[System! What is going on?!]
After putting some distance between himself and the giant stone monsters, Xie Shi asked in his mind with a breakdown.
The system remained silent for a moment before replying: [I do not know.]
[You do not know?!] Xie Shi broke down even further: [There was no such thing in the original text at all! Isn’t this considered abnormal data?!]
According to the setup of the original text, giant stone monsters only existed in the Wilderness, keeping watch over the array eye at all hours to capture escaping prisoners.
Although they had eyes, they were actually blind and lacked a sense of touch, hunting down escaping prisoners solely based on the nasal breath of living beings.
However, almost no one knew about these weaknesses of theirs.
The Heavenly Prison was bound by layer upon layer of restrictions, and the Wilderness was fraught with peril.
Ever since the Heavenly Prison was built in the Wilderness and separated from the outside world by a sealing grand array, this place had become a sealed cage.
People on the outside knew nothing of matters within the Wilderness, and prisoners naturally knew nothing of matters on the outside.
The moment they arrived, they were locked inside the Heavenly Prison, and they would never have the opportunity to scout out the Wilderness.
Even if they managed to escape by a fluke, they would likely be killed by the ubiquitous bone spirits before they could even discover the giant stone monsters’ weaknesses.
Song Yan was the sole exception.
Hiding and dodging in the Wilderness, he spent a full year fleeing, carrying fresh wounds on his body every single day, coming close to death on several occasions.
The scorching sun burned into his eyes and incinerated his body, awaiting the moment to snuff out his life at any time.
Yet he still struggled and survived.
And he finally discovered the truth: the giant stone monsters could not see people and lacked a sense of touch, relying solely on nasal breath to capture escaping prisoners.
In the original text, Song Yan thought with a touch of irony that heaven still favored him after all.
Back when he was hiding and surviving within the immortal sects in his youth, Song You had hidden him many times in the small pond behind the back mountain.
The world beneath the water was cold, chillingly cold. The stones were slick, the water weeds slimy, brushing against the soles of his feet and calves with the undulating water.
Like water ghosts struggling to drag him down into hell.
Song Yan did not want to enter hell, so he raised his head high, gazing at the surface of the water.
In broad daylight, the sunlight plunged into the rippling surface of the water, shattering into pieces of pale gold.
Song Yan looked at these sparkling fragments, from pale gold to scorching heat, from orange-red to icy cold.
Until everything grew quiet and pitch-black.
Not a shred of light could be seen on the water’s surface, and the depths of the water ceased to feel like an underwater world, instead turning into a suffocating, pitch-black, boundless prison.
Only then could Song Yan crawl out of this small pond.
He could stay underwater for a full eight hours.
He was most adept at holding his breath.
Thus, Song Yan approached the array eye, first luring the giant stone monster out of it before holding his breath, leaping onto its body, and using its strength to exit the array eye.
Yet from beginning to end, only one giant stone monster had ever appeared in the original text.
Where on earth had all those giant stone monsters just now come from?!
[If it is a product not mentioned in the original text but compliant with its logic, it will not trigger an abnormal data flag,] the system said.
Xie Shi sneered: [Do you think this complies with the logic of the original text? Song Yan is the protagonist shou, and such a dangerous place is practically the perfect plot setup to increase the drama of his escape from the Wilderness! Furthermore, in the original text, Song Yan had been fleeing in the Wilderness for a year, and he had practically explored the Wilderness inside out. Could he have never come to this place? Could the author have failed to write about it?]
The system fell silent.
[What is going on with this world?] Xie Shi asked the doubt in his heart: [Is this world more complicated than just a collapsed plotline?]
Asking this, Xie Shi also felt a bit uncertain in his heart; after all, he had previously asked about the Glass Heart without receiving an answer.
He was merely a nameless pawn of the Matchmaker Bureau, a hundred thousand miles away from the management tier.
If it involved some deep secret, it was only natural not to tell him.
Yet the half-concealing attitude of the Matchmaker Bureau still made Xie Shi feel displeased.
