As someone in sequence 001, I also want to give up today.

Li Xian returned home.

Fat Orange was still squatting on the balcony sunbathing, Little Gold was swaying its golden flowers in the breeze, and the living room was so quiet that you could hear the ticking of the wall clock.

He sat down on the sofa without turning on the TV or taking out his phone.

Just sit here quietly.

The sunlight streaming in through the window slanted in, cutting a bright trapezoidal shape across the floor.

Li Xian stared at the spot of light, but his thoughts sank deeper.

He's a lazy person.

He never denied it.

If you can lie down, don't sit; if you can sit, don't stand.

A problem that could be solved in three days will definitely be dragged out to the fifth day.

When you can say "it's okay," never say "it's very good."

He never provokes trouble; he avoids it whenever possible and yields whenever possible.

He even built an impregnable psychological fortress for himself because of this:

I am an ordinary person.

I just want to live a quiet life.

I have a daughter to raise, a cat to feed, and meals to cook.

Other matters are none of my concern.

He was very comfortable in the fortress and stayed there for a very long time.

It went on for so long that even he almost believed it himself.

But last night, that number, like a fine needle, gently yet with unparalleled clarity, pierced through his fortress.

One hundred and thirteen.

It wasn't a bell. It wasn't Li Yu. It wasn't anyone he knew.

There were 113 people he had never met, whose names he did not know, and who he might never have any contact with.

They are dead.

Because of a group of rats that shouldn't be here.

Because of an organization that treats this city as a "sacrifice collection site".

Because of that invisible hand reaching out to Jiangcheng.

Li Xian looked down at his hands.

These hands can fold space, manipulate cause and effect, and analyze the essence of almost all abilities in the world.

These hands, during the Paradise Incident, could easily crush that A-grade Tu Yan's sacred artifact.

But he did not kill Tu Yan.

He didn't even make a serious move.

He only helped within "reasonable limits" before retreating back into his "B-level psychic" shell.

Because it's troublesome.

Because I don't want to be exposed.

Because I don't want to shatter the illusion of "ordinary life" that I've painstakingly built up.

But now, 113 people are dead.

They will not be resurrected.

And the God Group still exists.

They were still watching Jiangcheng, watching the souls here, watching those "best sacrifices".

Will there be two hundred next time?

Will there be five hundred next time?

Most importantly, could his neighbors, friends, or even relatives be among those people...?

Li Xian leaned back on the sofa and closed his eyes.

Fat Orange jumped down from the balcony at some point and squatted at his feet, quietly watching him with its heterochromatic eyes.

It didn't jump onto his chest and press down on him like it did last night.

It simply crouched there, its tail gently circling its paws, like a silent companion.

a long time.

Li Xian opened his eyes.

His eyes looked different than usual.

It wasn't anger, it wasn't murderous intent, and there wasn't even any particular emotional fluctuation.

It was just... calm.

A deep, pure tranquility.

He took out his phone, opened his contacts, found Li Yu's number, and sent a message:

"I'm taking the afternoon off; I have some personal business to attend to."

Three seconds later, Li Yu replied:

"??? Are you okay? Why did you send this to me?"

Li Xian did not reply.

He put his phone aside, closed his eyes, and let his consciousness sink into the depths of his mind.

The power of all things floated there quietly, like an unchanging nebula, slowly rotating with a rhythm beyond human comprehension.

It sensed Li Xian's will and "brightened" slightly.

There were no questions asked, no curiosity expressed.

Just wait quietly.

Li Xian's consciousness touched one of his rarely used abilities—causal substitution.

This ability comes from Lin Mo.

After he replicated it, he hardly ever used it formally, except for a trick he used to exchange it for macarons and water at a gathering in the capital.

It's not because it's not easy to use.

Quite the opposite.

It's because it's so easy to use.

The essence of causal substitution is to interfere with the connection between "cause" and "effect".

An apple fell from a tree and hit Newton on the head.

This is cause and effect.

Causal substitution can temporarily sever, distort, or replace the connection between "the apple falling" and "Newton being hit" with something else.

For example, the moment the apple fell, Newton happened to be bending down to tie his shoelaces.

For example, it could have been a passing pigeon that hit Newton instead of an apple.

The upper limit of this ability is unfathomable.

But Li Xian rarely used it.

Because every time the power of cause and effect is used, it touches upon the underlying logic of this world.

That is not a realm that humans should easily venture into.

But now, Li Xian has decided to use it.

His consciousness sank into the residual energy memories of the Rat King incident.

With a precision far exceeding that of any instrument, the power of all phenomena re-examined, amplified, and traced back the causal lines of the energy fragment within the Rat King's body.

