Chapter Thirty-Nine: The Confidentiality Agreement

At dawn, as the first rays of light rose, the entire Gourmet Street finally came alive once more.

When people stepped out of their shops, all they saw across the street was utter chaos and debris—nothing else remained. The insect corpses from the previous night, the scattered flesh and blood of the slain slugs—all of it had vanished without a trace, as if they had never existed at all. Now, the only evidence of their presence was the shattered glass curtain walls and the overturned trash bins.

Gourmet Street had been cut off from the internet for over twelve hours. Whether phones, computers, or any electronic devices, all signals had been completely severed. At both ends of the street, soldiers armed with military gear still stood guard. Anyone attempting to leave had to pass through a hastily constructed inspection station.

Once cleared, officials required everyone to sign a confidentiality agreement. The most threatening clause warned that spreading any information online would result in up to six months’ imprisonment. Although a few people tried to protest, the sight of a noisy protester being struck down by a soldier’s rifle butt and dragged away silenced the crowd instantly.

The atmosphere on Gourmet Street was now oppressively grim. Fortunately, these special troops did not interrogate each person individually; they simply repeated the terms of the agreement, formatted everyone’s devices, and quickly allowed them to leave.

Holding the confidentiality agreement and watching the crowd being released, Ji Yu’s mind was filled with even more questions.

“They’re letting everyone go just like that?”

Ji Yu began to doubt his judgment from the night before. If what had happened on Gourmet Street was a widespread phenomenon, then the authorities’ cover-up would have been pointless. But seeing how they handled the situation, Ji Yu could only conclude that the events of last night were an isolated incident, and similar things had already occurred elsewhere.

The authorities had been prepared; that was why the process was so swift and methodical—having everyone sign and then letting them go.

A dozen minutes later, once Ji Yu had walked several hundred meters beyond the cordon around Gourmet Street, his freshly formatted phone finally regained a signal.

“A toxic gas leak?”

Ma Hongyu stared at the news on his phone, his face darkening with discontent.

“They’re really making it sound convincing,” he scoffed. “But, Ji, don’t you think it’s risky for them to let all of us go so easily? What if we band together and make trouble?”

“Make trouble?” Ji Yu could hardly hold back a laugh at Ma Hongyu’s naïveté. “And what would you do—protest that the authorities are hiding the truth and ignoring the public’s right to know and their safety?”

“Exactly! Isn’t that our right?”

“There’s nothing wrong with it,” Ji Yu replied, picking up his pace. “I just think you’re not far from being hauled in yourself. I’d best keep my distance from you.”

He joked as he walked ahead, with Ma Hongyu momentarily stunned before hurrying to catch up.

Zhou Xin and Wang Qiaoqian had already left on their own, choosing not to have Ma Hongyu drive them. They feared rumors spreading at their school. So, after they left, Ji Yu took Ma Hongyu’s car out of Gourmet Street.

Back at his apartment, Ji Yu’s thoughts were a whirlwind. But first, he needed to gather more information about the situation. With the true nature of last night’s events still unclear, he couldn’t be certain if the Ziyue incident had grown more severe.

The Layn Federation’s control over news and speech was far too strict; the only place Ji Yu could still seek information was Westland. Besides, the Ziyue phenomenon typically lingered for a long time. Although it had ended with daylight on the Layn side, in the Banna Federation—where the time zone lagged by eleven hours—night had just begun.

Ji Yu was eager to enter the game “Descent: Avatar of the Oak” to keep an eye on whether anything major would happen in the rainforest.

Lying on his bed, he closed his eyes. As his consciousness drifted, Ji Yu awakened to find himself once again inhabiting the Oak.

In the Banna rainforest, night had only just begun. Ji Yu glanced up and immediately saw the bright purple moon overhead.

The rainforest was silent; those living in the tribes beneath the trees had already retreated into the shadow of the great oak’s crown. Even the mutant birds favored by the Oak had hidden themselves deep within the dense forest.

Water droplets glistened visibly atop the canopy—a sign that a heavy rain had only just ceased. But with the rain gone and the mist clearing, the purple moon’s light now poured freely down.

High above, Ji Yu could sense the purple moon’s corruption pressing upon the Oak’s blossoms. Yet, compared to the intensity Adam had felt half a month earlier, the difference was slight—perhaps only a faint increase.

Still, there was a distinction this time: the purple moon had appeared just as night fell. If it lasted until dawn, it would shine for over ten hours. If Adam alone had to withstand this, he certainly could not endure such a prolonged assault. Even in his meditative state, the constant drain would soon exhaust him; his weakened form of self-meditation could not sustain it. Eventually, he’d have to burn his own life force to resist the purple moon’s pollution—a fate Ji Yu was determined to avoid, as nothing good could come from stunting the Oak’s growth.

“It seems the pollution of the purple moon isn’t as severe as I feared. The Gourmet Street incident truly was an isolated anomaly—no wonder the authorities handled it as they did. There must be other places in this world where similar things have already happened.”

With this thought, Ji Yu felt somewhat reassured. Relieved, he focused all his attention on the coming contest between the Oak and the purple moon’s corruption.

He gently stirred the Oak’s power, then slipped into a half-meditative state. Ji Yu didn’t expect the night’s meditation to foster much growth, but at the very least, the Oak’s vitality must not wane—much less allow the purple moon’s blight to take root.

After all, nothing good could come from being tainted by the purple moon. Just remembering the monstrous slugs and terrifying mutant birds that had appeared under its light was enough—if such horrific mutations could arise from its radiation, no one would willingly endure such a fate, even if their minds remained intact.

By force of habit, Ji Yu split his consciousness in two—one half entering meditation, the other remaining vigilant, watching for any changes in the world outside and keeping a close eye on the purple moon.