He did not want to be used as someone’s unaware knife.
Especially since he had no idea whether this half-concealing attitude was due to the Matchmaker Bureau’s inherent arrogance or if it was intentional on their part.
After waiting for a long time, the system finally spoke: [This world has derailed.]
Deviations in the plotlines of the protagonist gong and shou were a common phenomenon; otherwise, employees like them would not exist.
Merely Song Yan running away early should not have been enough to make the system utter words about this small world derailing.
Although he harbored probing intentions, Xie Shi had not expected to receive such an answer.
His brows locked in a deep frown: [What do you mean?]
[Just as you see,] the system stated: [This small world has fallen into chaos.]
[Chaos?]
[This small world has spawned many settings absent from the original text, and it is undergoing self-isolation, which is why these settings cannot be detected as abnormal data.]
[Did Song Yan’s early escape happen because the settings changed too?] Xie Shi asked with a frown.
[Yes.]
[Is this world alive?]
[No,] the system rebutted: [On the contrary, it is marching toward destruction.]
[Why?] Xie Shi asked again.
[When a small world’s settings and plot completely derail and collapse, the power sustaining its existence vanishes as well. Lacking a source of existence, it will naturally perish. And once it perishes, it is bound to affect the Matchmaker Bureau and other small worlds. Therefore, we hope to restore this world by correcting the plotline, regaining control over it, and guiding it back into the safe zone,] the system explained.
[Can’t you just reboot it?] Xie Shi could not help asking.
[Rebooting cannot overwrite altered settings. And once the small world completely slips out of control, we will no longer be able to reboot it.]
Clearly, this small world was already undergoing self-isolation, meaning the day it completely slipped out of control was not far away.
Therefore, the Matchmaker Bureau had to drag the small world back onto the right track before it completed its self-isolation.
[If the small world is destroyed, then…]
Knowing what Xie Shi was about to ask, the system cut him off in advance, its mechanical voice ice-cold and devoid of emotion: [Then Song Yan, Meng Jingxue, everyone in this world, and everything in it will vanish completely.]
Xie Shi’s expression turned unsightly in an instant.
After a moment, he asked: [Then what is the deal with the Glass Heart?]
He received no answer, only hearing a burst of crackling static electricity ring out in his mind.
A sharp pain lanced through Xie Shi’s head, and he hastily reined himself in.
This was the Main God’s warning against his overstepping his bounds.
The system’s cold mechanical voice sounded: [Please complete the mission as soon as possible and locate the whereabouts of the Glass Heart.]
Well then, I need to stay alive to find it!
Xie Shi muttered curses under his breath.
Flying at full speed, Xie Shi had long since fled dozens of miles away, but he knew the giant stone monsters were still pursuing him relentlessly, hot on his heels.
Flying like this was no solution; he had to think of a way to lure these giant stone monsters away.
Xie Shi looked down and spotted a stone alcove beneath them.
It was roughly a large boulder hollowed out into a hollow core.
It could barely fit two people inside.
A thought stirred in Xie Shi’s mind, and he controlled the Buchan Sword to fly downward.
Upon landing, he discovered that this yellowish-brown stone alcove was even lower and more cramped than he had imagined.
He and Song Yan could only crouch and squeeze inside together, flesh pressing against flesh.
Still, there were no better options available.
Xie Shi settled Song Yan inside and told him, “You hide here for now.”
These words carried a distinct implication of walking into danger alone, and Song Yan immediately grabbed Xie Shi’s sleeve. His eye rims reddened as he asked with grievance, “Are you abandoning me, A-Shi?”
Although the system’s explanation was seamless, Xie Shi always faintly felt that something was amiss.
However, the news of this world derailing should be true; the Matchmaker Bureau relied on small worlds to operate, so there was no need to fabricate this.
This world might be destroyed, and Song Yan would completely vanish.
This realization made Xie Shi’s heart feel heavy, aching terribly.
Action preceding thought, he sighed, patted Song Yan’s head in a soothing gesture, and said softly, “I won’t abandon you.”
