Order cannot tolerate Chaos, and therefore, it cannot tolerate its own demise.

Qin Zhilu’s bite‍⁠​​​⁠⁠‌‌‌‍‍‍‍‍‍⁠​​⁠‍⁠⁠​ was like that of a surging yet tender beast. An Yu’s waist felt as if it were about to be snapped; his heartbeat and breathing fluctuated violently. He was utterly unable to parry the assault, finally whispering a plea for mercy in a gap between kisses: “It hurts, Commander.”

Time had reset to before midnight. He was no longer covered in wounds from forcibly breaking out of the safe house, but the abrasions from the brawl at the mining plant remained on both sides of his waist.

Qin Zhilu’s grip loosened slightly, but he did not let go. He kept him pinned firmly against the wall, his dark eyes imperiously locking onto An Yu’s gaze, refusing to allow even a hint of evasion. In a low, urgent tone, he demanded: “Why?”

An Yu pursed his lips, which were swollen and numb from the kissing, and asked back in a low voice, “Why what?”

“Why did you shoot yourself?”

An Yu couldn’t be sure if the man in front of him choked up for a split second. He could only answer softly: “I didn’t want you to die.”

The pressure on his waist increased again. Qin Zhilu hoisted him up slightly, bringing their breaths even closer. “Why didn’t you want me to die?”

An Yu remained silent.

The Commander is so fierce, he thought. The wounds on his waist were truly starting to burn with pain. But saying so was useless; the Commander would only see it as some calculated act of acting spoiled.

“Hmm?” Qin Zhilu stared at him, those dark eyes both tender and sorrowful.

He suddenly lowered his gaze, resting his forehead against An Yu’s.

In the almost non-existent gap between them, he murmured, “I thought you were just a piece of indifferent little bread. That nothing in this world was ever supposed to concern you.”

The wooden hut remained silent for a long time. When An Yu spoke, his voice was as peaceful as ever. “Do you remember what the former shop owner’s wife said when you first accompanied me into the bakery in the Main City? She said: where there is bread, there is hope.”

An Yu gazed serenely at Qin Zhilu. “Even if it’s just a small piece of bread, it can still carry some hope. It can’t carry too much, just enough for one person. I simply felt that… you are always standing on the opposite end of everyone else. Relied upon, used, suspected, and perhaps eventually abandoned. So, there ought to be someone who stands unshakably on your side forever.”

Before his voice had even faded, he clearly saw Qin Zhilu’s eyes redden. The light in those dark eyes wavered. After a long moment, Qin Zhilu brushed his nose against An Yu’s; his lips moved down from the forehead to the corner of the mouth, then he turned An Yu’s head to kiss his ear.

“There is no ‘forever’ in this world,” Qin Zhilu whispered into his ear. “Perhaps Ling Qiu never taught you the law of entropy: the passage of time means there is no eternal existence in this world.”

An Yu wanted to argue, but he lacked the strength. The hairs on his body were standing up one by one, a sensation that made him shiver. He instinctively wanted to glance at his terminal to see if his survival value was under threat, but he couldn’t move until Qin Zhilu’s lips finally pressed against the back of his ear.

The tiny scar behind his ear touched the scar at the corner of Qin Zhilu’s mouth.

The instant the two old scars touched, An Yu’s consciousness abruptly recoiled. Something vast and ethereal unfolded deep within his mind, immense, lonely, and boundlessly ancient. He seemed to hear a distant murmur, a language that brooked no scrutiny or thought.

A flash passed, and his consciousness snapped back to this tiny, dim safe house.

Qin Zhilu’s slightly hurried breathing was by his ear. A moment later, Qin Zhilu pressed his forehead against his again and asked softly, “Did you feel it?”

An Yu was dazed. “What was that?”

“It… it’s Him, isn’t it?” Qin Zhilu reached out, his fingers stroking the scar behind An Yu’s ear. “Perhaps these are the scars left when He unexpectedly split and entered our bodies. These two scars are exactly why I am who I am, and why you are who you are.”

