer to the ground. Xu Zhi only had to lift her head slightly to see the enormous mass plummeting toward the Federation. It was even larger than Its colossal body; even the original form of the Lesser Abomination would look tiny beside it.
When that thing hit, the Federation would probably shatter into fragments.
“So this is how you ‘find the Door’? You have to smash the Federation apart first?”
As the black sun fell, the sense of pressure above grew overwhelming. Anyone who saw it would despair—some ran futilely, hoping to escape the impact zone; others crouched and covered their heads in denial. But everyone knew it was useless.
The fall would annihilate everything.
[Not to shatter the Federation—but to use that immense energy to strike every corner of it, to find the weakest point, and break open a crack leading to the outside. That crack… is the Door.]
[Just like that fragment once tore through the Midnight realm, It now wants to tear open this world—to escape it, the same way It escaped Midnight.]
So that massive energy construct was meant to ram open a path out of the Federation.
“…That’s pretty crude.”
Wasn’t this kind of thing supposed to involve solving riddles, deciphering codes, or using some elegant method?
[There is no other way. Every path has been sealed.]
The moment the Narrator said that, Xu Zhi thought of the broken cliff she had seen back in the “forest.”
“The severed transcendental path—was that also to seal every exit?” she asked.
[Yes.]
“Why? To stop anyone from leaving the Federation?”
[Yes—but that’s only a precaution. More importantly…]
To stop It from leaving.
After all, this place seemed to have been built as Its prison.
Yes.
When the Narrator had first said It was trying to break free from confinement, Xu Zhi had already guessed as much.
Why were there no other supreme transcendent beings here? Because there was only It—no others of different attributes, no equals.
The answer couldn’t have been simpler.
It had come from the outside world. And as the Narrator had once said, It had fallen. A fallen one wouldn’t arrive here on its own—it had been sent here. And once It revived, its first instinct was to escape at all costs. So what else could this place be, but a prison built to contain It?
The Federation had no history—because it was never meant to. It existed solely to confine It. The “humans” of the Federation had been born and raised within this vast prison called the Federation.
As the Narrator had said: It wasn’t a challenger. It was the defeated one—imprisoned here.
Now, the defeated wanted to return—and wouldn’t hesitate to sacrifice the lives of ants to do it.
Even though Zhong Lingfan and the others still lived, It had barely bothered with them, save for occasionally targeting Xu Zhi. To It, they were already dead men walking—not even worth the pride of cruelty.
But what Xu Zhi couldn’t understand was: why bother creating a Federation at all to imprison It? If it were just a sealed cell without life or extraordinary energy, It wouldn’t have had the power to attempt an escape in the first place.
“Was it a necessary condition?”
[Yes.]
The Narrator seemed to know exactly what she was thinking.
[If there were no extraordinary beings or energy at all—no world capable of holding It—then the rules themselves would collapse, and It would simply die out.]
[After that, a new version of It would be born outside.]
So that was it.
To confine It permanently, the Federation itself was necessary.
[Now that the Federation is on the verge of destruction, the already-fragile, fabricated rules will vanish with it. Everything here will become weaker than ever. That’s both the best—and the only—chance.]
[If It doesn’t escape now, It will truly die.]
Rules.
It seemed that, at Its level, rules themselves were the most vital thing.
[But escaping isn’t that simple. Aside from the severed paths and sealed exits, there’s also the ever-watchful…]
[…Overseer.]
The moment the Narrator uttered those three words, lightning tore across the sky.
A bolt of silver light fell straight toward Xu Zhi’s position. Fortunately, she reacted quickly—leaping back just in time to avoid being struck.
“Would you stop talking already?” Xu Zhi snapped, the corner of her eye twitching. The air around that lightning reeked of destruction—she was sure that if even a spark had touched her, she would have been obliterated completely, not even a trace of her soul left.
[Don’t worry. It’s a special kind of existence. As long as you don’t speak Its name, don’t draw Its attention, and don’t try to leave, you’ll be fine.]
Then why are you saying it?!
[Now that It senses someone here knows of Its existence, the thunder will fall—to seek out the one who knows.]
Ah.
Xu Zhi understood now.
The Narrator was playing dirty. Midnight masked Its presence—so the Narrator had deliberately provoked the Overseer’s attention. The black sun was already halfway through its descent; It couldn’t stop even if It wanted to.
In simple terms— the Narrator wanted to make It and the Overseer fight each other.