“Then what are you going to do?” Song Yan pressed on step by step.
“I’m going to find a way to lure the giant stone monsters away.”
The strength in Song Yan’s grip tightened, nearly dragging Xie Shi back down.
“You’re going to ditch me and draw them away yourself?”
Before Xie Shi could speak, a flash of bloody crimson quickly crossed the depths of his pupils, and his tone unconsciously deepened, carrying a faint, latent danger: “If that’s the case, I won’t allow it.”
What was originally meant to be a spoiled, coquettish remark was forced out with a flavor of obsession.
Yet Xie Shi’s heart and mind were entirely consumed by the thought that Song Yan might vanish; his heart felt sour and soft with distress, overflowing with tenderness.
He wished he could transform into an overprotective mother and hug Song Yan tight, completely failing to notice the abnormality in him right now.
Helpless, Xie Shi lightly patted Song Yan’s forehead: “What are you thinking? It hasn’t reached that point yet, and I’m not stupid.”
That action carried a natural intimacy, and only then did Song Yan’s expression look slightly better, though his hand still tightly clutched Xie Shi’s robe as he asked him, “What is A-Shi trying to do?”
Xie Shi turned his head back, gazing into the distance.
The earth began to tremble once more, and dust billowed in the distance.
The giant stone monsters had caught up; there was no time left to hesitate.
He looked at Song Yan and asked with a trace of awkward embarrassment, “Can you give me a strand of your hair?”
From his sleeve’s internal space, Xie Shi retrieved a piece of green spiritual paper and folded it into a paper spirit crane.
A long, pitch-black hair was tied around the crane’s neck, fluttering in the wind.
Xie Shi infused the paper spirit crane with spiritual energy, using Song Yan’s hair as a guide so that it could temporarily substitute for Song Yan as a breathing puppet, drawing away the giant stone monsters’ attention.
A small array had also been set up by Xie Shi outside the stone alcove, capable of masking the aura of the two people inside.
Having finished all this, Xie Shi was completely exhausted, drained of even a shred of spiritual energy.
This move carried some risks, but there were no other methods left at the moment.
Thud!
Thud!
Thud!
The sound of tremors arrived, rapid and dense, as several massive giant stone monsters closed in on the stone alcove.
Their violent running kicked up billowing dust and sand, looking from afar like a massive sandstorm carrying several boulders along with it.
Xie Shi held the paper spirit crane in his palm, then blew on it gently.
The paper spirit crane instantly came to life, fluttering its wings and flying to the top of the pack of giant stone monsters before long.
The running giant stone monsters predictably took the bait, raising their heads one after another, lifting their arms, and roaring as they attempted to grab this paper spirit crane.
The paper spirit crane flapped its wings lightly, nimbly darting through the gaps between their fingers.
And so the giant stone monsters all turned around, charging in the direction the paper spirit crane had fled.
Except for one.
Xie Shi’s entire heart leaped into his throat.
In the cramped, low space, he could only watch as a giant stone monster raised its two massive feet, walking step by step toward their location.
The tremors of the earth grew increasingly distinct, and the giant stone monster drew closer.
Close enough that Xie Shi could even see the cracks of stone on the back of its foot.
It paused right in front of the stone alcove, seeming somewhat puzzled.
Knowing full well that an array was insulating their aura, Xie Shi was still nervous beyond self-control, involuntarily holding his breath.
The giant stone monster lingered for far too long, far too long.
Xie Shi could even mentally picture it lowering its massive head, confusedly sensing the appearance of the stone alcove.
He swallowed hard, unable to help wondering: could it be that his array wasn’t set up properly?
Could it be that this giant stone monster had already discovered them?
If it had discovered them, why hadn’t it grabbed them yet?
Surely it hadn’t noticed them.
Just as Xie Shi was thinking this, the light inside the stone alcove was suddenly blocked out, plunging his field of vision into darkness.
Right at the mouth of the stone alcove, a giant protruding eye appeared, peering inward.