An Yu grabbed Qin Zhilu’s wrist. “Commander, what exactly is ‘He’? A god?”

Ling Qiu had been a staunch atheist; he firmly believed that humans would eventually master the genetic code of mutations, conquer it, and end this nonsensical disaster.

Qin Zhilu shook his head. “I don’t know. but it is certainly something beyond human cognition. In a higher dimension… much like your ability, a dimension that can see through the compilation of time and space at a glance, shuffling and assembling them at will like a child playing with a puzzle.”

An Yu was speechless. Qin Zhilu had clearly accepted the parable of the parchment drawing. In fact, it coincided perfectly with Codex’s hints: the Mysterious Advent twenty-seven years ago, where a terrifying entity split into several pieces, entering him, Qin Zhilu, and Zhan Xue respectively.

“Four minutes have passed,” Qin Zhilu whispered.

Although time had been reset, those affected would retreat with their memories intact; thus, most of what happened before would not repeat itself. Kaos shouldn’t be this quiet, and Sienna and Jiang Xiao would certainly not sit idly by.

An Yu tapped his terminal and said in surprise, “Jiang Xiao’s GPS is half a kilometer away.”

“Shit.” Qin Zhilu stood up abruptly. “It seems the time reset didn’t work uniformly. The three of them likely regressed further than we did. That’s the only explanation.”

By the time An Yu and Qin Zhilu reached Jiang Xiao’s location, Kaos had already whipped up the Chaotic Reaction vortex once again.

This time, without Sienna’s genes, the reaction was slightly weaker than before, but Sienna was crawling on the ground with great difficulty. That mass of reactants seemed to have an extraordinary pull on her, making her involuntarily want to be absorbed.

An Yu noticed Qin Zhilu watching Sienna with a tight frown and asked in a low voice, “Will you… as well?”

“I won’t.” Qin Zhilu’s tone was heavy. “The summons of the Chaotic Reaction doesn’t work on me. I don’t know why she can’t control herself.”

An Yu thought for a moment. “Perhaps Sienna has already unknowingly accepted mental control from the Super-Aberrant beforehand.”

“I hope so.” As Qin Zhilu spoke, thick branches began to arch up and burst through the ground beneath his feet. He seemed to be expressing some kind of tree gene; roots extended beneath the surface like human veins, instantly binding Sienna in the distance with a death grip.

Within the chaos vortex, those crimson eyes grew even more frenzied. Wherever Qin Zhilu’s roots crawled, the land immediately merged into the reaction.

“You seem very eager to devour me,” Qin Zhilu looked up, staring into Kaos’ eyes. “I imagine it’s because my supervised subject acted too quickly just now, leaving you no chance to perceive exactly who was in control of the reaction center.”

This sentence made the red eyes contract for a split second. But immediately after, more land and buildings were silently swallowed by the vortex. Kaos merged all life and matter within his sight at a speed far exceeding before. He didn’t speak, but the provocative intent was unmistakable.

Read at Mizushi Novels

Visit Mizushi Novels

He realized then that Kaos couldn’t just control the direction.

Support the original translation

Read on Mizushi Novels

“Your fear only further exposes your weaknesses.” An Yu’s voice was cold as he looked down at Jiang Xiao from above.

Don't scrape

Don't copy

“I believe you,” An Yu said.

Read at Mizushi Novels

Visit Mizushi Novels

In the next instant, he appeared at the center of the reaction vortex, but it had constricted again, narrowly avoiding him and pulling in more matter from further away.

Support the original translation

Read on Mizushi Novels

The terminal began to ring. The frantic space folding was causing more and more damage to An Yu himself. With every fold, the vines Jiang Xiao had wrapped around him were torn apart. Jiang Xiao ignored his own shredded vines, staring into the sky without blinking. Every time that figure reappeared, endless vines would doggedly follow.