That fragment was left behind by the Gods.

It must bear the marks of their touch—marks of energy, time, space, and most importantly…

Traces of cause and effect.

Li Xian's consciousness followed those almost non-existent causal lines, going against the current.

Like a fish swimming against the current.

He "saw" it.

The Rat King's energy fragments were not originally within its body.

It was a complete piece of supernatural metal, radiating an eerie, cold light, held in the palm of a hand wearing a black glove.

That hand belonged to a short figure shrouded in a cloak.

He stood in a dark space, surrounded by piles of similar metal fragments—so many that they formed a small mountain.

He whispered something.

Then he handed the fragment to his other hand.

That hand was taller and paler.

Li Xian's senses continued to rewind.

The causal line extends from that pale hand into the distant past—no, not the past, but in another direction.

A crack in space.

He "saw" the crack.

It hangs in mid-air, its edges irregular, like torn wounds, exuding an aura that doesn't belong to this world and is instinctively repulsive.

Countless gold-devouring rats poured out from that crack.

Like a gray waterfall, like a flood bursting its banks.

They were not bred by the rat king.

They are ready-made legions from another world.

The crack only remained open for a few seconds.

Within seconds, at least a million gold-devouring rats crossed the spatial rift and flooded into Jiangcheng's underground pipe network.

Then the crack closed, as if it had never existed.

Li Xian's consciousness withdrew from the causal tracing.

He opened his eyes, his forehead covered in a fine layer of sweat.

The cost of causal substitution was greater than he had anticipated—not in terms of mental energy, but in something more abstract.

Every time he forcibly interferes with cause and effect, a tiny "wear and tear" is created between him and the world.

But he didn't care anymore.

Because he "saw" it.

The opening of that spatial rift requires coordinates.

And that coordinate is in Jiangcheng.

The Divine Group has a fixed base in Jiangcheng.

It is not a temporary stop or a transit point, but a truly permanent base for continuously monitoring the energy status and causal nodes of this city.

That stronghold was extremely well hidden.

But cause and effect do not lie.

Li Xian stood up.

Fat Orange raised his head, his heterochromatic eyes following his movements.

"Wait at home," Li Xian said. "I'm going out for a bit."

The chubby orange cat meowed.

There was no question, no dissuasion in that voice.

There is only a calm, taken-for-granted acceptance.

Li Xian walked out the door.

He did not use spatial folding.

He followed step by step along the causal line that only he could "see".

Walk through the streets, through the crowds, through this city that has just experienced disaster and is slowly recovering.

The sun is shining brightly.

The breakfast shops on the street have reopened, and steam is rising from the steamers.

At the kindergarten gate, parents held their children's hands and reminded them to "listen to the teacher."

At the bus stop, commuters are looking down at their phones, with only a few occasionally glancing up at the time.

This is the most ordinary daily life in Jiangcheng.

Li Xian walked among them, like an ordinary middle-aged man rushing to work.

His expression was calm.

His steps were also very steady.

Twenty minutes later, he stopped in front of an inconspicuous residential building.

This is an old residential area in the east of the city. The buildings are at least thirty years old, with most of the paint on the exterior walls peeling off and the security grilles rusty.

A few elderly people were sitting downstairs, basking in the sun and chatting idly.

Nobody gave him a second glance.

Li Xian looked up.

His gaze passed over the peeling exterior walls, over the rusted security grilles, and over the faded clothes hanging on the balconies.

It landed on the seventh floor, east-facing unit.

The window had no security bars, the curtains were tightly closed, and the blackout fabric completely isolated the room from the outside world.

But Li Xian can "see" it.

There were four people behind the curtains.

Three B-grade and one A-grade.

They were quiet and did not speak, seemingly engaged in some kind of ritualistic preparation.

There was a faint trace of residual energy in the air, the same as that found in the fragments inside the Rat King's body.

This is one of their strongholds.

It's not the headquarters, nor is it the core base.

It was merely a deeply hidden "eye" used to monitor Jiangcheng.

But for Li Xian, that was enough.

He did not go upstairs immediately.

He just stood there, looking up at the window with its curtains tightly closed, for a long time.

Nobody noticed him.

The elderly people basking in the sun continued chatting.

The breakfast shop owner continued frying dough sticks.

The bus arrived at the station and then departed.

A day in Jiangcheng flows on as usual.

Only Li Xian knew that something was different starting today.

He withdrew his gaze, turned around, and walked back the way he came.

His steps remained steady.

But that laziness had completely vanished at that moment.

Instead, there was a very faint, almost imperceptible chill.

He walked very slowly.

Enough for the people of the God Group to breathe a few more breaths of this world's air.