Don't scrape

Don't copy

But then, streaks of crimson vines shot toward the center of the vortex from behind her. Upon touching the reaction, large amounts of vines were quickly merged and churned in. She snapped her head back, only to see Jiang Xiao standing on the ground with veins bulging at his temples. Crimson snake scales were spreading across his cheeks, a sign of uncontrolled aberrant expression. The roots of the Arctic Willow climbed up his ankles to his thighs. This man had almost completely turned himself into a plant: his arms were endless poppy vines, diving into the vortex like moths to a flame to find the person he needed to protect, while his legs exhausted the Arctic Willow’s genes to stand firmly, refusing to yield to the chaos.

Read at Mizushi Novels

Visit Mizushi Novels

Those dark eyes seemed calm and waveless, yet they hid too many unreadable emotions.

Support the original translation

Read on Mizushi Novels

Qin Zhilu gave an “Mhm.” “It’s ugly in there.”

Don't scrape

Don't copy

Those red eyes, which had been losing focus in the frost, suddenly sharpened. Thousands upon thousands of poppy vines had been merged and snapped by the reaction, but two tenacious strands had finally reached deep inside and grabbed An Yu.

Read at Mizushi Novels

Visit Mizushi Novels

Until a world-shaking explosion occurred, like a nuclear bomb detonating before their eyes. Intense light almost blinded them, but the expected violent shockwaves and flowing fire did not come. The Chaotic Reaction didn’t lead to heat death; like every greedy glutton in District 53, it simply disintegrated and vanished into nothingness.

Support the original translation

Read on Mizushi Novels

An Yu had his eyes closed, sleeping peacefully. With the eyelids hiding his golden eyes, the bewilderment, calculation, cowardice, and obstinacy were gone. His survival value was less than 1%, but he had lived.

Don't scrape

Don't copy

The infant thrown in the garbage dump twenty-seven years ago; the timid orphan in the slums eleven years ago; and the coward who huddled onto the shuttle bus last winter solstice.

Read at Mizushi Novels

Visit Mizushi Novels

But it was destined to survive forever.

Support the original translation

Read on Mizushi Novels

“So, the turning point I’ve been waiting ten years for has finally appeared.”

He murmured in a low voice: “Whether I am willing or not, it is you.”

An Yu realized he had been asleep for a long time, a deep slumber as long as those he had experienced during his childhood in District 53. He was aware of his sleeping state, even faintly sensing the world’s snowstorm intensifying.

But this time was different; just as he felt himself about to wake, he suddenly dreamed of the Poet.

The first time he met the Poet was at a night prayer meeting in District 53. That gentle, elegant man stood at the church’s lectern, reading aloud: “The distress in my heart has quieted, just as the twilight descends upon the silent mountain forests.”

Later, the Poet took him up to a high platform, pointing at things in the sky that An Yu could not see, telling him of gears and fractured red light. In their subsequent encounters, the Poet sold him prophetic poems like a charlatan. He had also stared blankly into An Yu’s golden eyes, murmuring: “Your eyes are truly beautiful; they make the chaos of this world seem trivial.”

That was until that elegant, soft figure took a desperate leap from a high-rise building, only to later smile hysterically and eerily in the hospital.

He had cursed Qin Zhilu vehemently, and then cursed the world. He mournfully spoke the truth of everyone’s end, until he was imprisoned, monitored, and eventually disappeared.

Before the dream disappeared, An Yu returned to that safe house. The frost poured brutally through the small window slats. He squinted and looked up to see that arrogant crow standing on the window frame, looking down at him with a gaze of pity and mockery.

He could never fathom the Poets mind; he was a very contradictory person, An Yu thought.

Perhaps the Poet’s contradictions and pain stemmed from the incompleteness of his Cognition. But even Codex’s Cognition might not be complete. According to the parables, the split “Cognition-entity” of that being was Zhan Xue alone; unfortunately, Zhan Xue was dead. Codex had obtained her notes, and the Poet had perhaps obtained her eye from somewhere, but the Cognition-entity was ultimately fractured. No one in the world could know how the final end would truly play out, or if there was a path to survival.

Perhaps no one could tell him where he and the Commander would eventually end up together.

When An Yu opened his eyes, regret still lingered in his heart, but he was quickly distracted by his surroundings.

The Spire, Qin Zhilu’s room.

He was lying in the Commander’s bed. Outside the window, the heavy snow fell as if it intended to bury the world. In all of An Yu’s memory, he had never seen such a massive snowfall, especially in the inner circles of the Main City.

Qin Zhilu stood by the window with his hands behind his back, looking as if he had been standing there for a long time.

“Comm—”

Before An Yu could finish, his gaze froze on the wall.

The calendar showed it was the morning of December 21, 2149.

The Winter Solstice.

He had actually slept for two months.

Qin Zhilu’s frame stiffened for a second before he immediately turned around. A flash of undisguised pleasant surprise crossed his dark eyes; then, with a long sigh, he walked over and rested his hand on An Yu’s head.

“You’re finally awake. Just like a little animal, hibernating the moment you said you would.”

An Yu remained dazed for a good while before moving his gaze from the Commander’s face to the window. “So much snow…”

“It started snowing after you collapsed in District 99. It grew heavier and heavier, gradually spreading across the entire world. The first place to see snow was District 99, along with several regions where the aberrant tides were most rampant at the time.” Qin Zhilu nodded, then suddenly glanced back out the window. “It only occurred to me recently that this peculiar snow seems to fall whenever you are in a deep sleep, and that is often exactly when major aberrant tides and anomalies subside.”

An Yu’s gaze shifted slightly. “What are you trying to say?”

“I don’t know. I’m not the Poet, nor am I Codex; I cannot see through things at a glance.” Qin Zhilu paused. “But I still hold to the thought I’ve had all these years: snowstorm aren’t necessarily bad things.”

An Yu sighed. After a long while, he moved his head slightly under the Commander’s palm to soothe his stiff neck, then said, “You said the snow often comes when the tides subside… so now that two months have passed, has the world become a bit better?”

Qin Zhilu’s gaze hesitated.

An Yu asked immediately, “What’s wrong?”

“Perhaps it has improved a bit.” Qin Zhilu paused. “A few months ago, we, Flame, and Xi De went on three ‘Taboo-class’ missions simultaneously.”

“How are they?” An Yu straightened his back.

“The Swamp has quieted. The source of chaos there was a Super-aberrant, a mixture of a Black Goat and a thousand-year-old tree. It devoured everything around it through the swamp and, through the underground, continuously devoured the neighboring Bait Cities. It was essentially another form of Chaotic Reaction.”

An Yu thought for a moment before saying, “Then it seems District 99 wasn’t the ultimate fuse, or at least, there’s more than one fuse. It’s a good thing you didn’t actually stay behind in District 99.”

Qin Zhilu merely nodded. “The chaos at the Pole started in the sky. At first, the clouds solidified the birds mid-air; then, the electric and magnetic fields in that area vanished. Nearby buildings began to stretch and deform upward as if growing into the sky, much like what we saw in District 99. But the chaos in the sky started slowly; just as it was beginning to take root, the heavy snow covered it. The situation seems contained now, though the explosive biological tides derived from that chaos haven’t been fully cleared. Xi De and his team are still there cleaning up. Xi De is quite unlucky; he hates cold mission sites the most, yet he’s been stuck there for two months.”

“That’s good then.” An Yu felt relieved, but he hesitated, observing Qin Zhilu’s expression. “But you don’t seem entirely relaxed…”

“Mhm.”

Qin Zhilu mused for a long time before finally saying: “From the Swamp, Lumen returned alone.”

He looked at An Yu, who was visibly stunned, and stood up with a sigh. “It’s been a month. His mental state is very poor; he refuses to report combat details to the Black Tower or the Spire. He has tried to sneak away and was caught more than once. I suspect he wants to go back to the Swamp alone.”

“No one knows what happened in the Swamp, but—” Qin Zhilu paused. “I think the Spire has permanently lost a respectable and reliable high-level officer.”

Translator’s note:
if order cannot tolerate chaos what will happen to QZL ;w;
btw get ready for the most angst, heart-wrenching arc/side couple next chapter. Like i read this novel 3 years ago and this arc is still stuck in my head